Second Lent
Luke 13; 31-35
Lament. Lament. It's an old fashioned word. Hardly used anymore. When I ask our confirmands what it is and they don't know I instruct them to remember it, because it's a great ACT/SAT word. Cry is to lament as Laugh is to ____. You fill in the blank.
Lament. By dictionary definition, it means " To feel or express deep sorrow for, mourn or grieve, to regret deeply."
In our gospel lesson today Jesus laments. "Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem...How often would I have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings and you were not willing!" I'm probably showing my age here but I really like the old translation better. "How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!
It's a strange text. There's a lot in it that's hard to understand starting with the fact that it is the Pharisees who come to warn Jesus about Herod. We don't often think these theological sparing partners were interested in Jesus protection. And it is an odd text right down to the strange statement that it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem when indeed many prophets were killed outside of Jerusalem. This text is odd and yet it is strangely haunting.
Perhaps it is the image of the scampering squeaking chicks. They're all over the barnyard till the sun is darkened by the shadow of a predator. The hen stretches out her wings and they scurry back to find warmth security and safety under the protection of their mother
Or perhaps this text is so haunting for the certainty contained in those words "you would not!"
Jesus laments. What I offered, what I knew to be in your best interest and for your own good you rejected-outright. A rejection not from ignorance, not from weakness but from sheer unadulterated willfulness. "You would not!"
These words communicate more than sorrow and grief. These words are an expression of Jesus sense of failure. For all the trying, for all the teaching, for all the healing there is sorrow that Jerusalem would not see him as the way and the truth and the life. "You would not!"
As I worked on this sermon I read dozens of sermons on this text. I got really annoyed because it seemed that a lot of the preachers were way out in left field. They were writing all kinds of things that had nothing to do with the text. One preacher went on and on about the plight of the city. One had a huge diatribe about how artistic expression had been sold out by the religious community. One pastor took this opportunity to rail at her own congregation for being stuck in old patterns instead of striking out in new mission opportunities. The more I read the more confused I got until it suddenly occurred to me.
Jesus lament touches something that is very deep within us--rarely exposed, rarely admitted to--Jesus lament touches our own place of lament. We understand, indeed we feel Jesus commitment, helplessness, hurt, rejection because in some way at some level we have known that commitment, helplessness, rejection and hurt.
Couched in a sermon comparing the city Jerusalem to the city Chicago the preacher revealed the pain of years of ministry organizing community groups, providing after school programs, getting young people into basketball programs only to see the crime rate continue to skyrocket and the battle with drugs continue.
Lament: For years she had done everything in her power to get him to stop smoking. She had cajoled, berated, bribed, educated. She left out brochures on the kitchen table that contained graphic pictures of healthy lungs and unhealthy. She brought home patches and gum. She collected cards for hypnotists and support groups. She loved him. Out of that love she would insist he stay healthy but "he would not". It was almost as if his utter disregard for his own health was a denial of the love she had for him.
Lament: She loved her parent. She wanted the best for her mother. But her mother just wouldn't listen to reason. She wouldn't consider that new high-rise retirement home where she could have that sunny, cheerful apartment. There would be other people there. There was a bus that could take her shopping and on outings. And if something happened, if there was an emergency help would be right at hand. If only she could just convince her mother. But she would not. Somewhere deep inside her that felt like failure. Mother sitting in that big, empty house all alone
Laments. An employee has worked so hard and has seen the company prosper and thrive. It's a good company, it does important things and it treats people with respect. But then there's a shake up in management, profits aren't what they might be. The company takes a different turn and it seems so clear that what has made it essentially good is being cast away. Maybe the time is right to leave, but so much valuable work has been done, and the years have built up loyalty.
Yes, There's something deep inside us that knows what Jesus is saying, "How often would I have gathered you together and you would not!" So what does Jesus do with these stubborn and obdurate people?
First he responds with courage. Herod is a powerful adversary. Known for his cruelty, he has successfully eliminated all those who would oppose him. Many had decided that it was just better to stay out of his line of sight or to cozy up to him. Jesus receives the warning about Herod with courage. He is ready to confront "that fox". He is ready to confront the powers that be. We too must have courage to confront the evil around us. It's easier to stay in the shadows. It's easier to ignore or avoid. But Jesus' example us to courage.
And then Jesus continues. Jesus continues his work. Discouragement is a powerful deterrent to activity. When what we do doesn't seem to be getting the effect we want our temptation is to give up. The temptation to quit is immense. Jesus says "I am casting our demons today and tomorrow and on the third day finish my work." "Yet today and tomorrow and the next day I must be on my way." If we love, if we care then giving up is not an option.
Jesus has courage. Jesus commits for today and tomorrow and always and finally Jesus continues to love. We lament and in our lamenting we move to protect ourselves. We draw away. But Jesus does not. In our failures, in our weakness, in our cowardice Jesus continues to invite us to be gathered up to find security and safety and hope.
There is an old story told of a grass fire in the barnyard. It burned through the farm, and the animals and birds simply did not have enough time to run. When the fire had done its worst, the farmer looked at the damage. There was a mother hen; its wings spread wide, its feathers black and burned. The hen was dead.
But when the farmer picked up the dead hen, out scampered her half dozen chicks. Just before the fire, she had gathered them under her in the face of danger. And she gave her life to save them.
Amen.