Do Not Be Afraid, Little Flock

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 27, 2016

Easter Day

When I was a child, Easter meant two things: New dresses and lots of chocolate.  The new dresses actually bore witness to something of the Easter message.  In my new dress, usually a white dress with blue trim to match my sister's white dress with red trim, I felt like a new little girl.  The dress might have been scratchy, and the hat  bit annoying, but dressed up in beautiful new clothes made me feel like all things were possible.  New clothes marked a new beginning of sorts, even for a 5 year old.  Lots of chocolate simply meant that I had been good enough for the Easter bunny to notice and bring chocolate instead of jelly beans.  I'm not sure that has a tie in to the Easter message.  In fact, since Easter has nothing to do with our being good, the chocolate simply bore witness to the fact that I was loved, which is, of course at the heart of the Easter message. Chocolate wins, again!

This morning, the women are probably not dressed in their finest clothes as they make their way to the tomb to anoint the dead body of Jesus.  They are probably not feeling particularly loved that morning, nor are they thinking about new beginnings as they make their way to the tomb of their friend.  My guess is that they are tired, grieving, confused, and determined to do the sad work they have been given to do.  And when they arrive at the tomb and find the stone removed and two men in dazzling clothes there to greet them, they are terrified.

Terrified.  While the men in dazzling clothes do not say to the women "Do not be afraid," the men do ask the women why they look for the living among the dead.  The implication of the message is that the women should not be afraid.  From the very beginning of Luke's gospel, faithful people are told not to be afraid.  When the angel appears to Mary to announce to her that she will bear the Son of God, the angel says "Do not be afraid."  When the angel of the Lord appears to the shepherds in the field, and the glory of the Lord shines around them, they are terrified.  The angel says to them "Do not be afraid" and then tells them the good news of the birth of the savior.  When Jesus is told that the daughter of Jairus has died, Jesus says "Do not fear, only believe and she will be saved." In a section of Luke's gospel that confronts the persecution many of Luke's original readers were facing, Jesus says "Do not fear those who kill the body and can do nothing more....Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?  Yet not one of them is forgotten in God's sight...do not be afraid, you are of more value than many sparrows."  And finally, in that same section of the gospel, written to people who were very afraid for their lives, Jesus says "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

So we come to the story of the empty tomb this morning and the story that began with the angel's words to Mary "Do not be afraid" ends with similar words.  We meet the women, who have already swallowed a large amount of fear just to show up with spices to anoint Jesus' body.  But when they find the stone moved, Jesus' body gone, and two men in dazzling clothes, their resolve melts and they are terrified.  As most of us do when we are terrified, they forget everything Jesus ever said about not being afraid, or anything else he ever said, for that matter.  But the two men gently remind them: "Why do you look for the living among the dead? Remember how Jesus told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again?"  Now the women remember, their fear is turned to joy and they return to tell the disciples what they have seen and heard.

When the women left the tomb to tell the disciples what two men at the tomb had said, the women had no idea what would happen next in their lives.  They had no idea how their lives would be changed by the empty tomb and they really had no idea what the resurrection means.  Easter morning pulled them into a new and uncharted future.  They were pulled into the new thing God was doing, but Easter morning did not give them a road map for the journey.  On Easter, we, too, find the stone rolled away and the tomb empty.  We, too, hear the words of the men in dazzling clothes that tell us Jesus has died and has risen.  And we, too, are pulled into a new future, into a new thing that God is doing.  But we do not get a road map, either.  Like the women, the eleven, and all the rest, Easter calls us to walk boldly into the future as resurrection people, not bound by the limits of a road map, but following the Risen Christ who will take us places we cannot begin to imagine.  In a world where Christ is risen, all things really are possible!

Amen.

The Powers of Darkness

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 25, 2016

Good Friday

Tuesday morning I received a text message from a friend whose son had spent his junior year of high school in Brussels just two years ago.  The son had flown in and out of the Brussels airport a number of times that year and had gone through the Maalbeek subway station multiple times a day.  On the one hand, everyone his son knew in Brussels was safe.  On the other hand, the powers of darkness had struck once again, and shockingly close to home.

