Sermon for Second Sunday in Lent - The Rev. Jeffrey W. Mello - March 13th, 2022
To view a video of the Rev. Jeffrey W. Mello’s Sermon, click HERE.
Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18; Psalm 27; Philippians 3:17-4; Luke 13:31-35
Two years ago this weekend was our first Sunday gathering in the new wilderness that was Zoom church. We didn’t have the technology, we didn’t have the experience, we didn’t have a clue what we were doing. We thought we were engaging in a temporary exercise that would surely be over by Easter.
Two months into this “experiment” of church and school and work online George Floyd was killed in the streets of Minneapolis, and the great racial reckoning of 2020 began.
We have ridden the waves of lessening restrictions only to watch the numbers climb again and restrictions tighten again.
And now there is another war. This time in Europe. This time with consequences that are far reaching for the entire planet, and not just at the gas pump.
And, still, we gather. And, still, we sing to the “Shepherd of Our Souls.” And, still, we raise support for the indigenous women and children of Guatemala. And, still, we explore our longings for a more just world at Friday Lenten House Church. And still we teach our children of God’s love for them in Sunday School, and still we break bread and gather at the table to be nourished by the one who was Love incarnate.
It has been a very long two years. And still we are not done. We are doing our very best to stay on the path, to keep on our way toward bringing about the vision of God’s beloved children living together here on earth as it is in heaven.
That isn’t to say that each of us have not had our moments when we have been tempted to raise the flag of surrender and give in to the whispers of complacency, the status quo or nostalgia. How much easier might it be to disengage from the hard work of loving one another as God loves us and just focus on me for the time being.
I don’t know about you, but I have had a recurring fantasy these past two years of moving to a cabin somewhere far from the tensions of the world; somewhere high enough to be able to ignore rising sea levels. Somewhere without obligation to anyone or anything but just me, and my family. I’ve told colleagues about my desire to open up a small store that sells unscented candles that no one would shop in. Something to keep me busy moving things around and maybe dusting, but no angry customer interactions.
Of course, anyone who knows me even in the slightest bit, laughs at my fantasies of solitude, knowing I would last maybe 24 hours in any of my dream scenarios.
But, it sure is nice to think about sometimes.
It’s been an exhausting, spiritually and emotionally draining two years. And the world shows no sign of giving itself over to God’s dream for it any day soon.
So, the work continues. And the temptations to flee the work; they continue to.
Things are starting to get complicated for Jesus in today’s reading from Luke’s Gospel. The Pharisees, who are Luke’s favorite foil for Jesus and his ministry, sense an opportunity to test Jesus’ commitment to his work and to his plan to continue toward the events that await him, should he stay on the path he has set himself on.
And there is a bit of a trick question for Jesus behind the Pharisees’ mask of concern for Jesus’ well being. “Get out of here, Herod wants to kill you” They say. Well, from elsewhere in Luke, we know that Herod does not want to kill Jesus, and he won’t kill Jesus in just a few chapters when Jesus is brought before him. Herod doesn’t want Jesus dead, Luke tells his readers, the authorities of the day, the mouthpieces of the status quo, complacency, and nostalgia want Jesus gone.
Leave, though, and Jesus abandons not only his work and ministry, but any claim to being a prophet in the line of prophets, aiming to disrupt the power structures to bring about God’s Peace, which is a peace born of justice and love.
Stay, and his fate is all but sealed.
When this confrontation happened, it had been an exhausting three years since Jesus was baptized and began his public ministry. Perhaps he, too, had fantasies of escaping to a small town in the desert, carving wood and sleeping well.
But Jesus is not deterred. In this moment, Jesus sees that the work he is about will not end with all of humanity gathered under his arms, like a hen’s brood under her wings, but with the brood continuing to choose fear over love, power over justice, conflict and destruction over peace.
But still he continues.
It may seem redundant or even a bit of gluttony for punishment that we still, given all that is going on in the world, engage in the practice of a Holy Lent. Isn’t the world “Lenty” enough? Why invite in confession and repentance? Why lift up images of barren desert and the cross? Why sing “Forty Days and Forty Nights” and not “We need a little Christmas?”
Barbara Brown Taylor writes about the early church’s need to create a Lenten season beautifully.
“When the world did not end as Jesus himself had said it would, his followers stopped expecting so much from God or from themselves. They hung a wooden cross on the wall and settled back into their more or less comfortable routines, remembering their once passionate devotion to God the way they remembered the other enthusiasms of their youth.”
She continues, “Little by little, Christians became devoted to their comforts instead: the soft couch, the flannel sheets, the leg of lamb roasted with rosemary. These things made them feel safe and cared for – if not by God, then by themselves. They decided there was no contradiction between being comfortable and being Christian, and before long it was very hard to pick them out from the population at large. They no longer distinguished themselves by their bold love for one another. They did not get arrested for championing the poor. They blended in. They avoided extremes. They decided to be nice instead of holy, and God moaned out loud.”
They decided there was no contradiction between being comfortable and being Christian. They decided to be nice instead of holy, and God moaned out loud.
Lent is a season of repentance. It is a season of forgiveness. It is a season of God’s boundless love. And I’m not sure what will change this world but repentance, forgiveness, and love. In the words of Presiding Bishop Michael Curry, how else will we transform this world, from the nightmare it often is into the dream God intends for it?
It is tempting, when the world shows no sign of giving us a break, to give up, and give in. It is tempting to trade “I must be on my way.”
“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” It is tempting to trade nice for holy, or comfortable for following in the footsteps of Jesus.
Jesus answers the temptation to veer off course stating, “I must be on my way.”
We must be on our way. We must stay on the way. We must hold fast to God’s way, if we have any hope of changing the world.
And, we know, and there are those who have always known, that the Way of God is the Way of Love, and the Way of Love can be a terribly difficult road to walk.
So we do not walk the road alone, but with each other. And we sing while we walk. And we create art while we walk. We read good books and take long naps while we walk. We laugh and we cry, we rejoice and we lament, AND we walk. And we will love while we walk on the way we must be on.
We must keep walking on our way until we look up and find ourselves surrounded only by the fulfillment of God’s dream for this world, on earth as it is in heaven.
Amen.
© 2022 The Reverend Jeffrey W. Mello