Episode Transcript
[00:00:01] Speaker A: Let us pray.
God of mercy, you promised never to break your covenant with us.
Amid all the changing words of our generation, may we hear your eternal word that does not change.
Then may we respond to your gracious promises with faithful and obedient lives through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
This morning's scripture is from Luke, chapter 13, verses 31, 35. You can find this on page 849 in your pew Bibles.
At that very hour, some Pharisees came and said to him, get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.
He said to them, go and tell that fox from 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 at 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. This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.
[00:02:10] Speaker B: Frederick Buechner once wrote this about tears.
He wrote, you never know what may cause them. The sight of the Atlantic Ocean can do it. Or a piece of music. Or a face you've never seen before. A pair of somebody's old shoes can do it. Almost any movie made before the great sadness that came over the world after the Second World War. A horse cantering across a meadow. The high school basketball team running out onto the gym floor at the start of a game. You can never be sure. But of this you can be sure. Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest of attention.
They're not only telling you something about the secret of who you are, but more often than not, God is speaking to you through them of the mystery of where you have come from. And is summoning you to where you should go to next.
You never know what will open the doors to your heart out of which tears or lament might come.
One thing that sparked lament in many just yesterday was the news that one of the chicks born to bald eagles, Jackie and Shadow, had died.
A pair of cameras set up in Big Bear Valley have brought a live feed of this eagle's nest to viewers around the world. When I last visited my parents at A retirement community down in San Diego. Right outside the dining hall was this enormous big screen tv. And a bunch of people were glued to the screen. And I was wondering, what are they watching? That grabbed everyone. It's this live stream of an eagle just sitting on the nest.
But it has grabbed people, this live feed.
The severe weather of this past week is believed to have caused the death of one of those chicks. And for many, this has caused great sorrow. Why? Why the death of a little chick should spur that? I imagine it's because it reminds us that such a fate awaits us all. And too many little ones, little chicks, little children in the world today, are lost to death.
You know what caused tears to come to my eyes today was hearing Nora play that dang mazurka, Chopin's Mazurka in A minor. You know, I played those pieces for years growing up when I was a middle school student. A lot of classical music I was not drawn to. But I love the mazurkas. You know, something about the beauty and the sadness of them seemed a wonderful tragic element to them. And they grabbed me. Even in recent years, I would play the mazurkas. And something that made that piece feel especially heavy for me today is remembering. Oh, yeah, that CD of Rubenstein, Arthur Rubenstein, performing the Mazurkas, that CD that I had listened to incessantly. And you can ask Jill if you don't believe me.
It's now gone in the fire, as is my sheet music for the mazurkas, as is the piano on which I played them. Now, as I share that with you, I do so with some hesitation, and I need to say this. Please don't go buy me Arthur Rubenstein's double CD of Chopin's Mazurkas. I know some of you were thinking it. I know you.
You're thinking, I've got a great gift. He lost the mazurkas. I'm going to give him thanks for that thought. But right now, friends, I don't have a CD player.
And the truth is, there's now Spotify, so I can get the mazurkas one way or another.
But it's still. Hearing that music stirs up that piece of my heart that is tied to them, has great memories. A piece of music can do that to you. Can't it recall for you a sense of loss?
Today we read of something triggering that great sadness in Jesus. And it poured forth from the heart of our Savior, something about the Pharisees telling Jesus that he should quote, get away from here for Carid wants to kill you was a kind of spark that lit the lament that emerges from Jesus mouth. Maybe it was the reference to Herod that evoked our Savior's sadness. Maybe it called to his mind the face, the memory of John the Baptist, the very one who baptized Jesus in the Jordan River. And maybe he recalled with that word Herod, how that was the one, that tyrant who had beheaded John the Baptist. You know, even the word of someone who behaves with cruelty, who does awful things, behaves immorally, a political leader who does that. It can spur in us deep sadness or anger. It can stir the heart. Do you know what I mean?
One name can do that, a name like Herod.
Maybe it was the phrase wants to kill you that triggered our Savior calling to his mind and heart. What he knew already that he was on a journey to Jerusalem, where he would be put to death not by the hand of Herod, but rather by some of the religious leaders in Jerusalem, the chief priests and scribes. They would hand Jesus over to the Roman authorities who would then crucify Jesus.
Maybe those four words wants to kill you triggered our Savior calling to his mind his approaching death at the hands of leaders of his own people and of a brutal occupying empire.
