Meditation on Revelation 21:1-6, 5 Easter C

Revelation 21:1-6

I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

"See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them as their God;

they will be his peoples,

and God himself will be with them;

4he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away."

5And the one who was seated on the throne said, "See, I am making all things new." Also he said, "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true." 6Then he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life."

One of my favorite lines is in verse 3: “Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away." This is an image we also saw in Isaiah 65.17-25, which we heard and read on Easter Day.

Verse 1 echoes Isaiah 65.17, which was the first verse we heard on Easter Sunday. The image “new heaven and new earth” also appears in Isaiah 66.22, and 2 Peter 3.13. The image of a new heaven and new earth reflects the eschatological vision that there will no longer be a separation between earth and heaven. That is why the home of God will be among mortals (v. 3). And being mortal will not matter any more, either, because Death will be no more, either, as well as any source of sadness or discomfort (v. 4). It is a new creation, reordered as it was in Eden before the Fall.

Interestingly, St. Paul also uses this imagery to refer to what changes await those who accept Christ as their savior. In 2 Corinthians 5.17, Paul explains: “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” We heard this reading six weeks ago on the 4^th Sunday in Lent this year (March 10).

We see another usage of the imagery of Christ as bridegroom and the Church—described here as the city of God—as the bride. The implication is that the bridegroom is the protector and head—which works for many of us as Christians although not for many of us in this day and age who are wives, and verses like this are sometimes used to counsel wives’ submission to their husbands even today. Nonetheless, we need Christ’s love and protection, even if we do not pattern our marriages along this same kind of asymmetrical relationship. Perhaps we should focus on the complementarity of our relationship with Jesus as being unlike marriage today, since we are by no means equals with him. A good thing to remember when we try to justify actions we want to do as being “part of God’s will.”

“The home of God is among mortals…” verse 3. God is proclaiming that he is with us and proclaiming common cause with us. This is reminiscent of the Israelites’ time in the wilderness, when God led them by fire and cloud night and day. The Israelites lived in tents, --and so did God. In 2 Samuel 7 (also 1 Chronicles 17), King David is thankful for all that God has blessed him with, and notes the fact that he now has a fine house of cedar while God still lives in a tent. David has the idea of building God a house too. But the prophet Nathan receives a vision from God in which God points out that he has no wish to have a house, or he would have already asked for one. The time is not right, and David is not the person to build the Temple. David acknowledges the blessing and mercy God has shown him and drops the idea. However, David’s son Solomon did build the Temple—he was the right person at the right time (1 Kings 5 and 2 Chronicles 2). 

Now, in the vision in Revelation, the time is also right for God to live among mortals. But this time there will not be separate houses—God’s house will be ours as well. “Mi casa es su casa.” We will abide with God and God abide with us completely. Every tear will be wiped from every eye, for how can there be any sorrow when justice is established, when all live in equity, and death and suffering are no more? We are not passive observers in this holy city—it has been built by our faithfulness and sacrifice during trials and ordeals, as we were reminded last week. May we be inspired by John’s vision here to work for its establishment here and now. Revelations provides us here with an image of renewal and transformation of us and of all creation, of perfection through the true worship of God through love.

The gift of “water of life” is an image that appears four times in Revelation, in our reading today and at 7.17 —

for the Lamb at the centre of the throne will be their shepherd,
   and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’

22.1-2 —

then the angel^* showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree of life^* with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.

and 22.17 —

The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.

This concept was alluded to in Isaiah 55.1, which is subtitled “An invitation to abundant life”:

Ho, everyone who thirsts,
   come to the waters;
and you that have no money,
   come, buy and eat!

and also in the phrase “living water” in John 4.13-15, in the discussion with the Samaritan woman at the well:

Jesus said to her, ‘Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.’  

and in John 7.37-38

On the last day of the festival, the great day, while Jesus was standing there, he cried out, ‘Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink. As the scripture has said, “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” ’