Tonight, we heard John's account of the passion of Jesus.  Near the beginning of John's gospel, we hear the words "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."  On this Good Friday, as we wait and watch with the dead body of Jesus, as we live in a world where terrorists, violence, fear and suspicion, seem to win way more often than not, how are we to live as followers of Christ and bear witness to the story in which the light ultimately triumphs?

I am sometimes asked what it means it means to be a Christian.  While being a Christian does mean patterning our lives after the life of Jesus, that is not the primary meaning.  There are many great people after whom we can pattern our lives.  Being a Christian is fundamentally different from simply trying to live like someone we admire.  At the most primary level, being a Christian means that I am not defined by the sum total of my successes or my failures, or my successes minus my failures.  I am not defined by the powers of darkness around me, nor by fear, or hate.  As Christians, we are defined by the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Our baptismal liturgy tells us that, in baptism, we are joined with Christ in his death and resurrection.  We are people who follow a crucified and risen Lord.  On Good Friday, our liturgy makes that very clear to us.  Even on Good Friday, our liturgy holds together death and resurrection.  Listen to the words we will say in a few minutes: "We glory in your cross, O Lord, and praise and glorify your holy resurrection; for by virtue of your cross, joy has come into the world."  On this holy and somber night, when the powers of death and hell have taken their best shot, we hold fast to the belief that the darkness cannot overcome the light.  The death of Jesus is real.  When Jesus gave up his spirit, he gave up his spirit.  Evil is named, not denied.  But even on Good Friday as we stand before the cross and witness the power of evil at work, and the pain and horror evil causes, we praise and glorify the resurrection.

On Good Friday, Jesus gave himself over to the powers of darkness so we can live as the people God calls us to be.  Good Friday calls us to live as people who can look evil in the eye without living in the shadow of fear or denying the reality of evil.   Good Friday calls us to live as people of the light and not be suspicious of anyone different from ourselves.  Good Friday calls us to embrace the hope that brings us together rather than the fear that divides.  In John's gospel, Jesus also said "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself."  Our very identity as Christians is to live as people who have been claimed by the crucifixion and resurrection of the One who died this night to draw all the world to himself.  

Amen.

Remember God's Promise

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 20, 2016

Palm Sunday C

Some mornings when I walk into the church, I can still feel the energy in the building from a particularly joyful event the day before.  Sometimes when I walk in the building, I can simply smell the lasagna that was baked the night before.  But many times I have walked into this space and felt the energy from a worship service or a concert or an outreach ministry that was particularly Spirit filled.  The stones that make up this building have absorbed the prayers of the faithful people who have worshiped here for about 140 years.  The stones have witnessed our vows, held our joy and our sorrow, and try as we might, they have not budged even with the most joyful of song.  I wonder if this is what Jesus meant about the stones when he said to the Pharisees, who wanted Jesus followers to halt their joyful song, "If these were silent, the very stones would shout out."

The story of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem is basically the same in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, but Luke's version of the story is my favorite. Jesus sends two disciples into the village to find a colt that has never been ridden.  If anyone asks why the disciples are taking the colt, they are to say "The Lord needs it."  All goes according to plan and Jesus enters Jerusalem on the back of the colt, with people singing.  There are, by the way, no palms or leafy branches in Luke's version of the story.  Matthew gives us leafy branches.  Mark and John give us palms.  Luke simply gives us a picture of people spreading cloaks along the path.  Luke is my favorite, in part, because we can all spread what we have before Jesus.  But the real reason Luke tells my favorite version of the entry into Jerusalem is because of  the stones.

The Hebrew Scriptures are filled with images of stones that would have come to mind for the Pharisees, who were well versed in Scripture, when they heard Jesus' words .  First, stones are a sign of an experience of God.  In the book of Genesis (28), Jacob takes a stone for a pillow and dreams about angels ascending and descending on a ladder.  In that dream, God says to Jacob "I am the Lord, the God of Abraham and Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the east and to the west, to the north and to the south."  Then God says "Know that I am with you and will keep you where ever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised."  Jacob recognized that God was in that place, and set up the stone as a pillar, and poured oil over the stone to be a house for God, and Jacob promises to return to God one tenth of all he was given. In a perhaps more familiar story, there is the stone that the young and small David used to kill the giant, Goliath, which was also a sign of God's presence with David.

