“Jerusalem, 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!” (Matthew 23:37)
The imagery is historically apt, a fitting cry for Christ to have uttered over the holy city of his people. He has enumerated its habits of rejecting all who come to it from God but instead of raining down curses he laments.
It applies as well to us—the unaware, the inattentive, the defensive, the close-hearted, the hostile—in our responses to God’s approach. How often does God come to us each day and we turn away from the divine presence? How often do God’s messengers come with saving words of judgment and healing only to be met with all the reasons we are right and they are wrong, we are just and they are ignorant, we are holy and they are fools? Do we do worse than spurn them? Do we lash out, attack, turn angry and violent?
And what of God’s little ones: the poor, the downtrodden, the forgotten, the beggars, the street crazies, the homeless vets, the lost children, the neglected or abused, those wandering in confusion or trapped in addictions, the broken and hopeless, the cast off? How often has Christ come to us in them and we have studiously ignored them, been blind to their plight and deaf to their cries, blamed them for their misfortunes?
Advent—the coming, the approach, the presence of God in our midst. We pray for it, we long for it, we yearn for it, we wait for it and then, when it comes, we ignore it or reject it.
Meanwhile, we who have turned our back on God, who have attacked God’s messengers, who ignore God’s little ones or, worse, beat them down further—we are wept over by Christ himself. We, the hardened and scornful, the unjust and unmerciful, are the object of God’s love, the subject of God’s tears, the cherished of God’s heart. And the heart of God breaks for us.
We think we are the city on the hill, a beacon for all, when in fact we are a city forsaken, a city from which life and love have fled, a heartless city. The angels, messengers and prophets, sages and teachers all rise up to name our crimes. The scorned and oppressed, neglected and abused rise up to accuse us. And Christ to whom all judgment is committed… laments.
Where we look for judgment, mercy. Where we have no right to expect anything but divine justice we find only a broken heart, a heart broken with love.
When friends forsake us and flee—and why shouldn’t they if this is how we behave?—and enemies surround us on every side, then the psalmist’s words come clear:
Blessed be the LORD! for he has shown me the wonders of his love in a besieged city. (Psalm 31:21)
Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
--the BB
2 comments:
Paul, this is so beautiful. You put my poor efforts to shame. I may never post again.
The readings gave us more than one tongue-lashing today, didn't they?
Mimi, don't you dare start slacking. I rely on you, enjoy your postings, and look forward to your blog every day (I actually check in several times a day). I need my grandmotherly rock to lean on (and I know you could be my sister but not my grandmother, but you know what I mean).
Fortunately, I know you indulge in irony. But no more of such silly talk.
Seriously, thank you. I love writing (well, that's bloody obvious) and I was a Baptist preacher.... (Pastor Ross's wife, Sister Ross, says I still am a Baptist and that is the highest compliment that lady could give me).
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