February 28, 2010
The Second Sunday in Lent

ON THE ROAD TO JERUSALEM
Luke 13:31-35

It must have been a frightened and bewildered little band that was making its way down the Jerusalem road. They had traveled together for many months, perhaps as long as three years, and to some of them, things appeared to be falling apart.

Their leader, who walked on ahead of them, seemed to them to be obsessed with strange and dangerous ideas. It had been so different before. Times had been easier in the early days. As they traveled about, they were welcomed almost everywhere they went, and their leader spoke of love and of a new Kingdom and of the lilies of the field.

But now, things had changed, were continuing to change, for the worse. Their leader was confronting powerful adversaries on an almost daily basis, debating weighty matters of law and ethics. His followers were sure he had been winning these debates, but he was dramatically alienating most of the religious leadership. Even the Pharisees, who had been his opponents in most of those debates, were warning him to flee the region, that Herod was after his head, as he had already taken John the Baptist’s.

And now, they were on the road to Jerusalem. They could understand Jesus’ desire to be in the holy city for the festival season, to attend the Passover services at the Temple and to share the meal of unleavened bread within the city gates. But frankly, such a trip was not advisable at this time. It was getting too dangerous. But Jesus didn’t seem to care. In fact, he even seemed to be expecting the danger! He mourned for the city, seeming to know that its reception of him would not be friendly, in the long run. Yes, things were really beginning to fall apart.

How would we have felt, if we had been a part of that little group? Would we have been walking bravely with Jesus, or would we have been hanging back fearfully with the disciples? Let’s defer answering that question for a few moments, and give ourselves the benefit of the doubt. We need to deal first with how Jesus may have been feeling on the Road to Jerusalem.

Jesus was well aware of the opposition which would greet him when he arrived. It had been building for some time. He knew that not all the questioners he had been encountering in Galilee had been sincere seekers of truth. Some of them had been sent by the authorities, with the intention of trapping him into saying something blasphemous or treasonous. He was heading toward Jerusalem with his eyes wide open.

But he was troubled. He must have been troubled by the thought that his ministry would soon end, when there was so much more he wanted to say and do. His disciples were small comfort. They still didn't get it, even at this late date. They were arguing over what their positions of prestige and power were going to be when Jesus took over the country. They thought of themselves as much braver than they were. They all forsook him and fled in the end.

Jesus was also troubled because there was no foolproof way of knowing that things were going as they were supposed to. Ever since his fast in the wilderness, he had felt certain of God’s will for him. But as the time for the ultimate test of obedience drew near, he was beset with questions. His tempter in the wilderness had left him, “until an opportune time,” and this seemed to be that time.

Jesus knew that there was confusion among the people about who he was and what his teaching meant. Some of them had tried to make him a king, and others had turned to him after the feeding of the multitude looking for more food, more miracles from the wonder-worker. Others hoped he would soon reveal his plans for a military takeover of the government. Would they ever understand?

The road to Jerusalem, the way of the cross, was a difficult time for Jesus and his followers. The difficulty of this journey is a part of the passion story that we tend to overlook. We remember the vivid stories Jesus told, but we forget that many people left his following because of the things he said. We remember Jesus’ apparent calm during the week preceding his death, but we think less about his agony in bidding his disciples good-bye in the upper room and in his prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane.

The road to Jerusalem, the way of the cross, can be a difficult road for us, too. It means different things for different ones of us, but it is always rough, and lonely, and there is often ridicule, and questioning, and self-recrimination.

Malcolm Boyd wrote about the way of the cross in this way:

They say that everyone has his own cross to bear, Lord,
And you once said, “Take up your cross and follow me.”
What do these things mean?
I think they mean that every person ultimately
has to face up to reality --
face his own destiny,
his own calling,
his own nature and responsibilities. . . .
The way of the cross was your understanding
of your mission
and your faithfulness to it.
The way of the cross seems to be,
for every individual Christian,
the reality which dictates his style of life,
defines his own mission,
and brings him into communion with you.
Help me to bear my cross of the way of the cross, Jesus.

Facing up to the reality of who we are, especially when we have tried to be someone or something else, can be a crucifying experience. Choosing to take upon yourself part of the burden of someone else’s pain or sorrow or anxiety, can also be a crucifying experience. These things are part of the road to Jerusalem, the way of the cross, for us.

It becomes easy for us to sentimentalize the cross. Even though we decorate it with flowers, or make it out of precious metal, or wear it as nothing more than a decoration, it remains a stern and brutal reality. It is still an indictment of humankind when we try, in reactionary defensiveness, to cut off from ourselves anyone or anything that would have us take a good, honest look at ourselves.

What is the road to Jerusalem, the way of the cross, for you? Are you aware of the company you keep as you are on it? Do you see the joy that is ahead, even in the midst of troubles and questions? The way of the cross is not an escape or a denial of reality. It is participation in reality at its deepest. For it is when we are willing to give of ourselves, even with all the doubts and unanswered questions, that we begin to become truly human. It’s when we walk the road to Jerusalem, on the way of the cross.