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My old dog Lou definitely does not belong in the city. Years ago, when my son Tim was in the ninth grade, this skinny dog, who had obviously been scrounging in garbage cans to stay alive, followed him home from school. (Tim has actually acknowledged that he had to carry him part of the way.) We named him Akalujvn (the one who follows after), Lou for short. He is a mixed breed, but looks and acts like a coon hound. He should be out on a farm somewhere, not chained in a city yard, but that is where he has ended up. (On behalf of parents everywhere, I would like to point out that this is the dog that my son promised he would always feed and care for. Twelve years later my son has two sons of his own, but the old man still has that dog.)

He has never been much of a problem, but a few years ago we had some new folks in the neighborhood who had two large dogs that were barkers. They and Lou would carry on a conversation for hours at a time. A little old lady lived behind us, and the barking would get to her. She, of course, would look out her back window, see Lou howling and call me at home or at the office or leave a message on the answering machine. Dutifully Lou would be brought in, although it usually diminished but did not stop the barking. One day she called when I was working at home, with Lou snoozing at my feet. "Your dog is causing a ruckus, you need to do something, I am going to call the police, etc." Well, this time I had a good answer! I responded, maybe feeling a little too good about it, that Lou was not barking, was snuggled up nice and cozy and that she should call the other neighbors (for a change). This was throwing gasoline on the flame. She retorted that I should be ashamed of myself to lie to her, she could hear my dog, and so on. The truth is, I couldn't blame her skepticism. Lou generally was guilty; she just caught me on an unusually good day.

It is little wonder then, that many people have wondered if the Pharisees were similarly having an uncommonly nice day in today's lesson. After all, they warned Jesus to get out of town because Herod wanted to kill him. They were no doubt correct; Herod certainly did not want religious fanatics causing problems. But the Pharisees as a group have not been friendly before this. In Luke 6:7, when Jesus entered the synagogue where there was a man with a withered hand, we read, "The scribes and the Pharisees watched him to see whether he would cure on the Sabbath, so that they might find an accusation against him." In Luke 11, Jesus was quite critical of the Pharisees because of their scrupulosity over ritual cleanliness. Not surprisingly we are told, "When he went outside, the scribes and the Pharisees began to be very hostile toward him and to cross-examine him about many things, lying in wait for him, to catch him in something he might say" (11:53-54).

Many readers have assumed, like my neighbor, once a barker always a barker, and that the Pharisees could not possibly have had Jesus' interest in mind. The notes in the Life Application Bible (Tyndale House, 1986) succinctly summarize this view: "The Pharisees weren't interested in protecting Jesus from danger. They were trying to trap him themselves...." On the other hand, there was no love lost between Herod Antipas (this is the Herod we are talking about here, the one who had executed John the Baptist, not Herod the Great) and the Pharisees. Perhaps they were warning Jesus more out of spite toward Herod than good will toward him, the equivalent of voting against someone rather than for the opponent. And of course it is not beyond comprehension that there were some Pharisees who were receptive to Jesus' message, or at least sympathized with him as a fellow believer in the midst of pagan Roman occupation, and really did want to help him. So this is a good question. Exactly why did the Pharisees warn Jesus about Herod? It may be a good question, but I don't have a good answer.

This is how it always is when we get into analyzing the motivation of others; we never really know. There is the old cartoon of the psychiatrist in an elevator. Someone else gets in and says, "Good Morning." The bubble over the psychiatrist's head shows his thought: "I wonder what he meant by that?" We can and do often over-analyze suggestions, remarks, and advice from others. If we are not careful we get caught by what Martin Luther King, Jr., used to refer to as "the paralysis of analysis." On the one hand this is both understandable and to a degree appropriate. Is someone's advice sincere, really meant to help us? Or is it cunning, meant to make us look stupid and advance their cause? A clergy friend often says that regardless of protestations to the contrary, every United Methodist pastor is in competition with every other United Methodist pastor. (I say this as a United Methodist. I don't suppose we are any better or worse at this than others.) I am sure there is a great deal of truth in this observation. Does that mean, however, that we never help one another, never give sincere advice, never have the best interest of the fellow pastor or his/her congregation at heart? Of course not.

