Jerusalem was supposed to be a place of peace. It is inherent in the name. Jerusalem is a combination of the Hebrew words for foundation and peace. Put those words together and the name literally means “foundation of peace.” For a time, Jerusalem was a place of peace. It was the throne of David, the king after God’s own heart. It was the capital of Judah, the city of Solomon’s temple. God put His name and His presence in Jerusalem. It was a special place. A holy place. A “foundation of peace.”
But something changed. Jerusalem did not remain a place of peace. It became a place violence. It became a place where the people of God rejected His message and killed His messengers.
I do not think the people of Jerusalem set out to reject God. They did not wake up one day and decide, instead of listening to God, they would make it their mission to kill His prophets, His spokespersons, and even, eventually, His own Son. They were deceived. Blinded. Deluded by sin and its author. As a result, they were unable and unwilling to hear the Word of the Lord. The “foundation of peace” became a sinkhole of violence, first for the prophets, and then for Jesus himself. “Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem…the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!”
The sad and ironic tragedy is Jesus had come to gather them together. To call them to repentance, yes. But also, to forgive them, unite them, and protect. The image of the hen gathering her chicks depicts a fierce and defending love. My mom’s dad was a farmer in Nebraska. Once there was a fire in a nearby field. Grandpa and the neighbors used their tractors and plows to create a firebreak to keep the fire from spreading. When the fire was out, they walked through the field to try to determine the damage and they came across a prairie chicken that had been killed in the fire. Pushing her body with his boot, Grandpa discovered under her body three or four small chicks: the mother sacrificed herself for the lives of her chicks. Like that prairie chicken, guarding her young, Jesus longed to gather and protect His people from the enemy. He was willing to sacrifice Himself for them. But they would not remain with Him. As a result, Jesus says in verse 35, they are forsaken.
We are not Jerusalem. But the same warning that Jesus spoke 2000 years ago remains today. These words serve as a warning for every place in which God has promised to be present with His peace. While the Church (that is, where God’s people gather around Word and Sacrament) is not in the same position of Jerusalem in Jesus’ day, the caution should be taken seriously. Shaped by more than only their baptism, it is tempting for the Church to resist the gathering love of Jesus and become a place of subtle forms of violence.
Think about people who refuse to be helped. You know people like this. It’s Tom, who refuses to see the doctor when everyone else knows he must, because he’s afraid he will be told he can’t live at home anymore. It’s Mollie, who refuses to ask her teacher for some extra help after school because she’s mad…and embarrassed. It’s Billy, who refuses to go to marriage counseling despite repeated pleas from his wife, because he doesn’t want to admit he has a problem. It’s Dion, the young mom who refuses to ask advice from her own mother about rearing her children because she doesn’t want to hear about how difficult she was as a child, or “back in her day” this is how it was done. It’s hard to watch people refuse help they so desperately need and that is so freely available. You feel this; I feel this. We want to help, we’re ready to help.
As difficult as these physical needs are, the even greater needs are in those who refuse to return to the Lord, their God. These friends and neighbors, sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, the people we know who so desperately need a word of loving repentance, the blessing of sins forgiven in the name of Jesus, a blessing that refreshes the promise of baptism, a word of hope for tomorrow. Perhaps they are embarrassed by the sins they think everyone knows about; maybe they are irritated that the church tried to lead them to repentance and they didn’t like that message; it could be that they disagreed with a decision and said ugly things about other people and now, they don’t know how to ask for forgiveness; it could be that someone said something that hurt them and pride refuses to accept an apology. It could be that they can’t accept that Jesus can forgive someone like him, or her, or you, or me. People, whose lives are in shambles, yet they refused to turn back to the only One who could forgive and renew and protect them.
Look closer…those faces you were just imagining, those people you were just naming, look closer at them and you might be surprised to see yourself among them. Let me be clear: it’s not that you’re refusing help from the Lord – after all, you’re sitting in the Lord’s House. But this is the season of Lent, and Lent has us look and consider our own place before God. Lent is a time to take a closer look at our lives as children of God. Even regular church-goers are not immune from resisting the One who longs to gather and protect them.
Let me ask you a couple of questions. I want you to think – don’t answer out loud. I’m going to ask a couple of honest questions about our openness to Jesus and the help He promises. In what ways are we resisting Jesus as He longs to gather us to Himself? From which parts of our lives are we refusing to receive His help?
Are you tempted to think we are not as obstinate as the people in Jerusalem, that we would never be so dense as to reject Jesus and His Word? That we would never refuse to be gathered by God?
And yet… each of us, in our own sinful way, resists the goodness and mercy of God. Sometimes, it’s refusing to listen to His Law that desires to correct our speech or our thoughts about others. Perhaps it trusting that you are a beloved child of God. Perhaps it’s believing that, in the midst of chaos and upheaval, or uncertainty and fear, that God will care for you as a hen cares for her chicks.
As a hen gathers her brood, our Lord Jesus has gathered us together as His people. Jesus said, “You will not see me until you say, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.” This was a direct prophecy of what would take place on Palm Sunday when he enters Jerusalem. It’s also a promise of what happens every Lord’s day in this Holy House. He gathers us beneath the cross to forgive us. He gathers us into a community to support and defend us. He gathers us together today at His table to feed us and to bless us with His protective love.
Jesus never stops gathering. He never stops drawing us to Himself. He is like a hen who never gives up on her chicks. He is our protector. Our provider. Our Savior—even from ourselves. Blessed are you who comes together in the name of the Lord. Amen.
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