Stones are also signs of the covenant relationship with God.  At the end of the book of Joshua (24:27), after the Hebrew people have entered the Promised Land, a large stone is the sign of the people's promise to serve God and God alone.  Stones in the Hebrew Scriptures can also reflect the emotion of God.  The prophet Habakkuk (2:11) tells the people that if they go astray from God, "the very stones of the temple will cry out from the wall and the plaster will cry out from the woodwork."

So, in the Hebrew Scriptures, stones are a symbol of blessing and the presence of God.  On the other hand, we cannot ignore the fact that stoning was also a form of capital punishment in the Old Testament.  According to the laws of the Old Testament, offenses such as adultery, breaking Sabbath, or even rebelling against one's parents are crimes punishable by stoning.  The reality is that stoning according to the law, as opposed to mob violence, is quite rare in the Old Testament. The Law might allow for stoning, but the practice of stoning rarely happened and was highly regulated.  But, at least in theory if not often in practice, stoning was considered to reflect the judgement of God.

So, with all of these images swirling around in their heads, what would the people have thought when Jesus said "I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would shout out?"

Perhaps the people would have heard God's promise to Jacob that God would be with Jacob and his descendants where ever they go.  Perhaps they would have been reminded of the holiness of their covenant with God and the consequences of breaking that covenant.  The stones were not mere inanimate objects holding the path together.  The stones were signs of the presence of God in their midst, and Jesus reminds the people that the stones would keep the covenant with God even if the people did not.

And so, on Palm Sunday as we sing the hosannas and process the palms with great and genuine joy, then move abruptly from that joy to the depths of the Passion gospel, we, too, are called to remember God's promise to be with us always.  We are called to remember that promise as we begin our journey with Jesus to the events of his last supper with the disciples, his arrest and trial, and his crucifixion.  We are called to watch for God's presence among us as the dead body of Jesus is placed in a tomb which is sealed with nothing other than a stone. And  we are called to prepare for that moment when the women arrive at the tomb on Easter morning, and the stone has been replaced by the Risen Christ.

Amen.

Remember and Watch

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 13, 2016

5 Lent C

Many years ago, in 2001, I think, a group of people at Christ Church came together to plan our first neighborhood fair.  We wanted to engage our neighborhood in a way that was fun for the neighbors and would help us begin to build relationships.  The goal was huge.  We needed enough people, food, games, prizes and entertainment to serve around 200 people.  Now, 15 Neighborhood Fairs later, we are known in the neighborhood as the church with the street fair. But the Fair is still a huge undertaking as the Fair has grown and changed over the years and each year we still wonder if we will have enough people, enough food, enough energy, and somehow, we always do.

In 2009, we were approached by the Dayton Gay Men's Chorus about hosing their Christmas concert as their first ever concert outside of Dayton.  We could not host in 2009 because we had two conflicts with the date they needed.  First, we were celebrating our 175th anniversary, another glorious event that involved the whole congregation and took lots of planning.  Secondly, we were getting ready to tear the roof off this building and put on a new slate roof, another huge undertaking in the midst of the recession.  But the vestry took a leap of faith and committed to hosting the Chorus in 2010 and set about preparing the congregation for that event.  Many, many people stepped forward to help, and rather than tear us apart, which is what people outside of this congregation warned me would happen, hosting the Dayton Gay Men's Chorus brought us more closely together as we welcomed people into this space for an evening that was electric with energy and with the gratitude of many people who told me that night that they had never felt welcome in a church before.