It gets even more complex than that. In academic and corporate settings, I have seen individuals take terrible career advice, accept or decline promotions or relocations, on the recommendation of those who claimed to have their best interest at heart but were clearly, consciously or unconsciously, really thinking of the bottom line of the company or unit. And anyone who has ever attended a Little League or Youth Soccer match has seen parents carrying on in a way that can hardly be described as in the best interest of their children, although they would insist otherwise.

The question of motivation is always a good one and always imponderable. After a worship service one Sunday morning years ago, I overhead a parishioner tell the lay leader, "I didn't agree with what the preacher had to say today." "Neither did I," responded the lay leader. "But you know, I don't always agree with what I say." Why any of us say what we say, do what we do, and act how we act often defies any explanation, even our own.

The third good question (yes, I am skipping the second) in today's story is not so imponderable: Why did Jerusalem have its history of killing the prophet? There is no doubt that it did have a history of killing some prophets like Naboth and Zechariah, and threatening others like Jeremiah. Of course these words would have had a double meaning by the time Luke wrote them down since by then Jesus would have been crucified and Stephen stoned in Jerusalem. Underlying all these deaths -- at least partially -- is the motive of power and control.

You remember the case of Naboth whose vineyard King Ahab coveted. Queen Jezebel devised a way to get rid of him, calling a solemn fast and having Naboth seated at the head of the table as a kind of authority figure. He was then falsely accused of cursing God, an offense that if true would have merited the death penalty under Moses' prohibition of false prophets. It wasn't true, but it provided the pretense to kill him, giving the king what he wanted in an illegitimate use of royal power (1 Kings 21:8ff). In the latter years of King Joash, who like leaders before and since began his reign well but ended badly, God raised up Zechariah as a prophet to call the people back to faith in God. With less concern for pretense, he was simply stoned at the command of the king he dared challenge, again in a display of royal power (2 Chronicles 24:20ff).

Jeremiah fell somewhere between these two cases and was spared death. He had prophesied against the false confidence the people were placing in the invincibility of Jerusalem, harshly telling them that the Temple would be destroyed. Not surprisingly the priests and court prophets whose life, livelihood, and power base were all tied to the institution of the Temple took drastic exception to this and invoked the death penalty against being a false prophet. Fortunately for Jeremiah, there were cooler heads who remembered that there was a precedent for such nay-saying:

Then the officials and all the people said to the priests and the prophets, "This man does not deserve the sentence of death, for he has spoken to us in the name of the LORD our God." And some of the elders of the land arose and said to all the assembled people, "Micah of Moresheth, who prophesied during the days of King Hezekiah of Judah, said to all the people of Judah: 'Thus says the LORD of hosts, Zion shall be plowed as a field; Jerusalem shall become a heap of ruins, and the mountain of the house a wooded height.' Did King Hezekiah of Judah and all Judah actually put him to death? Did he not fear the LORD and entreat the favor of the LORD, and did not the LORD change his mind about the disaster that he had pronounced against them? But we are about to bring great disaster on ourselves!"





-- Jeremiah 26:16-19


Because we all like happy endings, we often forget than an exact contemporary of Jeremiah's, a prophet by the name of Uriah, proclaimed exactly the same message as Jeremiah and was executed by the king.

Jerusalem, in short, killed prophets because Jerusalem was the center of power and authority, and those in positions of authority don't like to be challenged. In Jesus' day the power structure within Judaism was fractured, leading to increased hostility between the factions and heightened concern by the Romans who didn't want to be troubled dealing with religious uprisings among the Jews. The Pharisees saw themselves as the true custodians of the laws and traditions of Moses, separated from the dominant Roman culture; but it was the Sadducees who controlled the High Priestly office and, while claiming to be super-conservative theologically, willingly played ball with the Roman government. Then there were the Herodians who were quite comfortable making accommodation with the local Roman representatives, and the Zealots who wanted the Romans thrown out. Each group had its own agenda and power base and worked to undermine the others. (Sounds sort of like Washington, D.C., or any state capital, doesn't it?) When we read in Mark 3:6 that the Pharisees conspired against Jesus in league with the Herodians, it was a case of strange bedfellows. These two groups may have agreed on little besides the fact that Jesus was a threat to their individual power base.