Living water is flowing water in desert climates, which makes it safer to drink. Living water is also freshwater—notice in verse 1 the sea had passed away and frankly is not missed, since it is not fit to drink and is often described as the home of sea monsters (see today’s psalm), separation, the place of storms, and chaos. But metaphorically, living water is connected with faith and belief which we drink in. Humans need both food and water: even in comfortable circumstances, an adult human will live only a week without water. In desert climates, this time is much shorter. This is a much shorter time than we can survive without food, the outer limits of which is generally estimated to be 30-40 days or so if that person is hydrated.  Notice this is also the length of time that the Bible says that Jesus is tempted in the wilderness. In scripture, water is associated with belief in the verses above. Just as we cannot live without water, we cannot live without belief in Jesus as the Son of God and Savior.

This perfection is reiterated and framed by the repetition of God’s declaration of making all things new in verses 5-6.  Creation and re-creation. Alpha and Omega. Beginning and End. The source of all being and ground of all reality. Supplier of all we need for real life.

What would it take to make this vision a reality?

Meditation: Isaiah 65: 17-25

Isaiah 65:17-25

For I am about to create new heavens

         and a new earth;

the former things shall not be remembered

         or come to mind.

18But be glad and rejoice forever

         in what I am creating;

for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,

         and its people as a delight.

19I will rejoice in Jerusalem,

         and delight in my people;

no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it,

         or the cry of distress.

20No more shall there be in it

         an infant that lives but a few days,

         or an old person who does not live out a lifetime;

for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth,

         and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.

21They shall build houses and inhabit them;

         they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.

22They shall not build and another inhabit;

         they shall not plant and another eat;

for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be,

         and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.

23They shall not labor in vain,

         or bear children for calamity;

for they shall be offspring blessed by the LORD--

         and their descendants as well.

24Before they call I will answer,

         while they are yet speaking I will hear.

25The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,

         the lion shall eat straw like the ox;

         but the serpent-- its food shall be dust!

They shall not hurt or destroy

         on all my holy mountain, says the LORD.

On her latest album, Dar Williams wrote a song called “I Am the One Who Will Remember Everything,” which tells the story of a refugee boy who faces the constant possibility of being pressed into service as a child soldier, a “child born for calamity” as Isaiah speaks about:

“Oh what have we here, he must be three or four,

Shaken out of a boot on its way back to war

And he’s not looking for a father or a mother,

Just a seven year old brother,

On this smudged line border camp of refugees,

I am the one who will remember everything.

I am the one who will remember everything.

So where are we now, he must be five or six,

Just running around, hungry kids, sharpened sticks.

And he will grow with pain and fear and jealousy,

Taken in by schools of zealotry,

Who train orphans to make orphans evermore.”

It is this kind of thing that will be swept away in the new Jerusalem that Isaiah predicts.

The promise in Isaiah that God is setting creation aright should sound familiar—we heard it two weeks ago during 5 Lent in Isaiah 43:18-19: “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” The promise of creation, of the kingdom of God, is finally going to be fulfilled. This will be a time of peace, justice, and plenty. Jerusalem will be God’s city; in other words, the new Eden. The memories of war, violence, pain, and death will be wiped completely away. The laborers will enjoy the fruits of their labor, and blessings and mercy will be freely given to the people who inhabit on God’s holy mountain.

Three major shifts will take place: God will take joy in this new work; justice, contentment, and peace will take the place of weeping, vulnerability, and injustice; and relationships and the order of nature will be transformed so that none must suffer or be deprived so that another may prosper. If we all understood that we are members of one community—the kingdom of God—we might not just be satisfied with a human calculus that divides our fellow human beings and children of God into circles of ”them” and “us”—which is unfortunately another way to say  “losers” and “winners.” God is eternal. Love is eternal. How will we act in light of this knowledge?

Resurrection is new life-- not just the old life given back, but a life transformed. A life based on mercy, a life that empties itself out for love. Easter is the day that the universe is changed forever. 

Steps of Faith

   Steps of Faith

Lent 5, Year C-- John 12:1-8

March 17, 2013

Episcopal Church of the Holy Communion

I kind of like feet.