What we do know is our Savior's heart was broken. How do we know that? We see it not in literal tears flowing down his face. Though I have to say, if Chris Slatoff were sculpting this particular scene From Luke, chapter 13, verses 31, 35, I'm guessing he might just carve tears onto our Savior's face. I picture him that way. We don't read of tears the way we do In John, chapter 11, verse 35, when we read that Jesus wept. But here, it's like the pathos, the sadness pours out in words of lament.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Jesus says. And that repetition. Jerusalem, Jerusalem. It might call to mind that psalm of lament, Psalm 22 that begins, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
According to Matthew and Mark, those were the words that were on our Savior's lips as he poured out his life and love on the cross.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem. It calls to mind other prophets who lamented the coming disaster that would befall that city. Hebrew prophets like Jeremiah, Micah, Ezekiel bemoaned how Jerusalem would or had become a heap of ruins, a desolation, a haunt of jackals. Jesus words recall his people's great sadness time and again about the fate of of their city, Jerusalem. Their own actions, their own allegiances are tied to the calamity that befalls their city. It isn't just outside forces. According to what we read in scripture, the prophets often cite a failure of the people to do justice, to defend the vulnerable, to love mercy and not wealth or power, to do justice to defend the vulnerable, to love mercy, not wealth or power, and obey God's commandments and walk humbly with God when their people fail to follow that path proclaimed by the prophets, bad things lie ahead. The prophets warn of this time and again, Especially with regard to that city of Jerusalem after that heart wrenching beginning. Jerusalem. Jerusalem. Jesus then employs another heart wrenching image to describe his sorrow. He compares himself to a mother who yearns to gather her children, the children of Jerusalem, to herself, to offer them the protection of her wings as a mother eagle would in a winter storm.
She longs to protect them from foxes that would threaten them, threaten to devour them.
But her children were not willing. It might call to our minds a parent who sees their child racing out into ongoing traffic or engaging in destructive behavior that the mother knows is going to lead to their own destruction. But she can't stop it. All she can do is invite the child back home, invite the child into protection, counsel the child, but the child will go their own way. And as a mother, when you see your child going the wrong way, Lord have mercy, it can break your heart.
One of the most heartbreaking images I can imagine. You know, a lot of people will stop me these days and say, oh man, I wonder what it's like. I just can't imagine what it's like to lose your home. Here's what I can't imagine, what it's like to lose my daughter.
That would truly be a loss I can't imagine.
From our Savior's heart pours forth this lament for Jerusalem, like that of a parent towards their child, mourning that Jerusalem would be left desolate, a wilderness.
Now why should a city be the focus of our Lord's sorrow? Why doesn't Jesus just say, oh my children, my children, or oh my people, my people. Why should he begin with Jerusalem? Jerusalem.
The truth is that city of Jerusalem in Jesus time was symbolic of a people, symbolic of the children of God. It was not only the ancient capital of the united kingdom of Israel and Judah, but then when the kingdoms were divided, it still was the capital of Judah. And then even in times when Jerusalem was ruled by foreign powers like Babylon or Assyria or Rome, the city in its memory called forth so much in God's people. It evoked that sense of A people united in that city. Jerusalem was where God's own house, the Temple stood atop that Temple Mount, the Temple so often called Mount Zion.
Today, Jerusalem still has powerful significance for a host of people, Jews, Muslims and Christians. The Associated Press reported some 90,000 Muslims gathered for worship at the Al Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem this past month to engage in the first Friday prayers of Ramadan. Al Aqsa is the third holiest site in Islam. Many traveled hours and had to go through multiple Israeli checkpoints to get there. And many were not able to get through through. But it's a sacred place to many Muslims, and so they endured much to worship there. Today the Temple Mount is also in Jerusalem, with its Western wall in particular housing special significance for the Jewish community, as does the whole city of Jerusalem. And then there's the Church of the Holy Sepulcher for Christians and the history that speaks to our faith as well as followers of Christ.
People of all three faiths traveled to that city, Jerusalem, for worship and a sense of connection with others of the faith. Both the state of Israel and the state of Palestine today called Jerusalem their capital city. It had that degree of symbolic significance back then as well, that this was a powerful connecting point. Point.
May Jerusalem today truly be what's imagined in the 56th chapter of Isaiah, that the holy mountain of Jerusalem might house a sacred space of worship for all peoples.
Sometimes a place is more than just a place. It's a symbol of a people and their connection with one another. A shared plot of earth, a shared sense of community, a shared history.
When I think of a lament many of us might utter today that I would utter, it might well begin.
Altadena. Altadena. See, your house is left desolate, a wilderness.
I mourn the elements of the loss caused by factors that we humans cannot control. The ways in which the Eaton fire was truly a natural disaster. For millennia, humans have suffered from winds and fires and storm.
