Stupidity–doing the same thing twice while expecting different results–we all know that definition, even as we succumb to its allure.
Naturally it’s easier to recognize stupidity in someone else, so let’s start there. We all know people who have to learn things the hard way, and, of course it’s not funny when that hard way means self-destructive choices. We may have one or two people like this in our lives; Jesus has a whole city to worry about.
Jerusalem, the holy city–that’s what it would be to Jesus and all the people he would know. This is where you would go when God was on your mind. In Jerusalem you would find the wise people, those who studied and knew the scriptures. That’s where the leaders of the faith were, and, of course, all the ceremonies and rituals that brought the mystery of God into the reality of the world. But Jesus knows another side to that holy identity. The truth he names about Jerusalem has also been present for centuries, but it isn’t so holy. We might call this side Jerusalem’s murderous stupidity, for when brought face to face with someone who speaks in the name of God, those holy people of Jerusalem, so wise and knowledgeable in the ways of of God, reject that message violently. So it has always been, Jesus says. This, he prophesies, will be his own future.
Why is this so inevitable? Perhaps it is because Jesus, like all the other prophets before him brings a message of challenge and change, and no one likes to be challenged and changed. But more than change, the prophets bring a word of power. The one thing Jerusalem, with all its ceremonies and rituals, is not prepared for is an untamed God, one who might talk to anyone, giving guidance and purpose to just anybody. Jerusalem can’t stand for that.
Of course it doesn’t have to be this way. We also have Abram’s (or Abraham’s) example in our scripture today. To bring you up on his story, Abraham was called by God to leave the city of his family and become a nomad, trusting God’s promise to make of him a great nation. As our story begins, God is basically reiterating this promise. Abram finds that talk, even divine talk is cheap, because while he is out living as a nomad, he hasn’t seen any of these promises come true. In fact, as he points out, he’s even hedging his bets, having written his will to include an heir who is not even a relative. God’s response is to repeat these promises, using a bloody and bizarre ceremony that means nothing to us but everything to Abraham. Nothing really changes. There is still no heir, no rundown on God’s mysterious sense of timing. But somehow for Abraham it’s all OK. For Abraham, walking by faith is apparently better than not walking at all.
So what does Abraham see that Jerusalem misses? Jesus wants to offer Jerusalem an invitation to belong. He wants to give the holy city a message of reassurance and protection. Actually he just wants to gather them all and hug them, but all they can hear is a threat. Jerusalem will be left empty because emptiness is their choice and God’s Spirit will be moving another way.
What does all this mean to us? We’d want to be faithful and adventurous like Abraham, not stupid and empty like Jerusalem, but, as I said, stupidity can be hard to recognize. Lent is set up for us to be reflective and figure out our motives, so here’s our experiment for this week: Find the places where you are needlessly suffering.
There is pain that leads to life–that’s the path that Jesus chooses, knowing that he will die in Jerusalem and going there anyway, not because he wants to suffer, but because that is the only way to life. That’s not the pain we are looking for this week. We are looking for the places where we have chosen pain, but not out of faith. It has to do with the stories we tell ourselves, the ones we replay in our minds. We might be remembering anxieties or resentments, for example. We replay these stories, but remembering changes nothing. We tell ourselves stories of limitations or loneliness, emptiness, boredom, even fear. Like the people of Jerusalem we choose emptiness.
Jesus longs to give us another story, the story of our true identity. Jesus offers us the embrace of his community, inviting us as God’s beloved creation to know inspiration and direction, but those stories of death get in the way. As Christ’s people, baptized, redeemed, even holy, we are called to this identity of life. What gets in the way of your response? The answers to that question are what we need to nail (or pin, actually) to the cross this Sunday.
One Response
Great sermon! I’ve also heard that saying put another way: The definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over, expecting different results. As humans we will always have expectations and fears, which at times causes us to make stupid choices. The words of Christ teach us how to change our thinking and behavior when we recognize this in ourselves. Self-discovery necessitates looking back at our past – as long as we don’t stare (I read this somewhere). I learned that we don’t need to become “our stories” because they keep us immobilized in the past, but we can become aware of what our expectations (originating from fear) are and learn to let go of them (sometimes not so easy). Years ago, someone told me to try this: Take a small stone and write the word “Fear” on one side, and the word “Faith” on the other. When I was in discomfort I put the stone in my pocket to remind me that my faith can turn my fears over to God. Simple, but very effective for me, realizing that I couldn’t experience faith and fear at the same time.