On the Road Again - Making Divine Music

Luke 13:31-35

There is an old Willie Nelson song that goes, “On the road again.

Just can’t wait to get on the road again.

The life I love is makin’ music with my friends.

And I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Well, I don’t know if Jesus was as anxious to get on the road as Willie Nelson apparently was, knowing what would come at the end of the journey.

Still, Jesus might as well have been singing that song at this point in the gospel of Luke,

because Jesus is “on the road again.”

He’s on the road with his friends.

The music he is makes delivers the good news of a God

who loves the world so much,

that, despite the cost, God’s wills this journey

to continue to its destination.

Jesus has been making music,

delivering this good news along with

          a new imperative that God desires the salvation of all people;

                   that in God’s economy, grace and mercy abound

                             for those who trust in the goodness of Our Lord.

The road Jesus is on is the road to Jerusalem.

It is the road of his divine destiny.

Enrique Simonet Lombardo Jesus journeys to Jerusalem

It is the road to his passion, to his death on the cross,

                   and ultimately, to his resurrection.

Yes, Jesus is on the road again.

And not everyone is happy about it.

In this gospel text, Jesus reveals that by God’s will, “it is necessary”

 – this road,

this journey,

this story –

it is the fulfillment of the divine plan,

the purpose for which he came,

to be on that road.

The journey that Jesus makes to Jerusalem,

reveals that Jesus is committed to fulfilling God’s will.

But he is not without opposition, traveling down that road.

Along his journey, Jesus clashes with one opponent and obstacle after another.

Despite the danger, despite the warnings,

despite his rejection by the Jewish leadership and elders,

          Jesus is “on the road again.”

And in today’s gospel text, he faces down Herod Antipas, “that fox,”

who, unlike our conventional characterization of the fox

is not an emblem of wisdom, but rather a figure of cunning deception.

In Jesus’ context, the word he chooses for “fox”

Would have been understood as someone more akin to a weasel –

an animal that steals the food of others,

as Herod once stole his own brother’s wife.

Later in the gospel of Luke, we learn that Herod participates in the event to steal

the very life from Jesus,

and attempts to steal any semblance of hope

away from those Jesus came to embrace.

Along his journey and on that road, Jesus clashes with the Pharisees time and again,

that group of men who pretend in these verses to be looking out for Jesus’ welfare,

but who secretly and not-so-secretly plot to be rid of him.

As we see in the parables, Jesus and the Pharisees

clash time and again.

The clash between Jesus and the temple leadership

often takes the form of debates and disagreements over the

meaning and scope of God’s love

and God’s agenda for humankind, as Jesus sings a new song of inclusivity even as the Pharisees cry out for the continuance of the exclusive, preferential following of Law.

Jesus reminds us in this text

that there is a clash between Jesus and Jerusalem as well,

as Jesus calls to mind the Old Testament stories

that reveal the many times God has sheltered the people of Israel

under God’s protective wings,

and yet has been rejected by this stubborn and recalcitrant people.

Their rejection has led to the slaughter of prophets God has sent.

If nothing else,

this story reminds us that it takes courage to be a prophet and disciple of God.

Prophets tell us news that we really don’t want to hear.

The world doesn’t want to hear God’s cry for repentance and divine justice.

Jesus’ ministry, teaching and life call for a radical reorientation

of our lives, - that is what repentance is all about.

It is this call for repentance that we observe and pursue during Lent,

that we might prepare to be transformed by the love and mercy of God.

Repentance demands a radical reorientation of thought –

 what should we consider important, who do we welcome, encourage and embrace?

          How do we view our time, talent and treasure – what and who is it for?

This kind of radical reorientation of priorities and being upsets the status quo –

No longer can we hide behind a “it’s just the way it is” philosophy or excuse for falling short of the mandate of God to love our neighbor as ourselves and to make love our primary objective in life.

No longer is following tradition an acceptable excuse for ungodly behavior that has little to do with God’s desire and character and more to do with selective interpretation and application of the law to benefit and uphold a status quo that marginalizes and excludes others.

The evangelist Luke reveals throughout his gospel how, on and all along the road,

Jesus demonstrates a radical reorientation that raises up the weak and lowly.

