Lent 2

Luke 13:31-35

Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." He said to 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. 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.' Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'"

* * *

As I read Luke 13:31-35, I was struck by how in it Luke upends the ordinary roles we (or at least I) expect from both Jesus and the Pharisees. Whether my surprise is a function of an incomplete understanding of the context of this story or is a normal reaction to Luke's effort to keep us on our toes, this passage certainly provided some food for thought.

First, it is interesting to see the Pharisees assuming what appears to be a protective role with respect to Jesus. After all, are these not the same Pharisees who from my earliest Sunday School memories are held up as targets of scorn, the quintessential examples of what not to do and how not to behave if one wishes to truly live a Godly life? Yet here they are rushing to warn Jesus that Herod is plotting to kill Him. But perhaps I give those crafty Pharisees too much credit; are they perhaps acting in an entirely self-interested manner? Consider that Jesus is performing miracles (casting out demons, healing the sick, etc.); this cannot help but leave the Pharisees, who must be accustomed to being the "big deal" in town, looking and feeling second-rate. Are they perhaps, then, simply feigning concern for Jesus and ushering him out of town in an effort to rid themselves of an unwanted rival?

Second, Luke tells us of a somewhat different Jesus from the one of which I usually find myself thinking (again, perhaps due to visions ingrained in Sunday School as a youth). Is it not a bit surprising to hear of Jesus acting so cocky? This is not Jesus-as-martyr or Jesus-as-teacher, this is Jesus as tough guy, telling "that fox" Herod that he'll leave Jerusalem when he's darn good and ready! I envision a tent-revival-type setting, with Jesus at the middle of a crowd, healing, preaching, exorcising, etc., when all of a sudden a few Pharisees enter from stage right, whisper in His ear, perhaps expecting Him to scurry offstage to some secure location. But of course Jesus defies them and instead keeps right on doing what he's doing, with more bluster and bravado than I'm used to seeing!

Yet then, in yet another twist, Jesus seems to retreat from His bluster, only to express Himself in yet another somewhat unfamiliar way, like a frustrated parent throwing his hands up in exasperation at kids who, despite his best efforts, just won't listen. Why, Jerusalem? Why won't you just help me help you?

All of this leads up to a third seemingly unusual picture of Jesus: Jesus in a fit of pique. Here is Jesus at the end of the passage essentially taking his toys and going home! He tells the people of Jerusalem, "Fine! You don't want me? I'm outta here, and I ain't comin' back until you change your tune!"

Luke definitely threw me a curveball in this passage, one which forced me to admit that too often I find myself neglecting to explore the multifaceted nature of some of the most familiar Biblical figures.

Saint Matthias

John 15:1, 6-16

‘I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine-grower. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become* my disciples. As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.

‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants* any longer, because the servant* does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.

* * *

Someone gave me a pop quiz the other day, asking me to name the 12 apostles. I didn’t do very well. I was only able to name two right off the bat (Peter and Judas); after some thinking, I got up to nine. And, perhaps not surprisingly, Matthias was never on my list.

Do you not remember him either? Matthias is sort of a B-List apostle: he was chosen by lot after the death of Judas so that there would still be twelve primary disciples. (Twelve was a significant number for Jesus’ Jewish followers, representing the twelve tribes of Israel.) Matthias doesn’t seem to have possessed any particular qualifications for apostleship (other than having not betrayed Jesus), and he doesn’t seem to have done anything especially remarkable after his election as an apostle.

And yet it’s precisely this anonymity that I find particularly comforting about Matthias. Especially at the beginning of Lent, I sometimes get lured into thinking I have to prove what I great disciple I am. (I can give up not just one sweet, but all sweets! For forty days! I’m amazing! Surely God must love me for how amazing I am!) And then I think about Matthias. He wasn’t particularly great. He was just . . . there. And his presence and his willingness was enough, with God’s help.

We get promised, in the gospel for this day, that we are all branches of the same vine. And there is blessed relief in that image. We don’t have to be extraordinary. We don’t have to do it all—whatever it is—on our own. We just have to stay rooted in God, and connected to God. And God, thank God, does the rest.