Not in a weird way, not obsessively, but I think in the way of a girl who had size 10 and a half feet 

from the time she was fourteen years old and got razzed about it. Nope, from a practical matter,

there was nothing I could do about how long my feet were, and besides, in the extensive list of things about my body I could be unhappy about, either at age 14 or now, they certainly weren’t the worst thing.

But beyond that, I think feet can tell you a lot about a person. Structurally, they hold up our weight as we balance on a latticework of tiny, delicate bones. They anchor us to this good earth and keep us grounded, and on a warm summer’s morning we can feel the pulse and hum of the earth vibrate  through our feet as we stand in the cool, sweet grass.

And then there’s the fact that my feet make me think of my dad. When he was feeling really content,

he would sit on the floor watching football with me and he would reach out and just hold one of my feet. It was weird, and quirky, and it’s one of the things I miss most about my dad. I mean, any father can hold your hand, but it takes a special dad to hold your foot. It’s not exactly the stuff that Beatles songs are made of— I mean, “I Wanna Hold Your Foot” isn’t that catchy— but it means love to me.

You know, I never get to wash anyone’s feet any more. There have been little, sweet, kicking pairs of feet I have washed and kissed, but they have all grown up now and have run away from me. If I were to even try to touch them now, there would be horror and revulsion from the too-cool owners of those feet.

Once we leave infancy, we don’t really touch our own feet very often, much less other people’s feet,

because while they are humble, feet also can make us self-conscious. Our lives are reflected in our feet,

so they can get callused, they can get bumpy, they can get grimy, and they certainly can get smelly and dirty, whether you wear shoes or not. This is why the incidents of foot washing in the Bible are so memorable to us. You have to really love someone to want to wash their feet, much less caress those feet and pour expensive perfume all over them.

Feet are a conduit of love in today’s gospel. Now, it’s clear that the same action can be interpreted in different ways by different people. In this case, the meaning at the time was obviously different for Mary, for Jesus, and for Judas. And as we look at this action ourselves across the centuries and cultures, it also means different things for us. That’s the thing about scripture: there are so many layers of meaning in each story.

This silent act does three things in particular that strike me: First, it proclaims Mary’s love for Jesus as her Messiah and Lord. Second, it also anoints and proclaims that Mary recognizes that Jesus is set apart,

and she is conferring a blessing and consecration upon him in the midst of her family, much like an ordination of a deacon, priest, or bishop comes from within the community. Third, as Jesus receives this act and is challenged over allowing it, he explains that she is preparing his body for burial by anointing his feet.

It is right that his feet be anointed:

they have important business to complete.

These same feet are going to carry Jesus to the outskirts of Jerusalem and on to his passion. At this moment, Jesus’ feet straddle the line between earth and heaven, between his ministry and his death upon a cross, and Mary is making those feet ready. Before he is betrayed and handed over to the authorities, Jesus himself is going to show his love for his disciples by washing all of their feet, as a sign that great love also demands great humility and a sense of servanthood.

So what caused Mary to do this strange thing? At the center of this story is a family- adult siblings who love each other and depend upon each other. This family wanted to throw a party, and they had probably the best reason to throw a party ever in the history of the world. The sisters had seen their brother die, and they had seen their brother live again, and it was all thanks to Jesus. In the Mediterranean world they lived in, this was the difference between Martha and Mary being on the brink of destitution and remaining secure and protected. Besides the fact that Martha and Mary loved their brother, there is the fact that as unmarried women, they had to have a male protector— either a father, a husband, or a brother— to be able to live an independent life.

This is a special family, and they are described in quite a remarkable way. It is said in chapter 11

that Jesus loved Mary and Martha and Lazarus. We often hear of people loving Jesus, and Jesus is depicted as loving those around him in a general way. But Lazarus, Martha, and Mary are the only people specifically named as being people Jesus loved and considered friends. Further, they lived in Bethany, which was just two miles from Jerusalem, and we all know what is going to happen in Jerusalem, and most of us know the liturgical calendar. Lent is drawing close to Easter. Jesus is going to go from raising his friend, and making this family whole again, to being condemned and executed in a most brutal way.

