"Today, Tomorrow, and the Next Day" | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | March 16, 2025

Sermon Preached: March 16, 2025 at Trinity on the Green

Lent 2, Year C: Genesis 15:1-12,17-18 | Philippians 3:17-4:1 | Luke 13:31-35 | Psalm 27

May I speak in the name of God, who leads us through every wilderness. Amen.

Today’s Gospel passage is profoundly strange. We find ourselves in the midst of a complicated political situation. Herod reportedly wants to kill Jesus– something that he has wanted from Jesus’ birth, let alone the start of his ministry. It is unclear, in this passage, whether the Pharisees who come to warn Jesus about this, do it out of a genuine concern for Jesus and his well-being, or with an ulterior motive– since many of the Pharisees, too, would like Jesus out of the picture. The Pharisees are, ultimately, a diverse lot; an emerging branch within Judaism that sought to pave a way forward for religious practice in the context of the Roman Empire. Some of the Pharisees draw near to Jesus, asking him theological questions in earnest and breaking bread with him and his disciples. While other Pharisees are portrayed in the Gospel as enemies of Jesus– traditionalists and hypocrites.

When it comes to today’s passage we simply don’t know the motives of those Pharisees who come to Jesus. But we do get to hear Jesus’ response to Herod– and it is not at all favorable. Jesus calls Herod a fox, and goes on to say that he will continue his ministry in spite of the risks. He will continue casting out demons and healing. Then Jesus mourns the state of the city of Jerusalem– the religious epicenter of Jewish faith, the faith that he himself was a part of.

This is a dense passage. It is a passage riddled with the particular historic context of Judea in the first century– a world of different religious beliefs and practices within Judaism; a world of political conflict. Although we might not fully understand the lived experience of that world, there is a lot that we can resonate with. 

For example, Jesus lived at a time when a number of different expressions of Judaism were in tension with each other about which one was the most authentic Judaism. Sound familiar? Today, we find ourselves in a situation where a number of different expressions of Christianity are in tension with each other. Some Evangelicals claim that Episcopalians and other mainline denominations are hardly Christian. On the other hand it can be difficult, as an Episcopalian to see the actions and behaviors of other Christians and recognize that they are a part of the same faith. What is true Christianity, in the midst of this divide? And how can it be that we have such different understandings of scriptural values, such as welcoming the stranger, or caring for those who are poor and oppressed? Internal religious conflict was prevalent in Jesus’ time. And we certainly feel it in our own way, today. 

The other characteristic that is apparent in today’s Gospel passage is the reality of political conflict. Need I say more? This is another way in which the world of Jesus deeply resonates with our own lived experience. 

Today’s Gospel passage paints a vivid picture of the world that Jesus lived in– a world of religious and political conflict. The question then arises: what can you do about it? What did Jesus do in his own time, and what can we do in the face of a world that sometimes feels like it is unravelling?

The first thing that Jesus does is decide to keep on going. “Listen,” Jesus says, “ I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I 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 of Jerusalem.” These words that Jesus speaks are in a sense prophetic. He seems to have some prior knowledge of his crucifixion and resurrection– especially in his reference to finishing his work on the “third day” (that is, the day of resurrection), and his conviction that he will not be killed until he enters the city of Jerusalem. This is the divine part of Jesus speaking. But there is also something very human about his words– in particular, the way that Jesus reflects on “today, tomorrow, and the next day.” Jesus knows that he can only live in the present moment, moving from one day to the next. This is the human side of Jesus deciding to take things one day at a time. It’s a model for how we also can move forward, on days when the world feels overwhelming. Keep on going; keep on doing your work. Take things one day at a time.

And what is our work to do, we might ask? I think our work is the same as Jesus, and his disciples alongside and after him. It is the work of healing. Each of us in our own way is called to the work of healing: healing ourselves, where we feel broken and uncertain; healing our relationships, when the ability to love feels stretched and strained; healing our communities, so that they might look a bit more like the vision of the kingdom that Jesus proclaimed; and healing creation, God’s greatest gift that we have so often overused and ignored. We may not have Jesus’ miraculous power for healing, but we do have the power of his example. As followers of Jesus, we are each called to seek out healing and wholeness; for ourselves, and for the world around us.

There is a second response that Jesus makes, in the face of religious and political turmoil. It is the act of lamentation. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem,” Jesus mourns, “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!” For some of us, lamentation may seem like a melodramatic or foreign concept. But lamentation is, at its heart, grief. Lamentation is profound sadness about the way the world is. And lamentation often contains within it a different vision of how the world ought to be. For example, Jesus describes a different vision for Jerusalem with the image of Jesus as a mother hen, gathering up her chicks under her wings. Instead of division and violence, Jesus sees unity and protection. This vision of a new Jerusalem stands at the heart of Jesus’ lamentation. He mourns what is, and he envisions what could be.

What might it look like for you to take on this practice of lamentation, in the face of our political and religious conflicts? Instead of jumping straight to anger or defensiveness or even fear– linger in the sadness. Grieve with those who have lost their jobs, because of changes in government funding. Grieve with the families who are separated across state borders in detention centers, those immigrants and refugees who were seeking a safer and better life for themselves and their loved ones. Grieve with the people of Ukraine, who are the victims and not the aggressors in the war with Russia. And once you have cried with those who are hurting, let those tears clear your eyes, and give you a different vision for how the world might be. A better vision of community; a better vision of the church; a better vision of what it looks like to be in relationship with the world around us.

Our Gospel passage shows us that we are not alone, in the face of religious and political conflict. Jesus lived through these things too. We can look to Jesus as a model for how we can navigate our own troubling times, and we can trust that Jesus is still walking with us.

Jesus did these things, in the chaos of his own time: first, he decided to keep going, to keep healing; and second, he cared deeply for the world around him by lamenting what was, and dreaming of what might yet be. 

We are invited to do the same.

Keep going.

Keep healing.

Keep crying, when the world is out of sync with itself.

And keep dreaming, of what a better world might look like.

Don’t rush to fix things when they are broken, but instead learn to love the broken things of the world, and hold them close, even in their brokenness. Whenever possible, resist the urge to scatter— like a bunch of vulnerable chicks running in every direction. Instead, let yourself be gathered under the sheltering wings of God’s grounding love. Let that be your foundation, when the earth quakes and the mountains tremble. Let God hold you close, and carry you into tomorrow. Amen.