Sorting things out - Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18; Philippians 3:17-4:1; Luke 13:31-35 - Living by the Word - Column

Christian Century, March 1, 1995 by Darrell Jodock

LIFE IN THE first century must have been confusing. Individuals accustomed to local traditions and patterns of life were regularly thrown together with people from other localities. Political affairs were handled not by familiar figures but by Roman authorities--often with a ruthless insistence on loyalty to a distant and strange overlord. The commercial life of one locality was linked to that of others, bringing people into contact with a widening array of outsiders. Moreover, each locality had its own religious traditions. As long as these diverse regional religions remained under the umbrella of loyalty to Caesar, the Romans allowed them all to flourish. Given all of these perplexing encounters and the confusing array of religious answers available, how was a person to understand the purpose of life?

The text in Luke is a microcosm of this confusion. The story is full of conflicting intentions and conflicting interpretations of events. First "some Pharisees" warn Jesus of Herod's desire to kill him. Their warning seems well intentioned (something worth noting, given the tendency in other Gospels to heighten and to generalize the antagonism between Jesus and the Pharisees), but Jesus sees this concern about political danger as a distraction from his religious calling.

In addition to the Pharisees, Herod Antipas come into play. According to the text, he intends to get rid of Jesus, but Jesus regards the tetrarch's plans as irrelevant to his own destiny. Jesus must instead go to Jerusalem, where prophets are killed by their own audience, not at the hands of Herod. Next come Jesus' desires regarding the people of Jerusalem. He wants to gather them together "as a hen gathers her brood under her wings," but they are not willing. And so another pair of conflicting intentions enter the story.

Luke portrays Jesus amid these differing, intersecting personal forces as consistently in touch with God's plans. Jesus is clear about his purpose: he is journeying toward Jerusalem. As Luke frequently reminds us, it is necessary for Jesus to move toward the cross.

What kind of necessity is this? Certainly not the necessity of a creature totally determined and totally controlled by God, for human beings can and do resist God's purposes. Instead, Jesus is a person so "tuned in" to God's aims that he operates under divine authority. He acts with a solid sense of direction amid the confusing and conflicting intentions of the day. The necessity is not imposed but grows out of Jesus' own vocation and identity.

What benefits does such contact with God give? Certainly not immunity, for Jesus' arrival in Jerusalem means his death. He enjoys no shield of divine protection. The same is true for the believers in Philippi. Paul has to encourage them to remain steadfast in the face of their adversaries. Their fidelity to their calling is not determined or fated, nor are they immune from their foes. They have been called by God, and they are encouraged to respond to that calling with gratitude, loyalty and determination. If they are to continue on the way Paul set for them, they need to "stand firm in the Lord."

The Genesis text obviously does not reflect the confusion of the first century, but its message is nonetheless germane. It emphasizes God's role in initiating the covenant, a relationship that implies goals and purposes for the people with whom God covenants. In other words, God establishes the goals and purposes of human life and provides the means for their attainment (in this case an heir) but does not control the human response to those goals. The protection offered by God is like that of a mother hen--the protection of parental love, the strength of a home and an identity, but not the safety of immunity from trouble.

Amid the many conflicts and uncertainties, what one can count on is the fidelity and the passionate, involved love of God. Because God is not in complete control of humans, God remains vulnerable, suffering the consequences of human unresponsiveness and infidelity.

Life in the contemporary U.S. is much like life in the first century. Our localities have been thrust into contact with global economic forces. Our neighborhoods are governed by a distant (albeit usually less ruthless) political authority. And the people of our localities are in daily contact with a multiplicity of religions and philosophies of life, all tolerated as long as they remain beneath the umbrella of American civil religion. The purpose of it all is as confusing now as it was in the first century.

Luke wanted his readers to sense the underlying direction and purpose of events in history and in their individual lives, and he reminds us of that same direction and purpose. The God of the covenant is at work in our midst, seeking to move human life toward the kingdom so eloquently described by Jesus and so thoroughly embodied in his life, death and resurrection.

As Paul would exhort: Do not imitate the enemies of Christ who set their minds on earthly things, and do not be blown off course by every shifting wind, but keep your eyes on the activity of God; "stand firm in the Lord." The antidote to confusion is not an ideology but the awareness of an active, purposeful presence. The goal of that presence is relatedness and wholeness. The goal is a comprehensive shalom among human beings, between them and God, and between them and nature.