When Jesus finally arrived in Bethany, he literally was going into the lion’s den. In fact, when he told his disciples that he was going to Bethany to see about this family, one of them sighed and groaned something to the effect of, “Well we might as well go along, so we can die alongside him.” It is here on the outskirts of Jerusalem, on the rim of imperial power, at the very doorstep of those who consider him a potential rebel and almost-certain blasphemer, that Jesus performs the final of the seven signs in the gospel of John by calling out to Lazarus from the grave. It is from here, in Bethany, that Jesus is going to enter Jerusalem to palms and hosannas from the people, which we will commemorate next Sunday. And it is one short step from that adulation to that same crowd demanding Jesus’s death.

Make no mistake.

Jesus’s gift of love and mercy for this family is going to lead directly to the cross. And the party in the gospel today is the brief intake of breath and steadying of nerves before we take a plunge over a precipice into a deep abyss.

But that despair will not hold.

God has done a new thing for us, as Isaiah proclaims, new every morning when we decide to take those steps not just as disciples but as friends alongside Jesus.

So who are the people who fill out the scene before us? There are three siblings: Lazarus, and Martha, and Mary. None of them speak in our little story, but they all witness to the power of love in their own way. There are also some disciples, but the only one who speaks here is Judas Iscariot, and John makes sure that he gives us foreknowledge so that we have no sympathy for anything Judas does or says.

Lazarus is the reason for the celebration. Lazarus is Jesus’ friend, someone Jesus actually weeps over,

and he has just been given the greatest gift anyone can receive. Jesus has done this by calling out to Lazarus, and orders him out of that tomb and into life as if he was ordering him to walk across the room. This reminds us of John 10, where Jesus describes himself as a shepherd, and states that he will call his sheep by name and lead them out. In just this way, Jesus called Lazarus by name and called him out of death and into a new life. And Jesus is most certainly leading us with him to Calvary,

not just this week or this month but every day.  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” And so it is with us. We can listen to the voice of Jesus and allow ourselves to be led as well and be unafraid to seize the hope of life.

What are we being led from? It is also a death— being dead to the love of God

as it is expressed through our savior, Jesus Christ. Jesus speaks, calling to us out of overpowering love from the cross and, like Lazarus, our hearts begin to beat sure and true, and we rise as if from a dream. Lazarus never speaks—he does not need to. He just has to respond to the call of one who knows him by name. 

Every throb of his restored pulse sings hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.

We peer into the background of our scene, and that’s where Martha is. In the verses right before today’s gospel reading, even as her brother lies dead in his tomb, even when she could subside into despair,

Martha stated exactly what the authorities were afraid of: her belief that Jesus was the Messiah and Son of God, the one coming into the world. Martha is the one who declares that. Jesus is the point at which the Godly realm intersects with the created world, for the specific purpose of bringing resurrection and life into the world. Martha is the voice of faith, unshakable faith, even as she is filled with mourning.

Who knows if she understands, but she BELIEVES.

So in OUR story she doesn’t need to speak but serves— the verb that is used is diakoneo,  which can mean both “servant” and “minister” in Greek. Lots of attention always gets focused on Mary— but Martha’s part of the story reminds us that those who love Jesus live in a spirit of humble service to others.

And here’s Mary. She seems like the younger sister. It is obvious that where her brother is silent

and her sister is sober and practical, Mary is enthusiastic and effusive. Mary is not a person who suppresses her feelings. She loves Jesus, and so she uses an incredibly valuable, aromatic ointment to cleanse and anoint Jesus’s feet. The scent of her gift fills the entire house with a scent that meant sacrifice to all who breathed it in, since the same substance was used to make incense in the Temple. Now, this is the second time Jesus has been anointed— he was also anointed for his ministry at his baptism. Thus before each of the two stages in John’s gospel, Jesus is anointed and consecrated and set apart for the coming events.