If the first good question, that of why the Pharisees warned Jesus, is inscrutable, the third good question is not. Jerusalem had always killed true prophets, because true prophets tended to threaten, question or condemn the status quo, something those in power can never tolerate. Then what about the middle and central question in this set of three: Why did Jesus reject the warning to flee from Herod Antipas?

Here, there is no question. Jesus' answer is clear: he had an agenda, a life mission that could not be thwarted by the real threats posed by Herod, that sly and crafty "fox," or Jerusalem, a focus of power historically opposed to those like Jesus. In the synoptic Gospels we see Jesus' public life very roughly divided into three phases: a public ministry dominated by healings and great crowds; a more private ministry focusing on instructing the twelve and the seventy; and the week of the Passion toward which we inexorably move during Lent. Perhaps Jesus' reference to "today, tomorrow, and the next day," alludes to this division. In any case it is clear that Jesus had ample opportunity to alter his course, change his tactics and methods, if self-preservation was his priority.

It is customary on Maundy Thursday, as Lent draws to its climax, to meditate on Jesus' prayer on the Mount of Olives, "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done," (Luke 22:42) and realize that Jesus could have walked away. Today's lesson, on the second Sunday in Lent, reminds us that there were many occasions in his ministry -- would it be too much to say daily occasions? -- when Jesus could have walked away. He was not naïve; he knew of the religious turmoil that surrounded him; he knew of Jerusalem's sordid history with prophetic voices. But he had a mission. Jesus calls us to take up our cross daily to follow him. We may forget that it was a daily decision for him as well. "I must be on my way," says Jesus.

In Luke's Gospel, we find a summary of Jesus' self-understanding of his mission in his own words. (See The New Interpreter's Bible, Vol. 9, p. 281, Abingdon, 1995.)

He said to them, "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?"
-- Luke 2:49

But he said to them, "I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God to the other cities also; for I was sent for this purpose."



-- Luke 4:43

"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."
-- Luke 9:22

"Yet 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."
-- Luke 13:33

When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today ... For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."
-- Luke 19:5, 10

"For I tell you, this scripture must be fulfilled in me, 'And he was counted among the lawless'; and indeed what is written about me is being fulfilled."
-- Luke 22:37


So, as the prayer in the garden reminds us, Jesus was neither unaware of nor oblivious to the dangers he faced from ill wishers within the religious community and government officials more concerned with order than justice. But he was steadfast in his faithfulness to God. If we, indeed, are to deny ourselves, take up our crosses every day, and follow Jesus (see Luke 9:23), we must have a similar dedication. Kierkegaard captured this spirit in the profound title of his book Purity of Heart Is To Will One Thing. We will face no less opportunities to diverge off the path than did Jesus; our reasons may be far less compelling than his. Few of us face persecution and death for our faith: maybe a little unpopularity; perhaps a difficult decision; inevitably some discomfort.

We all face these three good questions constantly. First, why are people giving me this advice? What is their motivation? Is it really for my own good, or is it to serve their needs? Do I really need to buy this product, use this service; even if it is good advice, should I take it, or are there other priorities, other goals that are more important? Third, are there forces, systems, philosophies, structures that are mitigating against my actions? Of course there are and always have been. No matter how much we may try to idealize the old days, there has never been a time in human history when goodness, justice, equality, and faithfulness have not been challenged. There have always been power structures and systems that oppose the prophetic voice, that is any voice that articulates the word and will of God. These "powers and principalities" (Ephesians 6:12 KJV) continue to silence the prophets using whatever means are available.

It is the middle question that is most decisive -- the question of whether or not we opt out of the Christian life or remain faithful to our calling. This is the crucial one. This does not mean that every decision will be obvious or easy. But it does mean we know the direction in which we need to proceed: the direction of faithful service, loving sacrifice, and steadfast obedience.

You may recall the controversy of a few years ago about the appropriateness of football players kneeling in prayer after a touchdown. Former President Jimmy Carter (is supposed to have) made this observation:

It's kind of easy to bow down in the end zone, but the real test of my character is, can I bow down to God on a Monday when millions of people are not watching and the stands aren't packed and my wife is not necessarily saying I am a superstar and my little boy is late for school? Can I stand for Christ when adversity comes my way? Can I stand for him on that day?


We do live in a confusing world, a world of competing demands and mixed messages. But as we follow Jesus Christ on our Lenten journey, we can always respond, "Today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way."