Last story-although I could tell you dozens more.  In 2010, I was invited to be part of an effort to bring Reading Camp to the Diocese of Southern Ohio.  The plan was to host an overnight camp at Procter, which we did, then have spin-offs in local congregations the next summer.  We held the camp at Procter and children from Horace Mann Elementary attended. But Christ Church was the only parish to move forward with hosting our own reading camp, and I was told quite pointedly that one congregation could not host a Reading Camp on their own.  Challenge accepted! The whole parish helped in one way or another, whether by planning the curriculum and teaching, or shopping for supplies, or leading field trips, or making meals and snacks, or providing funds, or decorating, or praying for us, or any of the countless things that were needed for a successful reading camp.  And Reading Camp did happen.  The children had an amazing week where they learned to love reading, their reading scores improved, and they had a fabulous time.  We had a fabulous, if exhausting time, as we pulled together as the body of Christ and experienced the Spirit working among us so we could do something far greater than one could reasonably expect.

In our reading from Isaiah this morning, we hear God say something very confusing.  God says "Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old."  What on earth does God mean by that?  Are we to forget all that God has done for us in the past and focus only on what new thing God might do in the future?  I think to forget the past would actually be a misreading of this passage.  The passage begins by recalling the past. "Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick." That is a clear reference to the Exodus, which the Hebrew people remember and God recalls over and over again in the Hebrew scriptures.  The people hold on to the story of the Exodus because the story reminds them of the powerful way God acted in the past.  In the Psalm, the people remember when God restored the fortunes of Zion so that they have hope that their fortunes will be restored as they sit in exile in Babylon.  Does God really want the people to forget all that God has done for them?

The short answer is "No."  God does not want the people to forget what God has done for them.  But God does not want the people to hold on so tightly to the stories of the past that they do not see what God is doing in the present.  God does not want any of us to hold onto the past and think that however God acted then is the only way God acts.  God is always about to do a new thing, and God calls us to remember the past so that we can see what God is doing in the present.  Remember the Exodus so that God's action in the present can be known.  Remember the Fair, or the Dayton Gay Men's Chorus, or our 175th anniversary, or Reading Camp, or the new roof, not because that is the only way God has acted among us, but so that we can see what new thing God is doing in our midst.

When Mary anoints Jesus' feet with a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, Judas objects because her action is not practical.  Judas cannot see that God could be acting through Mary's action to point to the new thing God will soon do in their midst. Mary has no idea that her tender care of Jesus will point to the new thing God is about to do.  When Jesus says "You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me," he sounds rather self absorbed.  Judas comes off as the one concerned about the poor, which, we are told, is a far cry from the truth. Jesus is not self-absorbed and he is not saying that serving the poor is a bad thing. What Jesus is saying is that we also have to open our eyes to see what new thing God is doing in our midst.    Mary's action in anointing Jesus' feet is bold, loving, and costly.  God calls us to be bold, loving, and stretch ourselves when the world sometimes tells us to be practical and safe.   God calls us to remember the stories of our past so we can see what new thing God is doing in our midst, today.

Amen.

Broken No More

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 6, 2016

4 Lent C

Several weeks ago, our younger son Caldwell was home from upstate New York for the weekend.  Slocomb, our older son, and his wife Leslie were free that Saturday night so we all met at a restaurant part way between Springfield and Cincinnati where Slocomb and Leslie live.  We had a lovely dinner, good conversation, heard stories from the past and plans for the future, did lots of laughing, and just enjoyed each other's company.  When the children were small, no one told me how much fun grown children would be, nor did they tell me how rarely we would all be together.  While neither of my sons are prodigal or lost, as a mother of two sons I can certainly relate to the father's absolute joy in Jesus' parable when his younger son returns home.  I am a happy mama when we can all be around a table together.  In the case of Jesus' parable, what was lost has been found, and the father now has his two sons home with him.  In my case, those who have simply been separated by distance were together again.  In both cases, there was great joy and deep gratitude at the reunion.

