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.

Scrambled, Over-easy, or Poached?

Matthew 20:1-16 and Jonah 3:10 - 4:11

Our God is indeed gracious and merciful. Our God is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. Those familiar words and words like them form prayers we repeat throughout our worship, are contained in the texts of the hymns we sing and even frame our liturgy. We lift them up because, aren’t these the things we love about God, the things in our relationship with God for which offer our thanks and praise? Isn’t this the gospel that we yearn to and need to hear – that God is full of mercy; that God loves us; and that God’s grace is bountiful and big enough to forgive all our sins?

While all of that is true, God is all of these things and more, as our scripture texts illustrate this morning, one thing that our God is not, is fair. And somehow, despite all those things that I just listed and all the other attributes of God we could name, deep down inside we want a God who is fair. More to the point, we want a God who is fair as we judge fairness.

            The concept of fairness is important to us. Very early in life we begin to make judgments about what is fair and what is not. And very early in life we begin to push back when the treatment we observe or experience, or when life itself does not meet our expectations and demands of fairness.

I was reminded of this recently. When I visit my son and his family which includes our grandson in Pennsylvania, I usually spend a lot of my time, most of it, in fact, playing with 4 year old Alex. We play all sorts of games. While the other adults are talking, preparing a meal or otherwise engaged, I become this child’s favored playmate – a role I really enjoy.

While I was on a trip up north on business not long ago, however, I decided to stop by to say hi and to load up my car with some things I needed to bring to Easton. I didn’t get to play with Alex that day, despite his repeated requests (which are really more like demands, truth be told) of, “will you play with me now?” My repeated answer was, “I’m afraid not this time, Buddy. Next time I come, we’ll play together again.”

How to explain to a four year old the very real demands of adulthood and limitations of time? As I was preparing to leave, I found Alex sitting on the couch next to his mother. He wasn’t in the mood for a hug or a kiss or a tickle. As I turned and walked away, I heard the lament in his voice as he quietly told his mother, “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair!” Alex was disappointed. He expected Grandma to behave in the way she had always done – as his playmate. I had disappointed his expectations. I had scrambled the usual order of things. We can all probably relate, and empathize with Alex and join his lament at times.

Back in the day when John McEnroe was a big name in the tennis world, I used to love to watch him play, less, to be honest, because of the tennis being played, and more for the entertainment value of those matches. John was known for his firey temper and bad behavior. It was not unusual for fist and voice to raise, feet to stomp, and expletives and tennis rackets to fly when John was displeased. And what set John off the most was what he felt were unfair calls on the part of the umpire or line judge.

As I think about it, what probably attracted my attention and held my interest in these performances was that even though I thought John’s reactions to perceived unfair calls and plays, and his frequent misbehaviors were outrageous, infantile, and even downright shameful, I got it. I understood what it was like to want to flail around protesting what was unfair.

John was only doing, on the public stage, what the inner child in me wants to do when I feel disadvantaged, disillusioned, and frustrated because things don’t go my way and injustice reigns. John’s fury mirrored what I feel deep down inside when someone else gets what should be my rewards, or their rewards are simply out of balance with who they are and what they have done.

When I watched those matches and rooted for John McEnroe, maybe what I was really doing was living out my own protest to the injustices and unfairness in my own life vicariously through John’s antics. “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair!”

Both the story of Jonah and his reaction to God’s mercy toward the city of Nineveh, and again in the gospel text today, we read echoes of this same indignant response to God’s mercy which seems unbalanced and unfair. We see echoes of the gut-level response we might feel when undeserved mercy and grace are shown to those we deem unworthy. And the stories and indignation resonate with us.

In Jonah’s case, God’s grace was dispensed to the city of Nineveh, the capital city of Assyria, detested enemy of the people of Israel. These are not the favored people of God, as Jonah’s people are. These are not decent, peaceful neighbors of the Israelites. Ninevites don’t follow the Law as received and shared by Moses. They are not worthy of God’s notice let alone God’s grace.

Yet, God has chosen to show this city mercy. When they heard God’s word, spoken through Jonah, they repented and mended their evil ways.  Jonah’s reaction was to become angry and morose. It’s bad enough that God issued this merciful reprieve to the city, but the fact that God used Jonah as the vessel through which God’s word was delivered and the city saved is more than Jonah can bear. He would rather die than see this great city of the enemy nation be saved. It’s not fair, LORD. It’s just not fair!

In the gospel lesson, we are confronted with more seemingly unjustifiable mercy. When we read this parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard, our “fairness meter” just goes flat. The story doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t play out the way it is supposed to. The laborers who have worked all day get paid the same wage as those who have worked only an hour? It doesn’t matter that they got paid the wage they agreed to, which they thought sufficient and fair when they were hired. The laborers deem the landowner’s generosity frivolous, and unjust. They should get more! It’s not fair, LORD. It’s just not fair!

Deep down inside we know that this story is consistent with the kingdom of heaven as Jesus has been illustrating it throughout his parables and indeed, throughout his ministry. We should know by now that the generosity of God, which knows no bounds, doesn’t operate in the same way as the world around us. In this parable once again, Jesus is scrambling the usual order of things, and challenging the usual assumptions about who is in and who is out, who is first and who is last, who receives mercy and who does not, who is valued and loved and who is not. In the kingdom of God all who believe are welcome, all are forgiven, all receive grace upon grace. The lesson Jesus imparts may be a tough pill to swallow – unless you hear with a renewed heart and mind.

Eric Barreto, professor at Luther Seminary, says that we hear this text through the lens of our 21^st century Western culture, and we interpret it as a parable about fairness in the kingdom of God.

We live in a culture where we are taught from the cradle that hard work will yield just rewards. You have to work hard for what you want. Nothing comes easy. Conversely, the spoken and unspoken lesson that we learn well is that the “have nots” are in dire straights because they have just not tried hard enough, not worked hard enough, not lived well enough to deserve the same kinds of rewards as those of us who have slaved away to earn what we see as our just reward.

Conversely, Barreto says, people of two thirds of the world that is undeveloped, people who live in lands where survival is a struggle, people who live on the fringes, hear in this parable a word of promise and grace. For them, this story is the story of a God who loves so much, whose mercy is so large, whose desire for relationship with the creation is so intense, that it turns the world upside down. For people who are open to receive it, this parable is not about what is fair and not fair. Instead, this parable is a story about a love so strong that it pushes through boundaries and grants the gift of grace to the least, the last, the lost, the little and the lifeless.

God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love – for all. In baptism we each receive the grace of God that is freely given to all. The truth is, that as Martin Luther wrote, in the presence of God’s mercy, we are all beggars.

Indeed, in the presence of God’s mercy, we are all a mess. God doesn’t give any of us what we deserve. Rather, God gives us what we need. We need God’s grace. We get offended by God’s divine distribution of grace because, my friends, we forget who we are. We forget that we are beggars. We forget that while some of us may clean up better than others and some of us may be better at hiding our sin than others, we are all like the Ninevites, and the last-minute laborers. We all fall short of that to which we are called. We all mess up. We all disobey. We all are utterly dependent on God’s mercy and grace.

But God’s generous gift of grace scrambles our expectations, scrambles the status quo, and scrambles our sense of fairness and justice. God’s gift of grace redeems us all. God’s grace makes forgiveness and reconciliation possible. God’s grace means there is room at the table for each of us, time and time again, no matter where we’ve wandered, no matter who we are.  

          And that, my brothers and sisters in Christ, is a game-changer, because the truth and the good news of this gospel is that God is not fair. Thanks be to God!