Second Sunday in Lent

Greg Schaefer—April 4, 2007

Readings:
OT
Psalm
Epistle
Gospel

She was this tall (about 3 feet). So was I, for that matter. We were in Kindergarten. Her name was Kelly, and she was cute, smart, nice, she smelled good, which is pretty remarkable when one is 5. We were friends and were in the same class, our moms were friends… and I had a big crush on her.

Well, 25 years later, since I’m not married to someone named Kelly, you know how that story turned out. I agonized, daydreamed, plotted day and night, and eventually took a bold step. I gave her a note to give to her mom, in which I told her mom that I’d like to marry Kelly. Well, let’s just say Kelly was unwilling, even to take the note! And I was devastated.

However much a 5-year-old can know how Jesus feels weeping over unwilling Jerusalem, I did. While I didn’t have the poetry of Luke’s Jesus, I was pretty crushed because it had all made so much sense for Kelly and me: it was practically our destiny to be together! But alas. She saw it another way.

I think of that story when I read this text: Jesus expressing longing for Jerusalem. In Luke, Jesus has been giving his life to God’s people. His ministry has been devoted to turning their hearts. Everything he is, he has put into his ministry. And Jerusalem was not willing.

I wonder, has much changed, really? It doesn’t take much more than a quick look around for us to be able to identify with Jesus’ weeping. Sometimes I wonder, Why doesn’t the church get it? Why doesn’t the government get it? Why are there poor, hungry, homeless, and AIDS? Things could be better! “Come on, people!” No wonder Jesus weeps. Yet, I’m reminded that, if we are identifying with Jesus in these stories, we are not looking deep enough.

There is an old Peanuts comic strip where Lucy is standing under a tree looking up at Linus and she says, “What are you doing up there?” Linus says, “Snoopy & I climbed up here to look for something.” Lucy says, “What? Dogs can’t climb trees!” In the next panel, Snoopy falls out of the tree and lands on his head… and Lucy lets him have it: “You stupid Beagle! What are you doing? Are you nuts? Aw, what do I care? Go ahead. Climb trees. Fall out… I don’t care!” In the final panel, Snoopy simply says, “Darn. I was hoping for a hug.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m too often like Lucy: quick to judge, lecture, or condemn, when the truth is that I’m more often on other side: in the shoes of Snoopy, and of unwilling Jerusalem. Though I know the way of Cross, it’s still not totally natural, and I find myself unwilling. It’s so much easier to follow our own ways. When I think of times, maybe you too, of being unwilling to be gathered under Jesus’ wing… I’m reminded of a professor at LTSS preaching on simul Justus et Peccator [Simultaneously Saint and Sinner]. He said, “Often my peccatorhood outweighs my Justushood.” Well, one of the congregants was particularly offended saying, “How can you say you are more sinner than saint?” to which the professor replied, “Spend a day with me!”

And it’s true. While not blatant, our own sin is so common that we may not even notice it sometimes. For whatever reason, it’s easy to be unwilling to be gathered to Jesus, easy to kill prophets of our own day. Doing things my way, even (like unwilling Jerusalem) to the point of destructive consequences, is the natural way for us as humans to live. And our participation in societal sin, carelessness for earth and our neighbor, even more easily go unnoticed. And, new on my radar, is the sin of trying to save ourselves. In the movie The Mission, there is a scene where a man is carrying a huge bag up cliff. He keeps dropping it and going back down to drag it up again. Finally, near the top, someone cuts the rope that ties it to him and it falls for good.

Sometimes I wonder if the reason it’s hard to acknowledge our own sin is that it’s hard to let go of it. And I wonder if it’s hard to let go of because that requires a huge leap of faith, the alternative to which is rejection.

I stopped talking to Kelly after her rejection of me. I just pretended I didn’t like her anymore. Fortunately, Jesus was not as easily crushed as 5 year old I was. J doesn’t play “Because you don't like me, I won't like you.”

This stole I’m wearing is a Batak wedding wrap from Sumatra. The couple is wrapped in it to symbolize their bond to each other. What a fitting symbol for this reconciling season of Lent, when we are reminded of just how bound we are to our Creator.

Sometimes we pray “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest.” But we do so knowing that bidden or unbidden, God is present. The Good News for us today in this text is the reminder that Jesus longs to gather the very Jerusalem that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it. God’s love & forgiveness for us are unfailing. Everything we do, we do basking in God’s forgiveness. (Sin boldly. And believe even more boldly.)

This space, this gathered community, this Word, this table, where we say “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord”… these are reserved exclusively for sinners. If you’re not sinner, I’m not sure what doing here. But, if you are one, if you spend more time than not seeking your own way, trying to save self, failing to walk in the Jesus way, you’ve come to right place for a word of grace. It is exactly US that Jesus longs to gather. And we need not fear rejection. There is room for all of us. No games. No question.

And that means for us Lutherans that it’s crowded under there, what with God gathering all her chicks under her wing. During Lent, our annual refocus, we consider our vocation, asking, “How then, in the light of grace, shall we live in God’s world with each other. It involves a daily return to the open arms of Christ. In a moment we’ll sing Christ Be Our Light. Though it is addressed to Jesus, hear in it not that we ask Jesus to be our light and he says, “Oh, OK” and becomes our light. Rather, we pray that we would acknowledge God’s grace, bask in our forgiveness, and turn back toward our home in the light.

The Christian Brothers have a nice way of remembering this. “Live Jesus in our Hearts, Forever” they say at the end of every class, mass, prayer, and event. In saying it, we are not asking Jesus to enter our hearts. Rather, we claim the truth of God’s abiding presence and pray that, where ever our vocation takes us in service to God, neighbor, and earth, we would follow the light of Christ back to the open wing of God. Human sin dwells deep within each and every one of us. But, when grace met sin in Jerusalem long ago, unlike Kelly and me, things worked out and a relationship was born! And today, when our sinfulness meets the gracious Lord, grace wins.

There is a Bat mitzvah prayer that says: In a world torn by pain, in a world far from wholeness & peace, in a world waiting still to be redeemed, give us, Lord, the courage to say: “There is one God in heaven & earth.”

We see sin around us daily and the challenge is to not pretend that we are not part of it, but to acknowledge that we are, to bask in God’s forgiveness, and to re-turn day after day toward the one God in heaven and earth.

Live J in our hearts. Forever.

Amen!