This is the second time Mary has probably anointed someone for burial in just one week. Last week, she had probably anointed her brother’s body after his death. This time, as John’s gospel makes very clear, Jesus is being anointed for his burial. In addition, there are TWO extravagant gifts

we have to contemplate at this point:

Mary’s excessive display of devotion and worship today and Jesus’s determination and acceptance of his coming sacrifice on the cross in just a few days’ time.

Lazarus, Martha, and Mary: but Jesus through through friendship is a member of this family too. The only one who chooses to stand outside this circle is Judas. Judas criticizes the love that Mary demonstrates so powerfully here because he does not understand that love. That is a choice he made.

Judas complained about the waste of the perfume that Mary used, but really, wasn’t he complaining about the extravagant, prodigal, profligate love she was showing to her friend, her Lord, her Messiah?

But love is never a waste. I believe that even during Judas’s plotting, Jesus still loves Judas, and that’s a love that certainly can envelop you,

and me,

and every one of us, no matter how unworthy we feel.

That love is not wasted, no,

but its sweet scent slips sideways into the breeze

and penetrates through the cracks of our broken hearts

broken in the struggle to ignore the shepherd’s call.

And there, at the center of it all, is Jesus, OUR Messiah. The Incarnation of God into the world-- yes, but the incarnation of God directly into our own lives, who calls each of us by name. He calls us to come out of death into new life, a real life. A life enlivened by faith responding to Jesus’s love for us. A life that responds to the extravagant gift that Jesus has provided to us.

Jesus IS the resurrection and the life. This is the ultimate gift of love that Jesus through the cross gives to us. A life that many might judge foolish, but is the only life to live if we want to live through God.

When we wash each other’s feet on Maundy Thursday here at church, we sing “Ubi caritas, et amor… ubi caritas, deus ibi est.,” which is Latin for “Where there’s charity, where there’s love, God is there as well.”

God is with Lazarus as he stumbles from the grave into the light of new life, and God is with us as we stumble our way through life— life not as we planned it, but life as it IS, confusing and terrifying and joyful and filled with grace.

God is with Martha when she proclaims with such certainty that Jesus is the Messiah and when she then trusted in that faith to step back and serve God through serving others.

God is with Mary when her love bursts forth through rules of propriety and seizes by the throat all those who see and think her foolish.

God is with us 

as we stumble

on our tiny baby feet of faith

in the light of new life,

our journey walking and working

alongside our Savior as faithful servants

and beloved friends.

Amen.

Prayer 37

O God, we place our offerings before you this day. We offer you our thanks for the glory of your creation. We offer you our love, to be given to you and to each other. We offer you our song. We offer you our faith. Many of us will come to your table today. We thank you for the blessing of fellowship. Help us to walk away renewed for the path today will bring. Help us to go out into the world, rejoicing in the name of the Lord. We cast before you our cares and concerns and ask for your saving help for those whom You love. Amen.

Lectionary Notes 2/24 2 Lent C

Genesis 15:1-12; 17-18

This entire episode takes place during a dream or vision. God promises Abram a great reward, and Abram kind of grumps like Han Solo in Star Wars: “What good’s a reward if you ain’t around to spend it?” Instead, Abram’s spin is “What good’s a reward if it will go to people outside my family?”

We can forgive him for being grumpy. Every other time that God has told Abram to do something, Abram has done it without a single question. Get up and pack everything and go to Canaan, a land you’ve never seen? Sure, God. Ten years before, in Genesis 12, God had promised that Abram would be made a great nation, and a lot has happened since then: famine and a trip to Egypt; his nephew Lot captured, forcing Abram to go to war (Genesis 13). Abram is rich, yes, but he has no direct descendants, and a slave from Damascus is his heir. Abram is a very old man; he moved to Canaan at age 75, and had been living there 10 years when this promise was made to him. He had been married for a very long time, and his wife was considered to be barren— and yet, when God tells him that his blood descendants will outnumber the stars, for the first time, instead of just doing whatever he is told, he asks for clarification.

