(2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14; Ps. 77:1-2, 11-20; Galatians 5:1, 13-25; Luke 9:51-62)
This morning I’m going to share with you something I brought home with me from the ECCT pilgrimage to the Holy Land. And it was a pilgrimage: that’s the way our bishops conceived it from the start, over a year ago. It was not a sight-seeing tour, it was not a vacation. We had fun, but it was overwhelmingly a time of focus, and concentrated attention; thanks to the leadership of Bishop Ian and Bishop Laura, who were both with us, and to our guide, a Palestinian Christian named Iyad. We began our days at 7 – except the three days we started at or before dawn – we joined for prayer after breakfast; from then until lunch we were on the go exploring something from the life of Jesus, then the same in the afternoon; a few days there’d be an hour or two of free time before dinner; there was almost always a speaker after dinner, by which time most of us were running on fumes; and we’d close the day with prayer. It was a very full schedule, but I’m quite sure that, to a person, we wouldn’t have had it any other way: it was a gift, and we loved every minute of it.
So here’s what I brought home, and I’m showing it to you this morning because it relates to something in the gospel reading we just heard. This is an icon. Over the past year or so I’ve been learning a little bit about icons, and about the spirituality around them. Icons are flat pictures, usually painted on wood, usually depicting Christ, or Mary, or one of the saints. They’re very common in the Eastern church, used in prayer and meditation. During one of our free periods in Jerusalem I bought one, at a little store which was just up the street from where we were staying and had been recommended by our guide Iyad,. It’s a painting of Christ as the Good Shepherd. I looked at a number of different icons; but as I was considering which to buy, and talking with the man who owned the store, a Palestinian Christian in his 70’s, at one point he said to me: Before you buy it, you have to love it.
And I saw there was one I did love. In this picture, I could see a relaxation to the way Jesus’ arms look as he holds on to the lamb; which reminded me strongly of how I always felt holding on to my kids’ ankles when they rode on my shoulders. You can see how naturally his arms hang; what effort he’s expending (which isn’t a lot) is in his hands, in the grip (I remember that too.) And in some way, you get the impression that the lamb is grounding him, providing stability for him: because there’s a relationship here, of love and devoted service. I remember that feeling too, from carrying my kids that way. (I miss it.)
But of course what’s most immediately striking about the picture is Jesus’ gaze – you could call it a stare – directly at the viewer. This is common to most icons that I’ve seen. Jesus looks somber, even stern. And the Western response – accustomed as we are to saintly depictions of Jesus, full of love and joy and fulfillment (which is not wrong) – is instinctively wary: is Jesus scolding me? Right from the get-go? Why? What have I done?
Now, I’m certainly no expert on icons. But having been around icons a little, and trusting the fact that for centuries the Eastern church has used them as a regular part of spiritual practice, I see something else. I see Christ looking at me and saying, I’m talking to you here. Yes, you. What do you see in this picture? What it does it say about yourlife? And what are you going to do about it? I’m offering you a step into larger life: a step into the kingdom of God. Just be aware that following me is at some point going to mean leaving what’s familiar to you: at some point, taking you away from your happy place. But you can be sure that whatever discomfort you might feel is nothing compared to what you will receive.
And this is where it relates to today’s gospel story.
Today’s passage, from Luke’s gospel, begins with these words: “When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.” The words “taken up” are a literal reference to Jesus’ ascension into heaven: that is, at the end of the life of Jesus Christ on earth, including his resurrected life. So the phrase “the days…for Jesus to be taken up” refers to all the events which culminate in his ascension: his final conflict with the religious establishment, his arrest, trial, crucifixion, death, resurrection, and ascension. Luke is talking here about that whole sequence of events. And he tells us that when those days “drew near”, Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem.” (The Greek literally means “hardened his face to go”.) So it’s clear Jesus knows that what he’s heading into is not going to be pleasant, and he knows it’s going to end in his death. But he knows this is his mission: this is what God has given him to do; so he resolves to do it: he sets his face. Sometimes, facing the truth, and acting on it, takes resolve.
And right away Luke gives us examples of what this means. Someone tells Jesus, I’ll follow you wherever you go; and Jesus famously answers, Foxes have holes and birds of the air have their nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head. Meaning: if I have nowhere to lay my head, and you’re going to follow me wherever I go – figure it out; and be clear about what’s involved in following me.
Jesus says to someone else, Follow me (Jesus wants us to follow him; he just wants us to do it with our eyes open); and this man says, Lord, first let me bury my father (something any of us would want to do – it’s obeying a commandment.) But Jesus answers him, Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God. Jesus refers to those who don’t recognize the kingdom of God – who do not recognize real life, true life, among them – Jesus calls those people “the dead”. This is hard core. This is the Jesus of the icon.
And then finally a man tells Jesus, I’m going to follow you, but let me say goodbye to the folks at home first. And Jesus tells him, No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God. In the act of plowing, once you’ve started you have to keep your eyes on the ground in front of you to make sure the furrow stays straight: you can’t look behind you. Once you’ve started on this way – this work – this mission – you can’t look back. The truth is the truth, all the time.
Now. This passage we heard today is in chapter 9 of the gospel of Luke. There are fifteen more chapters to go, the bulk of the gospel, we still have that in front of us, in Luke’s telling of the whole story: all the parables of the kingdom, the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son; healing stories; the resurrection: all the good news of Jesus Christ. This is the truth which we joyfully proclaim, and joyfully try to live by. But we do that in the knowledge that it’s not always going to be a comfortable experience, in a world gone wrong – a world that is often indifferent or hostile to the message we bring – and a gone-wrongness that we’re certainly part of.
But – with Jesus – we set our faces toward Jerusalem. We see the world the way it is. We do not flinch at the parts we don’t like: especially at our own brokenness. We are not sightseers here. We are not tourists. We are pilgrims, trying to live in the truth, always in the knowledge of God’s goodness, and that God is carrying us on God’s shoulders. What more is there to say? Thanks be to God.