While I am the mother of two sons, I am also an oldest child with two younger siblings.  The oldest child in me does not like our parable this morning nearly as much as the mother in me does.  I understand the fury of the older son when the younger son squanders his entire inheritance in dissolute living, returns home in shame, only to have a great banquet thrown for him either as if nothing had ever happen, or worse, in spite of everything that happened.  Seriously?  What is the father thinking???  As an oldest child, I am a bit skeptical of the whole idea that the younger son actually repented of his errant ways.  In the parable, the younger son comes to his senses, not because he realizes he has done wrong and repented, but because he is famished.  He is trying to find a way to avoid starvation when he says "'How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands."  The son just wants some food!

While my skepticism that repentance is involved in the younger son's return may be my inner  eldest child speaking, I also believe that Jesus' original audience would have been suspicious of the idea that the younger son actually repented.*  Jesus' hearers were steeped in the stories of Genesis and Exodus.  When the younger son says "I will get up and go to my father and I will say to him ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you," Jesus' audience was reminded of another story.  They would likely have remembered similar words from the story of the Exodus. After the Egyptians experience the plague of blood, the plague of frogs, the plague of gnats, the plague of flies, the plague on all the Egyptian livestock, the plague of boils, and the plague of thunder and hail, Pharaoh says "This time I have sinned; the Lord is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong. Pray to the Lord! Enough of God's thunder and hail! I will let you go; you need stay no longer."  Has Pharaoh repented or does he simply want Moses to call off the plaques?  My guess is the later, since his heart is then hardened and he will not let the Hebrew people leave Egypt after all.

Our parable this morning is the last in a set of three parables in Luke's gospel about the lost being found.  In the parable of the lost sheep, the shepherd leaves 99 sheep in the wilderness to go looking for the one who is found, which seems like rather poor judgement in my opinion, since he could return to find 99 sheep missing. But the parable has a happy ending as the shepherd finds the lost sheep, and his 100 sheep are back together.  The shepherd says "Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost." What was broken is now whole.  In the parable of the lost coin, the woman takes her house apart to find the one of her 10 silver coins that is missing.  When she finds the coin, she calls her friends and says  "Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost."  Neither a coin nor a sheep are capable of repentance, so these parable are about the lost being found, not repentance.  And what does the father say to the servants when his younger son returns? "Let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!"   And what does the father say when his eldest son objects to all the frivolity over the return of his younger brother? "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found."  There is no mention of repentance.  But there is abundant evidence oft  joy when the lost is found.

As a priest, I am duty-bound to tell you that repentance is a good thing, and that the season of Lent calls us to that discipline.  But this parable is not about repentance.  This parable is about God's overwhelming gratitude and joy when the lost is found and the broken is made whole.  What is broken is not just the individual person, or the lost sheep or coin.  What is broken when something or someone is missing is the whole body.

This parable calls us to the disciple of gratitude.  We don't know how either of the sons in the parable responded to their father's joy.  We don't know if the younger son mended his ways or whether the older son came around to rejoicing that his brother was home.  We just don't know.  What we do know is that the father rejoiced that the lost was found. I believe that the father's deep desire is that both sons will be transformed by his gratitude that they are all together again.  God's hope for us is that we, too, are transformed by the knowledge of God's great delight and deep gratitude when the lost are found and the broken is made whole, because we have all come home.  
Amen.

*My thanks to Amy-Jill Levine for this idea about Pharaoh and the younger son's "repentance."  http://www.christiancentury.org/article/2014-08/parable-and-its-baggage

"No"

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
February 28, 2016

3 Lent C

Last April 25, a massive earthquake struck Nepal, killing over 8800 people and leaving hundreds of thousands of people homeless.  Do you think that because these people suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than other people?  Last December, 14 people lost their lives in a shooting at a Christmas party in San Bernadino.  Do you think that because these people suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than other people?  And just this week, seven people were killed when tornadoes ripped through the southeast United States.  Do you think that because these people suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than other people?

Jesus is asked these very questions this morning when he is approached by some people who tell him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices.  Jesus himself raises the issue of the 18 people who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them.  While there is no historical evidence that either of these events actually occurred, nonetheless they raise the issue of why bad things happen to good people, which is a very common question.  In fact, Jesus assumes that is the people's question.  "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than everyone else?"  Jesus' answer to his own question is a bit unsettling.  "No, I tell you, but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."