Here’s what was omitted—a dream in which God tells Abram that his descendants will be slaves, will eventually triumph: ‘¹³Then the Lord said to Abram, “Know this for certain, that your offspring shall be aliens in a land that is not theirs, and shall be slaves there, and they shall be oppressed for four hundred years; ¹⁴but I will bring judgment on the nation that they serve, and afterward they shall come out with great possessions. ¹⁵As for yourself, you shall go to your ancestors in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. ¹⁶And they shall come back here in the fourth generation; for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete.”’ I think this omission is actually important and changes the story considerably—it adds a darker note, and shows that there will be suffering even in the midst of all the good things. That’s real life.

As it is, in the version we have, Abram receives the promise, he sacrifices as God commanded him to do, and he falls asleep into “a deep and terrifying darkness,” then suddenly there is a smoking fire pot and torch going in between the pieces of the offerings. Supposedly, it is God passing between the pieces, thus binding himself and assenting to follow through with giving the land between the Nile and Euphrates to Abram’s descendants and giving Abram children.

What is described here is called a “covenant ceremony.” This was described in Jeremiah 34:18-20: 18 Those who have violated my covenant and have not fulfilled the terms of the covenant they made before me, I will treat like the calf they cut in two and then walked between its pieces. 19 The leaders of Judah and Jerusalem, the court officials, the priests and all the people of the land who walked between the pieces of the calf, 20 I will deliver into the hands of their enemies who want to kill them. Their dead bodies will become food for the birds and the wild animals. An animal would be sacrificed and split into halves; the parties would walk between the halves in a figure 8 pattern, and then would stand in the midst of the blood between the two halves (remember, blood is a symbol of power and life) and pronounce blessings and curses based upon fulfilling the terms of the covenant as is described in the Jeremiah passage.

Why was Abram so favored by God? He wasn’t from any special family, nor was he particularly wise. It was because he had faith—he was righteous. He was so righteous he could intercede with God on behalf of Sodom. This is later going to be a very important theme in the Pauline writings: membership in God’s people is through faith, not works or ancestry.

Psalm 27

This psalm is an exercise in building up one’s courage when feeling fearful and oppressed. It begins and ends with the author advising himself what to do to enable him to face the things that terrorize him. He starts with reminding himself that God is his “light and salvation,” God will provide guidance and protection. He ends with reminding himself to be patient and trust that God will come through.  This God has a personal, intimate relationship with the author—“MY light,” “MY salvation,” “the strength of MY life,” “MY helper.” Indeed this relationship is even more important than human kinship, since father and mother have forsaken the author (verse 10).

There are three sections to this psalm. Verses 1-6 talk about being strong and filled with faith. Verses 7-12 are in the form of a lament, not as confident as the beginning of the section, wavering and almost getting overwhelmed with the dangers that the author faces. Verses 13-14 are moving back toward confidence and trust, with verse 14 once again more sure that, eventually, God will “comfort your heart” in God’s own time.

Philippians 3:17-4:1

The biggest question confronting the early church in regards to proselytization was whether Gentile converts had to live according to Jewish law in order to be Christian. Early on the original apostles said yes; Paul (and later Peter) are going to be convinced that this is not necessary. It is this dispute that Paul is referring to. Those who disagree with him are condemned in some pretty strong terms here. Instead, the Christians at Philippi are asked to be like Paul and not try to be a member of the nation of Israel but a citizen of the heavenly kingdom. Outward signs, such as circumcision or Jewish dietary laws (“their god is the belly”), are unnecessary. The Pharisaic focus on strict adherence to hundreds of rules is a fixation upon earthly things, in Paul’s opinion, and he is speaking as a former Pharisee. This reminder about being citizens of the kingdom of God applied to the Philippians in another way, since residents of Philippi were given the privilege of being Roman citizens as well.

But let’s try to apply this to our situation. We may not have people in the Church attempting to force us to live according to the Law--- or do we? There certainly is a split in Christendom as well as in our own Anglican Communion between those who attempt to apply Levitical precepts to modern Christians.