Like a mother hen, through Jesus, God seeks

to draw, embrace, include, and welcome God’s children into the family

of humanity that God has desired and intended from the dawn

of creation itself.

Luke’s Gospel identifies the priorities and inclusiveness of God’s love from early within the evangelist’s narrative of the life of Jesus.

We remember that it is to the shepherds that

the good news of the Messiah’s birth is first told

 – shepherds – themselves considered among the lowest of the lowly.

They were not considered nice, respectable people.

Rather, they were considered undesirable, dishonest, dirty,

despicable people only suited to life out in the fields with stupid sheep,

not acceptable within the social networks of the village or town.

Even before the shepherds in Luke’s narrative,

we meet Mary,

the peasant teenage girl who,

 Freskenzyklus im Dominikanerkloster San Marco in Florenz

chosen by God to deliver unto the world the messiah, sings a song of revolution:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden,” she sings out, words that we have come to know of as “The Magnificat” – (My soul maginifies).

In Luke, we will soon read of a prodigal son and his reckless father, of a Samaritan who is not only good, but who, by his actions is more righteous than the “proper” Jewish passersby who refuse to give aid where it is needed.

 The song Jesus sings along this road is consistent with the love of God that reaches out into a world so far beyond redemption

that it takes a radical reorientation of God’s own design to save it.

It takes the incarnation of the Son of God, Jesus Christ,

who gives heart and voice and power to the powerless,

          and calls his disciples to do the same.

Of course, you can’t raise the status of the marginalized without

affecting – even lessening –

the power structures of the powerful.

And so, radical reorientation demands courage, too.

It means allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, as Jesus became vulnerable

understanding that following God’s will

does not guarantee a happy ending

          or our personal safety or our own comfort.

As we heard in last week’s gospel story of Jesus in the wilderness,

following God’s will sometimes mean testing

– not from God –

but from the forces that resist God’s will.

Our experience not only of the world but even of the church today

demonstrates the distance that we are from God’s divine imperative to love

and welcome all people.

The rhetoric in our media, in our speech, in the political arena,

in our schools, on social media, in the workplace,

and in our social networks often belies our claim

that we are doing better at this than in the past.

We live in a world obsessed with status and power – not unlike Jesus’ own world –

and consequently, our world is rife with political machinations

-         Again, not unlike the world along the road that Jesus walked.

Too often we make excuses for the resulting waywardness

of our hearts.

Radical reorientation in our gospel text today points to the reality

that there will be winners and losers in the clash between Herod’s will

and God’s will, or between God’s will and Jerusalem’s will, or God’s will

and the will of the “powers that be” within the world today.

The overarching story of Jesus reminds us, however,

that what the world deems “winning” is often not winning at all.

Because this radical reorientation also points to the presence of the kingdom of God

that is at work and loose in the world, which

does not measure success or victory in worldly terms.

Rather, it measures the value of each person as beloved, prized, and worthy

of God’s sheltering wings simply because God declares it to be so

through Jesus, Our Lord.

Researcher and storyteller Brené Brown studies human behavior and sense of being.

She looks at things like what makes the human being anxious, and stuck in place. Perhaps you’ve seen T.E.D. talks she’s done on the power of vulnerability.

She states that “You can’t get to courage without walking through vulnerability.”

For Brown, “Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage.

Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable,” she says,

“But they’re never weakness.”

Jesus allowed himself, in fact he made himself vulnerable

in ways that make us uncomfortable;

 in ways that we really don’t understand,

in ways that the world sees as weakness.

We don’t understand why Jesus had to go to the cross.

We don’t understand this divine imperative that required such a sacrifice.

As disciples of Christ we are also called to make ourselves vulnerable.

We don’t like placing ourselves in positions of vulnerability.

          We don’t like opening ourselves up to ridicule, pain, or worse.

Perhaps that’s what makes it so hard for us

to follow Jesus on this road as faithful disciples.  

The Good News for us, this day,

is that Jesus understands our reluctance,

and through the love of God forgives us,

and sets us on our disciple feet over and over again,

willing us to learn through our own journeys what the honest vulnerability of faith can do.