But I lament too, and you may as well. The human factors that contributed to this particular disaster. How climate change tied to human behavior has made fires so much more common and deadly. And I mourn how other human factors played a role. You know, those choices a city makes around what energy is available, in what form or what resources are directed, where and when all that is. It's part of the picture. You know, human agency is not removed from this. It's a part of it. And scripture is relentless in reminding us of that. We're part of this calamity. And we know what it's like to Mourn for a place, don't we? We know what it's like to lament like, oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem. I heard a lament for Altadena this past Wednesday. I was at a gathering of pastors and nonprofit leaders and representatives of the police department and the Pasadena Unified School District. We met at the Brookside Restaurant at the Rose Bowl Golf Course. And one of the many reports given that morning was from Nick Arnzen, the vice chair of the Altadena Town Council.
He and his husband and their son and daughter lost their Altadena home in the Eaton fire.
He shared about the challenge of trying to serve in that volunteer role, of being on the Altadena Town Council and also trying to deal with his own family's issues in the wake of that loss.
And I was moved by his giving of his time and energy in that role that recalled to me how many of you have given of your time and energy to the city and given it to your church, our church, and what a gift that is. I thought of that the other day when we were ordaining and installing elders and deacons. What a gift. And I saw this fellow Nick, having poured out his heart for this city. And as he shared with me and others how Altadena residents valued their trees, I thought, oh, yes, that's me.
And then he talked about visiting Pacific Palisades, and he talked about visiting in particular areas that had recovered from fires before Altadena. And he shared that. One thing everybody says if you've been through a fire is that in the wake of that, as part of the recovery and rebuilding, the community turns on itself, he says. Time and again, this happens, he says, so brace for it. There's a lot of anger, a lot of sadness, and that will come out in a variety of ways. So be prepared for it. And we're prepared for it. But when I heard that, it just broke my heart. You know, you don't want to see your community turned against itself.
What a thing to hear. The hard road that lies ahead.
Jerusalem. Jerusalem. With those words, Jesus sees the hard road that lies ahead. How his people would turn to infighting, turn to rejecting the prophets among them. Why? Why love a city so much? Why love a people so much that it will break your heart when they suffer loss?
Why risk that?
Why dare to love a city?
I think you could ask that question of a parent, and the parent would say, how could I not love my own children?
That's how Jesus describes his own love for Jerusalem. And it's also how Jesus describes the love of God, you remember in Luke's Gospel how he describes the great love of God, like that of a father whose son asks for his inheritance in advance. And it is like pronouncing a death sentence, like saying, father, you are as good as dead to me. The father gives him the inheritance as Jesus tells the story. And then the son takes that inheritance and squanders it in profligate living. And the father keeps loving that son. The son returns destitute, impoverished. The Son. The Father keeps loving that son. That's the kind of love that Jesus describes is God's love for God's people. And that we see as well in Jesus Lament for Jerusalem is in fact God's love incarnate in Jesus Christ as he describes his own love for the children of Jerusalem in language that evokes the Scriptures, speaking of God's love for a people as being like that of an eagle for her chicks, an eagle who longs to shelter them under the refuge of her wings, but they were not willing. And so in this Lament of Jerusalem, we glimpse the very heart of God, a heart that is determined to love us. A love that would take our Savior all the way to Jerusalem and to the cross. A love that knows it will suffer rejection, but just can't stop loving God's children, even children like me.
I want that kind of love in my life.
I want to experience it and I want to show it.
And I know, I read in Scripture, and I know from my own experience as you do, it will evoke tears and sadness. There will be times where what is inside will just well out in tears or in laments.
But I want it to drive me anyway. Don't you? When my heart breaks open, when the tears flow, I want to see love at the core. Don't you? To see love pouring out, not something else. Love of God, love of neighbor, love of the church, love of the world.
It can make us weep for communities we love. Our church, our city, our nation. When they suffer loss or they go tragically astray, as communities of people invariably do, when a people of which we're a part make tragic decisions, it breaks our hearts.
But I want to love anyway. I want to love anyway. Maybe it's the parent in me, or maybe it's the parent in you.
As we're reminded today in the baptism of JT And Addie, we are all children and we are all parents. All of us have been baptized. We've been marked as beloved of God by the waters of baptism. God's love has poured over us, and it can't be erased. It's a love that will not let us go.
And we're all parents.
We are all pledging to raise children and one another in the ways of Jesus, like a parent would.
And will our children, the children of our own families or the children of our congregation, make choices at times that will break our hearts? Even make the choice to reject that love of God that has meant so much to us, that has been that pearl of great price, that treasure hidden in a field. Will they?
Yes, they will.
Do you stop baptizing? Do you stop loving?
No.
No.
And to keep going, you just keep clinging to that love that will not let us go.
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, amen.
