Lent 2C
Luke 13.31-35
The familiar adage, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” has described a plethora of strange relationships--personal, professional, and geo-political--down through the ages. The adage sort of describes the reality of the Philadelphia Eagles and the Pittsburgh Steelers of the National Football League in 1943. World War II was the enemy for everyone. And it literally forced the Eagles and their nemesis the Steelers to combine their teams due to lack of players. Reporters dubbed them the Steagles. Although the team did surprisingly well, it might be apt to refer to the Steagles relationship as: The enemy of my enemy is my enemy. As one source noted, the two coaches--Philadelphia's Greasy Neale and Pittsburgh's Walt Kiesling--”hated each other with the nuclear fire of a thousand colliding suns.” Wow.
The adage may also be an appropriate description of what transpires in today’s gospel. Jesus’ antagonists, the Jewish religious leaders in the first century known as Pharisees, come to warn him of a threat to his life. While Jesus and the Pharisees do not always agree, there is one thing that they can agree on: the loathsomeness of King Herod. Herod, a Jewish ruler, partnered with Rome to keep the peace in Israel, as well as benefit handsomely from the relationship. This is also the Herod who brought the head of John the Baptist to Salome after she danced before him. It is not surprising that Herod might have it out for Jesus who was a friend to John the Baptist and seen as a like-minded prophetic type. Thus, the enemies of Jesus--the Pharisees--warn him of something more sinister. A threat to his life.
Interestingly, Jesus ignores the well-intentioned warning. He says, “I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.' Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!” Indeed, from the end of the season of Epiphany, where Jesus is transfigured on a mountintop, the whole of this Lenten season is Jesus coming down off the mountain, setting his face to Jerusalem, and entering into what we have come to know as Holy Week. Jesus will not be deterred. He has a rendezvous with destiny in Jerusalem. He all but signals this at the end of today’s lesson, “And I tell you,” he says, “you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'" He foreshadows Palm Sunday.
However, embedded in this narrative and perhaps more pertinent to us is the issue that Jesus raises about prophets. Specifically, how they are treated. In our day, we may look back at the prophets with devotion and reverence. They were the mouthpieces for God. Isaiah, Jeremiah, Elijah, Amos, and so many others. Yet, were we to meet a prophet today, we probably would be ready to have them stop speaking for God sooner than later. The prophets challenged the status quo. They railed against those in power and the wealthy. They demanded justice in a time where inequity was the rule rather than the exception. They were not popular. They were not celebrated. They certainly were not loved. The prophets, as Jesus notes, were often killed.
Thus, tension rises as Jesus, the prophet, makes his way to Jerusalem. A showdown is brewing. There he will challenge not only Herod, but those who warn him, the Pharisees. They are the priests in this scenario. Those who administer the prayers and sacrifices on behalf of the people. They are the institutional power that serves God. Though, at times, they also transgress their position, abuse their power, and act in opposition to God. Priests and prophets are not only players in a religious drama, they embody a tension within the very tradition itself and within our lives. Priests represent order and structure for the development of the tradition. Prophets represent the challenge to such order and structure when it fails to live and breathe God’s will. Notably, the priests of Jesus’ day have allowed the tradition to become stale, stolid, stagnant. The voice of the prophet bears the word of God against the priests’ corruption and exploitation.
This tension between priests and prophets has played throughout the centuries. Regarding Christianity, Diana Butler-Bass underscores the irony of our tradition. She writes:
The history of Christianity can be told as a story of the tension between order and prophecy. Jesus came as a prophet, one who challenged and transformed Judaism. A charismatic community grew up around his teachings and eventually formed into the church. The church organized, and then became an institution. The institution provided guidance and meaning for many millions. And then it became guarded, protective of the power and wealth it garnered, the influence it wielded, and [the] salvation it alone provided.
We should not be surprised that institutions can become stagnant and spiritless. And we, ourselves, can fall prey to this in our own spiritual life. What began as a helpful rhythm and structure for prayer, purpose, and meaning, can over time become hardened and inflexible, lifeless. At times, we need the priest. At other times, we will die without the prophet. Indeed, we may be living through one of those transformative moments. With the steady decline of church attendance over the past 40 years, people have reflected a malaise that organized religion has fostered. Diana Butler-Bass rightly notes:
Organized religion fears such [spiritual] outbursts; but spiritual outbursts almost always precede real reform. Might spiritual discontent be today’s prophetic edge, needling institutions to listen, to change, to be more responsive and relevant?
This is the question that we as a community must struggle with. While we may value the rhythms of liturgy and life together that provides meaning, purpose, and value, we also must heed Butler-Bass’ words regarding the need to listen, to change, and be more responsive and relevant. We have talked briefly at points about the Reimagining Church committee. The group works with Yale Divinity School to do exactly that: listen, change, be responsive and relevant. This work will hopefully yield a project or a plan that we can work on in the near future, and we will certainly let the parish know about the committee’s work in April. Yet, this type of work is never done. We must always be reimagining. Listening. Changing. Responsive. Relevant. The prophetic voice of Jesus and the prophetic stance that he took in entering Jerusalem is the model that we follow. We are called to speak out against injustice. Our baptismal covenant exhorts us to respect the dignity of every human being. Our life in Christ was never intended to be a private affair. Indeed, our life in Christ seeks to model his life: service, healing, unconditional love particularly for those on the margins, those discriminated against, those abused by the world. As Jesus recognizes, doing this can be dangerous. It can get you killed. Though, it is the very thing that might just save the world.