God gave Jesus the courage and ability to get on the road, to live the kind of life he lived, in obedience to the will of God; to sing the song of hope for the ages as he goes on, “making music with his friends.” “Blessed,” Jesus declares as he calls those who need shelter under his wings, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”

Let us pray,

You call us to a radical reorientation of our lives. Turn us away from that within us which causes us to resist the deep, broad, compelling call to love others as you have first loved us. As we journey on this road with Jesus, shelter us from evil doers, from evil thoughts, and from the reluctance, born of fear, to make ourselves vulnerable for your sake. Grant, O Lord, that we may ever sing with you, that the music we make is pleasing to you, and that trusting in you, we will not stray from this road with you. In the name of Jesus we pray. Amen.

Revolution

John 1:[1-9], 10-18

Greetings to you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, on this, the Second Sunday of Christmas; a Sunday in which we in the church are focused, one last time this year, on the gift of the child born in Bethlehem. Our crèche is still sitting, now, so close to Epiphany with the Magi approaching the stable, right here, front and center. Tonight has long been known as twelfth night, the eve of Epiphany, and according to the old English Christmas Carol, “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” we are preparing to receive the gift of twelve drummers drumming.

Meanwhile, though we may find ourselves in the Christmas season, waning as it is, the rest of the world has already moved on. The year has turned – and we are already several days into a new year, with new challenges and new possibilities. Merchants are displaying Valentine’s Day wares.  You’ve probably already hung your 2014 calendar, you might be in the beginning stages of gathering your documents together for tax season, and you’ve probably even made your New Year resolutions, if you do that kind of thing – and as we are only five days into the New Year, so far, chances are you’ve even kept the resolutions you’ve made – so far.

I’ve seen an AT&T commercial a few times in the past couple of weeks. In it, there is a man sitting at a pint-sized table with a group of small children in what looks like a preschool or kindergarten classroom. He begins a brief conversation with the children, asking an open-ended question – a really risky thing to do with small children, as I have learned the hard way in children’s sermons over the years.

In this ad, the man begins by asking, “Is it better to be more reliable or less reliable?” Of course, the kids all answer, in unison, “More reliable.” So far, so good – I’m sure this is the answer that man is looking for, given that it is a commercial for AT&T, after all. Then he asks the kids, “Why?” One little boy answers in all sincerity, “So you can keep your New Year’s revolution.”

“A New Year’s revolution! Oh no! What are you going to do?” the man asks, in mock alarm at the thought of kindergartners in revolt. (Which, I admit, is a pretty scary thought!)

The boy then answers, “I would have more time to eat jelly beans this year.”

Relieved, the man responds, “Oh, so it’s not so much a revolt, more just like you eating things that are bad for you.”

“Yeah,” answers the little boy, nodding.

“I can deal with that,” the man responds.

This commercial gave me a chuckle at first, but then I got to thinking about the intersection of these words - resolution and revolution – in the Christmas story. Let me explain.

As Christians, we know Christmas not just as a holiday or festival, but rather as a time that witnesses to a reality that permeates our whole life. While God’s love for God’s creation and people has not changed from the beginning of time, in the birth of the savior, God’s tactics for how that love is made manifest not only changed but ignited a revolution.

In the past, God resolved to love, provide for and accompany God’s holy people into the Promised Land in a covenant relationship. And when the people’s sin and corruption and betrayal repeatedly broke that covenant, rather than cut them off forever, God did something revolutionary; God resolved to save God’s beloved from sin and death by entering the world in fleshly form. And God’s revolutionary presence in the world upset things so much that, in John’s words, “his own didn’t know him……they did not accept him.” Instead, they killed him and hung him on a cross. But God’s revolution in Christ Jesus prevailed in victory over death and the grave in the resurrection of Christ.

Our revolutionary reality is that in Christ, God inhabiting human form, God taking on flesh, makes us new. David Lose writes, “God has become flesh, entering a world of sin. God goes to the cross and dies. God becomes our dust so that we are given God’s life and resurrection. The sacred enters the profane and the world will never be the same.” That, my friends, is revolutionary. And it is balm for a world thirsting for peace and for justice.

