Rising from the Ruin: Luke 13:31-35, Philippians 3:17-4:1 - Second Sunday in Lent

Philippians 3:17--4:1

¹⁷Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have in us. ¹⁸For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; I have often told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears. ¹⁹Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things. ²⁰But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. ²¹He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself. ^4:1Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved.

Gospel: Luke 13:31-35

³¹At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to [Jesus,] “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” ³²He said to them, “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 finish my work. ³³Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ ³⁴Jerusalem, 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! ³⁵See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’ ”

Ground Zero, New York City, Feb 27, 2003 Photo by author.

Thirteen years ago, almost to the day, I stood behind a chain-link fence surrounding the vast abyss that was known as Ground Zero, the site of the former World Trade Center towers in New York City. 

As powerful a feeling as it was to be in a place where so many innocent people lost their lives, I was captivated by a mural that spanned the entire face of a good-sized building.

Below a painting of the statue of liberty, with a heart-shaped American flag in the background, was a quote:

“The human spirit is not measured by the size of the act, but by the size of the heart.”

My thoughts immediately turned to the heroic acts of first responders, many who lost their lives on that fateful day.  But I also thought about all the ordinary citizens who donated blood, money, and simple acts of kindness.  For a brief time, we were drawn together as one people.  We even returned to our faith and filled our churches.

Today, the World Trade Center is rebuilt.  The mural is gone; and the compassion and community that flourished has largely faded.

As the War on Terror rages on, are we as a society more focused on killing our enemies—or taking care of our fellow human beings?

I can’t see there being a vast difference between our society and the society over which Jesus mourns in today’s Gospel…

For some time now, Jesus has been on a mission to enact the grace of God toward a suffering and sinful humanity.  He cast out demons and healed the sick; he welcomed sinners into God’s family.  He identified himself as among those who were of the least in their society, affirming that they mattered to God.  He spoke truth to the powers-that-be who accumulated wealth and prestige on the backs of the poor and vulnerable. 

He does this because he is the embodiment of God’s grace to humanity.  He comes to gather God’s children into himself.  But Jesus, in his grace, is rejected.  He knows that his obedience to God will cost him his life. 

So Jesus is here grieving over a city and a society that lay in absolute spiritual ruins. The guilt of Jerusalem is a guilt we all share in, whether we realize it or not.

As Paul writes, we make gods of our bellies…

For starters, we claim God’s gifts with a sense of entitlement.  We have what we have because we’re good, hard-working people.  We believe in God, we’re nice to others, and we’re more righteous than most. Therefore, nobody has the right to claim what is ours; yet we have the right to claim even more.

This is spiritual ruin…

What’s more is that life’s pressures and pains have a way of exacerbating spiritual ruin. Instead of seeking the grace of God in our time of need, we attempt to ease the pressure and pain through our bellies. 

We sell ourselves out to material things.  We drown our sorrows by indulging our appetites in whatever can bring us instant pleasures and great escapes.  We empty ourselves into the pursuit of achievement and success. We scramble and trample to lay hold of everything we can take that we think will make us happy.

An equally-powerful sign of spiritual ruin is our deliberate ignorance to the suffering of others.  A disaster’s not a disaster if it doesn’t affect us.  What’s worse is that we revel in others’ pain; we increase our self-worth by excluding and tearing down those we perceive as beneath us. 

In our spiritual ruin, we become enemies of the cross of Christ.  This happens when God’s grace is not enacted in how we live in relation to God or other people.

Lent is a season in which we all must own up to our spiritual ruin—and grieve for it. 

But thankfully, Jesus is bound and determined to claim you, and all your spiritual ruin, and transform you into the person God created you to be.  He is bound and determined to deliver you into the life God intended you to live.  He is bound and determined to recreate us as one body in himself. 

When there’s ruin, Jesus will give resurrection. 

With our sins forgiven and our lives reclaimed, we’re challenged rethink all of our  commitments in light of the cross.  What do you really want out of life?  What does happiness mean?  What do you rely upon when you’re feeling pressured, scared, and weary?  Where are you feeling pressure and pain?  What is holding you back from true discipleship? 

Ask these questions because Jesus is sending the Holy Spirit to where these pains, pressures, and longings exist in you.  Nonetheless, each and every one of us is being invited today into the security of God’s love.  As we continue on our journey through these forty days, may the power of our bellies give way to the power of the Holy Spirit.  May entitlement turn to humble gratitude.  May pain and worry give way to prayer and trust.  May we never hesitate to do something as silly as seeking refuge from life’s pressures and pains by giving ourselves away!