Go & Tell

Luke 13:31-35
2nd Sunday of Lent

It occurred to me the other day that I haven’t met a bored person in years.  Do you even remember the last time you were bored?  Maybe when you were a kid: “Oh, I’m sooo bored!  There’s nothing to doooo!”  Not any more: we are always busy.  There is always something to do.  I have even learned to be busy with things to keep me too busy to do the things I ought to be busy with.  My friend Stan wanted me to write a report to the Presbytery and I kept putting it off because it was so tedious; I kept telling myself that I should do it, but really didn’t want to.  So I let every other job I’ve got take priority.  “Sorry Stan, but I have been way too busy.”  

I’ve even heard people use their business as a kind of humble bragging.  Have you noticed that?  You ask a person, “Hey, how have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve just been so busy!”  Then they list off all of the things they are doing, the meetings they’ve had to go to, their workload, and all the family obligations that have them pulled in a million directions.  

I’ve kind of done that at times, except the family obligations one.  I’m actually pretty lucky in that regard.  I was catching up with an old friend just the other day and said that I feel fortunate that my kids are only musical; they’re not terribly athletic.  No evening practices; no weekend tournaments; no driving to all corners of the state.  Nope, just the occasional concert and those are pretty enjoyable.  

But it seems that we are all, for the most part, always busy with one thing or another.  And don’t get me wrong, taken in moderation business can be as healthy as moderate rest.  My only caution would be to ask: what are we busy with?  Are we busy with distractions, and vices, and work-work-work?  Or are we busy with the things that Jesus would be busy with?  Are we busy with the things that seek our needs alone, or are we busy helping, and caring, and loving those that Jesus was busy with?  

There is a point in the Gospel of Luke, back in chapter nine, where Jesus is described as setting his face toward Jerusalem.  What this seems to mean is, starting from that point on in the Gospel, Jesus slowly and steadily makes his way toward Jerusalem.  From that point on, Jesus intentionally moves toward where his betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion will be waiting.  So when we get to our text for today, the reader already knows where Jesus is going and what he intends to do.  It’s kind of like the season of Lent itself: everyone knows where this is going; although there might be some surprises that await us.  

In our reading today, we meet some Pharisees who also seem to know where Jesus is going.  They come to warn Jesus because his life is apparently in danger and he should probably turn around.  Now I know what you’re thinking: since when do Pharisees care about the wellbeing of Jesus?  And that is an excellent question.  Luke doesn’t say anything about their motives; and for all we know, maybe they really are concerned about Jesus; but judging by the way Jesus responds it seems he thinks they’re being less-than-genuine.  

His response is delightful if you enjoy passive-aggressive insults.  He starts by insinuating that they know about Herod’s plans because they’re pals with Herod.  Jesus tells them to deliver a message back to Herod like they have a personal relationship with them; which is an idea that would have enraged them.  Religious orders like the Pharisees existed because of evil and corrupted leaders like Herod.  We mostly know them as the guys who care so much about not working on the Sabbath that they don’t notice that miracles are being performed right before their eyes.  But their beginnings had good intentions: whenever religion goes bad—when it becomes a tool of judgment and starts rejecting those Jesus would love—it starts with good intentions.  The Pharisees began as a way to lead the people back to faithfulness to God; a thing that the political and religious leaders had failed to do.  So insinuating that they had become buddies with those leaders would have been pretty insulting.  

And to top it off, the message he gives them to deliver to Herod, is clearly not for Herod: he says, “I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work [hint, hint].  Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.”  He cites the miracles he performs as evidence that he is indeed sent by God; that he is (at least) a prophet sent to gather God’s people under his wings to protect them against the foxes of the world.  And like any prophet, if you want to get killed, well you just have to go to Jerusalem for that.  

I can’t even imagine what the disciples must have thought about this altercation.  Would they be terrified that Herod knew about and was after Jesus?  Would they have enjoyed the way that Jesus stood up to these religious bullies, as it were?  Would they look back on this and see the promise of the work he would through dying and rising and say, “Oh, now I get it”?  Or would they notice a more-subtle point here?  Would they notice the contrast between the work Jesus was about and the work the Herods and the Pharisees of the world were about?  The work of Herod: all about gaining and maintaining power and wealth.  The work of people like the Pharisees: all about controlling others through judgment and legalism.  Their work: all about them.  The work of Jesus: all about humankind; especially those who were dominated, used, judged, and vilified.  There is an important lesson there for the followers of Jesus: what is the work we are busy with?  

If I use myself as a sermon illustration, it’s usually not flattering; the not flattering stories are at least more entertaining.  But I’m going to tell you a story that I’m actually kind-of proud of; I think I did a good thing the other day.  

I don’t know if you guys are still following the Pine River Times on the internet.  I don’t very often, but a couple of days ago, I read an article that made sad.  It was about something that happened at the library the other day, following a presentation on Buddhism.  If you don’t know, sometimes the library does seminars like that to help the good people of our community to expand their worlds a little bit; to better understand people and viewpoints that are different from ours.  That’s not the part that made me sad; I like that part.  

The article went like this: “At a March 9 book-signing at The Pine River Library, Rev. Alaric and Andrew Hutchinson, a married couple who own and operate The Zen Cowboy, were threatened by two individuals who said they will be “running them out of town.”

The two referenced Sodom and Gomorrah in regards to the Hutchinsons being gay and said they were perpetuating satanist views.”

Listen, I know that even in this room, we have a wide variety of opinions on what some call “alternative lifestyles”; and I know that those opinions are often shaped by what we read in Scripture.  I get it: it’s a complicated subject for most Christians.  That complexity is why I would never tell you what to believe when it comes to homosexuality; the Spirit is going to lead us to different conclusions and the Spirit has reasons I don’t understand.  

But as your pastor, I will tell you when the answer is simple.  And the simple answer is: Jesus would never say a thing like that to another person.  The work that Jesus was about was about healing and caring; his work was about loving the unloved; his work was about welcoming the unwelcomed.  You know what Jesus would do to the gay couple across the street?  He’d have dinner with them.  

So here’s what I did: I was pulling up in front of the church after learning that story.  I noticed a car out in front of their business and a man moving things from the car into the shop.  I felt that nudge that I’m learning not to ignore.  I walked over to the man and asked, “Are you the Cowboy?”  

I imagine, seeing me walk over to him from the church, he thought, “Now what?”  But he said, “No that’s my husband.”  

I said, “I’m the pastor of this church and I wanted you guys to know that the people who would threaten you and tell you you’re not welcome—especially in the name of Jesus—are not my people; frankly, I’m not sure they’re Jesus’ people either.  You are welcome here, and if there’s anything you need, we’re right across the street.”  He told me that what I said meant a lot to them and we parted ways.  

As we continue this Lenten journey let us remain focused on the Savior who walked it first.  Let us remember his journey that loved humanity so much that he would give his life for us.  Let us remember his journey, and by his Spirit, let us be about his work.