First Sunday in Lent

Luke 4:1-13

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread." Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone.'"

Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, "To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours." Jesus answered him, "It is written,

'Worship the Lord your God,
and serve only him.'"

Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written,

'He will command his angels concerning you,
to protect you,'

and

'On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'"

Jesus answered him, "It is said, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

* * *

The temptation of Jesus is, to me, one of the most relevant passages in the Bible to our daily lives. All of us, daily are tempted, whether it be to break our diet, to "win" something in the wrong way, or to doubt our faith. The possibilities, and the temptations, are endless. I know that I myself fight with temptation, big and small, every day. And, unlike the stories in the Bible, the temptations we face in our daily lives and the "right" choices are not always immediately obvious. Often they are hidden, often the "right" choice is not easily defined. This is perhaps the greatest struggle of our adult lives: to live a life of good choices, to be a good person, to stand by our commitments, to follow Jesus' example, to have faith.

And yet these are also some of the most basic lessons from the Bible that we teach children. Be true to yourself. Know who you are. Do not give in to temptation. Take the high road. Goodness is it's own reward. Trust that God will lead the way, light your path, set you on the course of life that is right for you. Is it odd that we stake out these positions for children in such black and white terms, when frequently they arise in situations that are anything but clear cut?

What would have been the most difficult of Jesus' temptations for you, the reader, to bear? For me, it would be the third. At the point at which Jesus is likely physically and emotionally weakened from fasting and the prior two temptations, how easy would it have been for him to say, fine, you don't believe I am the Son of God? You don't believe that God protects his own? Fine. Here it is. Now do you believe me? And I personally find that temptation the most, well, tempting from an absolute standpoint. It's the most intangible, it's the one that has nothing to do with the physical. It rests solely on faith, on belief, on the unknown. It is the one that, in my own life, when things do not go as I had hoped or planned, I try to remind myself of, over and over again. Do not test God. He needs no testing. He has nothing to prove. Just open your heart, accept God's love, and have faith.

Ash Wednesday

‘I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word’ (BCP 265).


Today, Ash Wednesday, begins the season of Lent. For the next forty days, excluding Sundays, we are called to a period of self-examination and repentance and reading and inwardly digesting the Holy Scriptures. One of my earliest memories of Ash Wednesday, and more broadly season of Lent, is taken from my early elementary-school days. Inevitably, the kids in my class would begin asking “What are you giving up for Lent?” “Chocolate”, “being rude to others”, and, in jest (most of the time) “homework” topped the list. Almost as inevitably, about half way through Lent someone would say, “You’re not fasting! You said you gave up chocolate, and I saw you eat a piece of Chocolate.” Laughs would be exchanged and before long our Lenten disciplines had gone the way of a myriad other hollow promises.

Observing Lent is not a childhood game of who can give up something the longest. Observing Lent is a spiritual discipline that guides us into a deeper relationship with God and a more mature understanding of ourselves.

In the reading from the gospel according to Matthew (6:1-6, 16-21) appointed for Ash Wednesday, Jesus offers sage advice for one seeking to begin and continue a spiritual discipline. At the heart of today’s passage from Matthew is Jesus calling us into a close relationship with God that is exclusively between us and God. We are called to not hamper our spiritual discipline by flaunting it before others. No, we are to engage in a spiritual relationship for the benefits we will receive by our close interaction with God. Once we have had that close interaction with God, then we are more prepared to take what we have gleaned from this experience and somehow seek to take that into the world. All the while remembering and recalling that we do this for God and a deeper understanding of our self not because Lent is a fun game to see what and for how long we can engage in some sort of self sacrifice.

We are called to observe a holy Lent. Who knows how we will grow: that is between God and each one of us individually.

Lent: Coming Soon!

Beginning on Ash Wednesday, we'll be trying something new: reflections on the gospel, written by members of the Trivium community. We'll be posting on Sundays, as well as on major feast days and each day during Holy Week. So check back for insight, inspiration, and a shared Lenten discipline.