If Jesus has just stopped with "No, I tell you," that would have been an incomplete, but satisfactory answer.  While the answer would not tell us why bad things happen to innocent people, at least we would know that the sin of the victims was not responsible for the disaster.  But Jesus does not stop there.  He goes on to say "but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."  How do those ominous words answer the question of who is to blame for such disasters?

To further complicate matters, Jesus then tells the people a parable about a fig tree that does not produce fruit.  The absentee owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down.  Land is precious, and should not be wasted on trees that do not produce.  But the gardener wants to fertilize the tree and give it one more chance to grow and produce fruit.  What does the fig tree have to do with the people's perceived question about whether the Galileans suffered because they were worse sinners than anyone else?  Will God really chop us down if we do not produce the fruit we are called to bear?

Jesus' talk about repenting, perishing and cutting down fig trees is harsh.  But what happens if we hear the gospel reading through the lens of the reading from Exodus?  In that story, Moses is beyond the wilderness when he encounters God in a burning bush. What does God say to Moses?  God does not say "See the suffering of my people in Egypt?  Such suffering is punishment for their sins."  No, God says "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey."  God has heard the cries of those who suffer and has compassion on them.  God is going to bring them to a land flowing with milk and honey.  Does this sound like a God who would cause towers to fall on people, or earthquakes to destroy their lives?

When we hear the parable of the fig tree through the lens of the story from Exodus, we hear not judgement but compassion and second chances.  The fig tree was not cut down after one year of bearing no fruit, nor after two years.  Only after three years, was cutting down the tree even being considered.  Who would have held out hope for three years that a barren tree would all of a sudden start producing fruit? Even then, the gardener wants to dig around it and give it more fertilizer, giving the tree every possible chance to produce.  The Hebrew Scriptures are full of images of God as the gardener-from Genesis 2 where God plants a garden in Eden, to references to God planting the Hebrew people in the Promised land in the book of Exodus, God is often the One doing the gardening. The God who heard the cries of the people in Egypt and led them through the wilderness and into the land of milk and honey is a God who tries and tries to get us to bear fruit, who, when others would completely give up,  provides more nurture and more fertilizer before finally calling a dead tree and dead tree.

Jesus' one word answer to the question of whether the victims of such tragedies are worse sinners that others is the word "no."  Our God is a god of grace and mercy whose desire for us is a land of milk and honey.  Lent begins on Ash Wednesday with the clear message that life is short and fragile as we are anointed with ashes and the words "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."  Jesus' call to repent is the call to make right our relationship with God and our relationships with other people and not procrastinate in doing so. The parable of the fig tree tells us that God provides us with nurture and care to help us bear the fruit we are called to bear.  When taken together, Jesus calls us to repent of those things that prevent us from being nurtured and bearing fruit and to believe in the God who calls us to fullness of life.

Amen.

A Steel Cut Oats Kind of God

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
February 21, 2016

2 Lent C

In our pantry at home, we have several different kinds of oats.  We have steel cut oats, which take about 30 minutes to cook, which seems like forever in the morning.  So, steel cut oats rarely happen.  Then we have Old Fashioned oats.  We like the thicker, less processed kind, so they take about 10 minutes to cook.  Sometimes we have quick oats, which require bringing water to a boil and cooking for one minute.  The only reason we ever have those is because I have a great chocolate cookie recipe that calls for quick oats.  Then, in the embarrassingly lazy department, I actually have some frozen oatmeal from Trader Joe for our son Caldwell when he is home.  That oatmeal just has to be microwaved.  If I look on the grocery store shelves, I can find all kinds of oatmeal bars that supposedly pack all the goodness of oats into a foil packet I could eat on the run, or single serve containers of oats so that I don't have to involve a bowl in my morning instant oat ritual, but can pour the hot water right into the container.  There are any number of shortcuts to a healthy breakfast in the cereal aisle.

