Homily for the Second Sunday in Lent
March 13, 2022
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My Beloved Sisters and Brothers: It is beyond time for us to get this straight. We want to control, but then we fail. We try to trust, and things get better. We believe that they are better because we are just that good. Then, we want to control, and once again, we fail. Are you seeing the cycle? I know that I am.
The readings for this Second Sunday in Lent, invite us once again to trust, and maybe even to stay there. These are covenant promises that God has made, to Abram and to us. While we have plenty of examples to discourage us from continuing this cycle, we also have plenty of evidence that Jesus will continue to reach for us. We have all of the negative—and positive—reinforcement needed to change. And, Lent in 2022 is a great time to try.
Janelle Hiroshige puts it this way: “These days, there is no shortage of material when it comes to difficult news. News of an ongoing pandemic. News of violence, oppression, and communities pitted against one another. News of death and loss – not to mention the difficult moments in our personal lives. We are also facing our own personal losses and fears within our own communities. In fact, this week is around the time that COVID-19 first disrupted our lives. It’s been two years. We are entering the third year of it. Who’s tired?” (https://www.episcopalchurch.org/sermon/comfort-lent-2-c-march-13-2022/) We can only imagine the fear, fatigue and loss in the Ukraine right now. Even from this distance, it feels like more than our hearts can process.
Psalm 27 illustrates our typical approach in times like these by speaking about Yahweh from a third person perspective. “For in the day of trouble he shall keep me safe in his shelter; * he shall hide me in the secrecy of his dwelling and set me high upon a rock.” This is how we pray when we are wanting it to be true but may not quite believe. How do we know this? That was verse 7. In verse 10, the focus and tone switches. We sometimes do that when we believe that it is time to depend on God, but we are not quite ready. Now in first person, we can hear a plea, and perhaps a hint of toddler impatience: “Hearken to my voice, O Lord, when I call; *have mercy on me and answer me.”[The one speaking] believes that God’s goodness will be made known in this life; at this time in Israel’s understanding, life after death was only a . . . shadowy semi-existence. The final verse of assurance is probably the priest’s reply, speaking as an oracle of the Lord.” (https://www.preparingforsunday.com/Lectionary/rm66rm39rr/)
We begin Lent by remembering that we are dust, but that this life is not all that we have. And yet, so much of our perspective is rooted here. That means the focus is strung between scarcity and abundance, a balance that seriously challenges us. And, when we focus on what is wrong, what we are missing, and what we long for, it can be pretty difficult to be happy here and now. Where ought we find that happiness? Our Saviour —Jesus, not the church—offers the specific place to begin.
We have an unusual image of Jesus in this morning’s Gospel reading. Don’t let the gender issue challenge you. God is more than we can ask or imagine, and this is no exception. But we need to pay attention. These are words that Luke attributes directly to Jesus, and they add much to the ones that are born of our own expectations. Think about the words with which we speak of Christ: Saviour, Redeemer, Good Shepherd, Son of David. All of these are from our perspective, from our side of this relationship. And yet, these words recorded in Luke (and in Matthew, strengthening their likelihood of being true,) would seem to provide words for the way Jesus sees himself, in relation to God’s own. “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!”
Do we understand this context? Jesus is specifically speaking about Israel’s deafness to her many prophets. It reminds me of our oldest son as a small child, confidently proclaiming “I do what I want.” Jesus is also speaking to the Pharisees: “Furthermore, the people most revered in that society, its religious leaders and scholars, wait outside a closed door, seething in bitterness and frustration. Because they have rejected Jesus’ overtures, they have missed their chance to enjoy the banquet of God’s reign.” (https://www.preparingforsunday.com/Lectionary/rm66rm39rr/)
But the question needs to be asked. In what ways are we confidently proclaiming, “I do what I want?” In what ways are we ignoring and deriding the invitation to rest under comforting and protective wings because of our stubbornness, our defiance and our need to control every blessed thing?—as though we even could. In what ways are we giving lip service to Jesus and only asking for help in times of great need? (Asking for a friend. . .) It happens. Human life happens. But we cannot be rooted in this world when we are already in a covenant relationship with Jesus. We are marked as Christ’s own forever.
That means that the cycle we create to control, to fail, and to try to trust, is a false construct on our part. There is already an overarching cycle of love and trust and protection that we are choosing to ignore. “Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son.” I challenge you to read the Collect for the Second Sunday in Lent every day this week, and to find yourself in those words. We need to hear them both in terms of penitence, and in the light of steadfast faith.
Jesus is unchangeable. It is time for us to break the cycle, and return to Love.
Amen.
Written while watching this grand-dog and 3 others. . .
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