March 4, 2007
So. Here we are. It’s Lent. It’s Lent, the season of preparation for that most sacred time of our church year coming up during Holy Week. It’s Lent, when we’re encouraged to spend more time paying attention to God and our spiritual lives. It’s Lent, when we are commended to fast in whatever way might be appropriate for our circumstances, and to give alms – focusing our attention and resources on the poor, on those in need. It’s Lent, which means that Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. The gospel stories we hear during these next weeks are all from the second half of Luke, after Jesus has ‘set his face towards Jerusalem.’ That is, after it becomes clear to him that he will come into conflict with the religious and political authorities, and the most likely place for this to happen is the center of that authority – Jerusalem. This city is where his journey will inexorably take him, and it is, as we know, where all of the action will happen.
However, Jesus is not there yet. He is still, and will continue to be, engaged in his ministry of spreading the good news about the reign of God. This is clear also from today’s gospel lesson, in which some Pharisees let Jesus know that Herod – the ruler of their region, who had already beheaded John the Baptist – wants to kill him as well. But Jesus is not especially concerned about this; he makes it clear he still has his work of ministry to do. He tells them, ' Go and tell that fox for me, Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.’ It’s not time right now, is part of what he’s saying. There’s more work to be done. We aren’t there yet. And then he says, ‘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.'
We already know why this place, the city of Jerusalem, the center of religious and political power. But now there’s the person, the role, the who, to consider – the prophet. It’s worth looking at why a prophet is especially a target, especially at risk, there in the city of Jerusalem. Remember that the message of a prophet, says Jurgen Moltmann, is God is coming, change your hearts. The prophet proclaims a vision of God’s justice, God’s compassion, and asks God’s people to take part – to change their hearts, to engage God’s vision of justice and compassion for the world. And this could change not only their lives, but it could also the systems of power in which the people live. A prophet offers a political critique – a critique of the systems of authority and power – that those in power and authority rarely, if ever, appreciate. Jesus was such a prophet. And at this point in this season of Lent, the gospels are setting us up, pointing us in the direction that Jesus will follow, and mean to get us thinking, about Jesus and his message, and how we hear and live out that message.
There’s probably more that could be said about Jesus, and Herod, and how and when the two will cross paths. There’s probably more to be said about Jesus, and Jerusalem, and how and why all that is coming will unfold the way the way that it does. But there will be another time for that. As I’ve thought about this gospel lesson this week, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about Jesus, thinking about prophets, as the Anglican primates’ communiqué and all of the response it has engendered starts to settle. I was at a meeting this week with Bishop Chane and some of the gay and lesbian clergy of the diocese, and I have to tell you, what our bishop had to say about the Anglican Communion, the primates, and all of this was not especially encouraging. The House of Bishops meets in a couple of weeks, and they will likely start to discuss what the primates are asking the Episcopal Church to do. Namely, promise not to approve of any person who is elected bishop if that person is gay or lesbian, and also for those bishops who do allow priests to bless the relationships of gay and lesbian couples to prohibit it in their diocese. That, at least, is what it seems as if the primates are asking. It is not clear how the House of Bishops will respond. But it would be tragic, in my opinion, if the Episcopal Church, of which St. George’s is a shining example, backed off of what I believe has been a prophetic stance when it comes to the welcoming of all sorts and conditions of people, including gays and lesbians. The reality is, Jerusalem is not the only place which kills its prophets; sometimes, sadly, the church does it too.
And as I’ve been pondering all of this over the past ten days or so, there’s another gospel story I’ve been thinking about, a story which perhaps we can draw something useful from. The story is about an encounter that Jesus has with a man named Bartimaeus. He is blind, and sitting by a roadside when he hears Jesus is walking by. Bartimaeus wants to speak to Jesus, but he is told by those around him and by the disciples to hush. To be quiet. To not make a scene, to not make a fuss. Jesus doesn’t have time for someone like you, they pretty much tell him. But Bartimaeus doesn’t listen to those voices. He perseveres until Jesus hears him, and sees him, and invites him forward. And when Bartimaeus is finally standing in front of Jesus, Jesus asks him this question: what do you want me to do for you? And with no hesitation, Bartimaeus answers this question: My teacher, I want to see. Jesus asks, and Bartimaeus has the strength and courage to answer, standing face to face there with the Messiah. Now we can have a conversation another time as to whether the sight he seeks is physical, inner, spiritual, any or all of these; for our purposes, it doesn't matter. What matters, it seems to me, is that Bartimaeus can answer Jesus' question because he knows who he is, and he knows who God is calling him to be. That's why he can stand in front of Jesus and say what he wants and what he needs to Jesus himself: because Bartimaeus knows who he is, and he knows who God is calling him to be.
Last week we heard the story about Jesus being out there in the wilderness for forty days, being tempted, being alone with himself, and God, and the adversary. We heard about how Jesus had the Holy Spirit with him, which helped him resist the temptations he encountered. And my conviction is that by the time he left that wilderness, Jesus too knew who he was. He found and claimed his identity. And it was his knowing who he was, and who God was calling him to be, that allowed him to have the far-reaching ministry he did. He was a prophet. He spoke truth to power. He spread the good news of the reign of God and invited the participation of all people. The powers, of course, did not appreciate that. The religious powers and the political powers did not appreciate the way Jesus could shake up both people and the oppressive regimes that kept them under the thumb of the Roman occupying power. We know the result was that in the end the Roman authorities decided that who Jesus was and who God was calling Jesus to be was too much of a threat to them and their unjust system. And we know how that one ends up.
In a few weeks we will walk through those stories of Jesus' final days, and we know that he gave his very life, holding fast to who he was and who God was calling him to be all the way through the end. And it could have ended there, with Jesus’ death, but it didn't. It didn't end there, because of the relationship that Jesus had with God and the love God had not just for Jesus, but for us and the whole creation. God raised Jesus from the dead as an affirmation of Jesus' life, his ministry, and his identity. Jesus knew who he was. He knew who God was calling him to be. He knew he was chosen in part to confront the powers that be, and to bring freedom and healing and justice to all oppressed people. And by raising him up, God affirmed those values that Jesus gave his life to.
This meeting I went to on Tuesday night was demoralizing to me and the others who met with our bishop. I left much more discouraged that I had hoped I would be. But here's the thing we need to remember: if the bishops of the Episcopal Church forget who they are, and who God is calling them to be, at least we have a bishop and are in a diocese who knows. Our bishop will not sell us down the river, or throw us under a bus, on the idol of some false and mythical unity. And besides our bishop's strong leadership, we have something else. We have St. George's. We have us. We have this community. We have our history and our conviction and our trying to live out our mission, to be a community that truly values diversity and works towards justice for all people. We are and continue to work to be a circle ever wider and a people ever free. We know who we are, and we know who God is calling us to be. That is what will make the difference for us. That is what should keep us going in these difficult times. That claiming of our identity as a congregation and as a people. That, and prayer, and the reminder that Martin Luther King, a prophet in his own right, gives to us: that the arc of history is long, but it does bend towards justice.
Being a prophet was not and is not an easy thing, as a myriad of biblical examples attest to. Jesus gave his life because he was a prophet of God. And in our time, right now, being a church in the Episcopal tradition that has taken a prophetic stance is not always an easy thing either. But that’s okay. Because we know who we are, and we know who God is calling us to be. May those around us be strengthened by our witness, and may we have the strength and the courage to continue to make our circle ever wider.
Amen.