For while it is still true that through God’s love we are given all we need to live and to love in harmony with one another and with God’s whole creation, sin persists. We find ourselves in conflict, broken, disappointed, defeated, and wandering. The Old Testament text from Jeremiah today reflects experiences of the people of God in the time of exile, but it also describes our own condition: devastated and lonely, lost, experiencing life filled with zigzags, detours and derailments; we find ourselves stumbling, staggering, and falling down. Yet unfailingly, God responds to our overwhelming need, and guides us back to brooks of refreshing water through baptism, where our mourning is turned into joy.

In our gospel text today, John’s Christmas confession extends beyond the baby born in a lowly stable and wrapped in cloths and laid in a manger. It is the belief that he existed before creation and comes to us and lives among us now; that he was always and is always participating with us as we explore what living as heirs of God’s magnificent reign of love means in our lives. In Christ, God is revealed. In Christ, God becomes known. In the Word, this incarnation of God born of Mary, Jesus the Christ, God’s revolutionary stand is burned into the history and life of the world.

As we gather today, we still have the nativity scene here to remind us of the Christmas story that we heard on Christmas Eve. That story includes a baby in a manger, parents traveling to Bethlehem, angels, shepherds, and a star. Later, it includes the magi, too. In our gospel text today, John gives us a version of the Christmas story as well. In John’s rendering, the attention shifts from Jesus’ birth story, to ours. For in this text, we are reminded of our birth as children of God – that, Jesus came into the world so that we – you and I might become children of God.

In John’s telling of the Christmas story, there is no baby, no manger. There is no report of parents traveling to Bethlehem. There are no angels, no shepherds, there is no star nor report of magi bearing gifts to greet the newborn king. This is no historical account of the birth of Jesus Christ, the messiah. Instead, in the gospel of John, we get a statement of faith about God’s incarnation, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only begotten son, full of grace and truth.” And it is through this Word, the only Son of God that the fullness and true extent of God’s love becomes known to us and is shared with the entire cosmos, and it changes everything.

For those facing despair, the Word gives us cause to take heart and realize that we are not alone, and that these trials will not overcome us. The revolutionary Word of God is a word of hope for all people. The revolutionary Word of God, whose coming has made us children of God, refuses to allow our lives to be dominated by the trials we face, nor by the circumstances in which we find ourselves. It will not allow us to be identified by the clothes we wear or the color of our skin; it does not count our age or gender, accomplishments or sexuality, the measurement of our intellect or bank balance. God’s revolutionary Word became human and entered the struggle of human life as love incarnate, as God’s inclusive word of compassion, forgiveness and reconciliation with and for a fallen world. Revolutionary indeed.

Kae Evensen writes, “Our lives are messy stuff but God entering every corner of the world means that there is no place God is not: the linen cloth that held the Christ child becomes the Veil that has been torn, and from it we are unbound. Jesus is in our midst. Now, sins are forgiven, wounds are healed, the dead will rise.”

What is ordinary now bears the extraordinary, revolutionary promises of Christ. Promises like unconditional love, salvation, grace and mercy extended to all people.

As God’s resolution for the salvation of humanity took on the form of revolution with the birth of Christ, as God joined intimately with the whole of humanity, God invites each of us to join the revolution as well. We are called as children of God and heirs together in Christ to share the love of God within this world in which we live. Jesus comes into our midst calling us to revolution as well. We are invited as children of God to resolve that we will follow in the Way of Christ, forgiving, healing, and disturbing the status quo that denies the reality of God’s sovereignty. To follow through on this resolution means that we will revolt against all forms of slavery, oppression, discrimination, injustice, poverty and hatred.

On this Sunday and every day may it be our resolution to actively take part in the revolution of God in Christ. In this most powerful, meaningful, transformative revolution, led by God and demonstrated in the live, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, let us bear witness to the miracle that takes place not only in a stable in Bethlehem but each and every day within the hearts of every child of God. May we declare with every sound of the drum that as we have received from God grace upon grace, we resolve to dedicate our lives to the peace, equality, love, mercy, and care for all of God’s creation and for all people.