Many people emphasize the self-denial part of Lent over the self-reflection part, and that line “their god is the belly” certainly strikes some of us, myself included, pretty vividly. Our society suffers from an emphasis on the material aspects of culture to the detriment of spiritual aspects. Our minds are usually set on earthly things. That’s the measure of success. But we are not called to be willing to settle for such a small life. We are called, as part of the Body of Christ, to bring about God’s kingdom here on earth. Salvation is not something that is an individual concern, salvation is setting the values of the world right, establishing a new creation that all partake in. Paul is asking the Philippians to be not just fans, but disciples-- to not just talk but walk the path that the cross of Christ sets out before us. We can’t be guided by our own desires, but be transformed into helping to bring about God’s kingdom in the world—and that means denying ourselves.

Luke 13:35-41

Jesus has been going through Galilee, healing and casting out demons in the face of opposition. He has also been answering questions about the nature of the kingdom of God. But he’s also been doing something else in almost all of these activities as well: he’s been criticizing the Pharisees. Just before this pericope, Jesus had told the parable of the narrow door (Luke 13:22-30), which implies that those who have resisted Jesus’ teaching will not be able to enter the Lord’s house. The verse just before this (Luke 13:30) repeats the adage that “some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.’ 

So it does seem a bit strange that it is Pharisees who come to warn Jesus that Herod wants to kill him. Remember Herod the Great, the one who was king when Jesus was born, who wanted to kill the baby Jesus when told about him by the Magi, and later slaughtered all the baby boys under the age of two (the Holy Innocents)? That Herod is not THIS Herod. This Herod is one of the original Herod’s sons: Herod Antipas, who has been given a fourth of Herod the Great’s kingdom to rule—the part that includes Galilee. And yet he is still pretty ruthless himself. It is this Herod who has imprisoned John the Baptist (Luke 3:20) and then later killed him (Luke 9:7). Jesus is warned by Pharisees of Herod’s intent to kill him, too. Why? It’s unclear, but we need to remember that most of Jesus’ ministry has been in Galilee thus far, and Jesus was a well-known former disciple (it is thought) of his cousin John.

So why do the Pharisees warn Jesus of impending danger? If we know the context, it could be that they are trying to silence Jesus and get him to abandon his ministry, which would certainly suit their purposes—lately Jesus’s ministry has been focused on attacking the Pharisees. Then there’s another thing implied by Jesus’s response: “Go and tell that fox….” Jesus knows the Pharisees have been in league with Herod, and Jesus implies that they still are. Perhaps this is all a ploy by Herod AND the Pharisees to drive Jesus out, somewhere else where he will be someone else’s problem.

Jesus sneers at the idea that he has anything to fear from this “fox.” This is an insult, since foxes are unclean, and they are attributed with the characteristics of being sneaky, slinking, cunning, and manipulative, living through stealth rather than through honest labor. He has important business—business that reinforces the difference between God’s kingdom, where healing and mercy, repentance and faith are the order of the day, and Herod’s family’s rule, full of malice and threatened murder of innocents. Jesus knows that he faces death, and he has embraced this and is at peace with it-- but it will not be at the hands of Herod. This section of the story, or pericope, only appears in Luke.

Jesus is clear, and he is resolute. He will not be shaken. He will go to Jerusalem, and in doing so he is fully aware that then his work will be done, and he knows what happens to prophets who go to Jerusalem. Zechariah was killed in Jerusalem by King Joash (2 Chronicles 24:20-22), and the prophet Uriah was murdered there too by King Jehoiakim (Jeremiah 26:20-23). Isaiah was from Jerusalem and ended up being sawed in two at Menasseh. 

But this does not shake his resolve. He mourns the fact that the people of Jerusalem are so recalcitrant, and reject his attempts to love and brood over them as a hen broods over her chicks. Jesus foretells the destruction of Jerusalem (“Your house will be left to you [desolate]”). Jerusalem will be left desolate because it has refused to obey God and rejected God’s son and prophet. The last line echoes what will be shouted when Jesus enters Jerusalem on Palm Sunday (Luke 19:37-38): “Blessed is the King who comes in the Name of the Lord!” which is a quote of Psalm 118:26.