While I am picking on oats, I am sure any of us could come up with countless examples of offers for immediate relief from whatever we want or need: instant meals, overnight delivery, shortcuts for cleaning, instant messaging, or 24 hour access to our money, all of which reflect our desire for a shortcut to whatever we might need.

The Pharisees offer Jesus a short cut this morning.  The Pharisees say to Jesus "Get away from here for Herod wants to kill you."  Whether or not the Pharisees are genuine in their concern for Jesus is a matter of debate.  While the Pharisees are usually portrayed in the gospels as enemies of Jesus, in Luke's gospel they are portrayed with more sympathy. Whether or not the Pharisees are actually concerned about Jesus, Herod probably does want to see Jesus dead.  Herod has already beheaded John the Baptist, and when Herod hears about Jesus' ministry, he is perplexed and wants to see Jesus.  Herod could be merely curious, in theory, but more likely his motive is sinister.  In all fairness, at the end of the gospel, when Herod does get to meet Jesus, Herod will find him innocent.  For now, however, the Pharisees warn Jesus to get out before Herod gets him.

Abram would also like a shortcut this morning.  Abram would like a shortcut to acquiring an heir.   At the moment, a slave born in Abram's household will likely be Abram's heir.  Back in chapter 12 of Genesis, three chapters ago, God promised Abram land and descendants.  Over the following three chapters and countless miles, God has repeated the promise several times.  Thus far, nothing has happened. Abram and Sarah are getting older.  The promise is rather preposterous.  Abram is getting a bit impatient and no doubt a little weary, to say nothing of older. So Abram asks God for a sign.  God complies with what seems to us a very bizarre ritual involving a heifer, a female goat, and a ram, all three years old, a turtle dove and a young pigeon, which are sacrificed.  Then Abram falls into a deep and terrifying sleep.  Strange though this ritual may seem to our 21st century ears, this acts seals the covenant between God and Abram, and Abram trusts that somehow, in God's good time, he will have land and descendants.

For Jesus, also, there are no shortcuts.  Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem and he has places to go and things to do along the way.  Indeed, Jesus has just told the disciples, in the verse immediately before our gospel lesson begins, that "Some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last."  Herod would be in the second category and Jesus has no time for him.  "Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I must 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 outside Jerusalem.'"  Jesus sounds like someone with a calendar to keep.  He has today, tomorrow, and the third day all planned out.  If we have been listening carefully to Luke's gospel, we hear echoes of Jesus' passion prediction in chapter 9: "The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised." Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, and the only twists and turns he will allow on the way are the work he has been given to do: casting out demons and performing cures.  As Jesus moves toward the end of his earthly ministry, he seeks no distractions from this work and no relief from the events that await him in Jerusalem.

Lent is our journey to Jerusalem with Jesus.  We remember the voice of God that claimed Jesus at his baptism and again at the Transfiguration with the words "This is my Son, my chosen one."  We remember when Jesus read from the prophet Isaiah in the synagogue: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.'" And then we heard Jesus say "Today, these words have been fulfilled in your hearing."    We remember all miracles Jesus has done.  And we are tempted to say with the Pharisees "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you."  We would rather Jesus avoid the pain and suffering he will endure.  The reality is that we all have times in our lives when we are on a journey to Jerusalem and we would rather avoid the suffering as well.  We want a short cut to health, or happiness, or healed relationships, or to the end of whatever our challenge might be.  Our readings this morning remind us that our God is not an instant oatmeal kind of God.  Our God is with us for the long haul, more of a steel cut oats kind of God, and while there are often no short cuts to our destination or quick fixes for our problems, we do not travel alone.  The same Jesus who assured the Pharisees that he would be casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, walks with us in our todays and tomorrows.  And the same Jesus who pointed to the resurrection with the words "and on the third day I finish my work" reminds us that no matter how long or dark our path may be, the journey to Jerusalem is ultimately a journey in which death is overcome and life has the final word.  The promise of Lent, and the journey to Jerusalem, is not a quick fix.  The promise of Lent is that we are not alone, and life, not death, will have the final say.

Amen.