Sermon for March 16, 2025 - The Second Sunday of Lent
It was twenty-four years ago this summer when I first set foot in the holy city of Jerusalem. As I approached the colossal white sandstone walls of the Old City for the first time, I sensed that this city was unlike any other. Stepping through the grand stone-worked Damascus Gate, built during the 1530s when Jerusalem was under Ottoman rule, I was instantly transported back in time. It felt like a place where time stood still.
Surrounded by quaint shops lining the long, narrow, uneven stone streets and alleyways, all draped in awnings that blocked out the sun, I was overwhelmed by the sights and smells. From clothing and fashionable footwear to freshly butchered meats and mountains of loose spices, the shops tantalized my senses and stirred my imagination.
In that moment, I was standing in the heart of Jerusalem, the very stage where the divine drama unfolded two thousand years ago and continues to unfold to this day.. While significant changes have occurred within and around the city, the rhythms of life have largely remained unchanged. My visits to the holy city have deeply moved and transformed me, as they have for all who have walked those sacred streets.
Jerusalem not only holds a central place in the story of Jesus, but throughout its 7,000-year history, it has also been the coveted prize for numerous emperors. It has been destroyed at least twice, endured sieges on 23 occasions, been attacked approximately 52 times, and been captured and recaptured at least 44 times. The magnificent Temple, the very dwelling place of the Lord, stood at its core. Jerusalem is the sacred site where Abraham made a solemn sacrifice by binding his son Isaac as an offering to God. It is here that Jesus endured unimaginable suffering, was crucified, and rose again. It is also the place where Mohammed ascended to heaven and descended to disseminate the divine message to diverse peoples and lands. Beyond its historical significance, Jerusalem holds a profound place in our present and future. It is the culmination of God’s redemptive plan for creation, manifesting in the new Jerusalem. This holy city serves as the heart of the sacred stories of our faith and holds a sacred status for over half of the world’s population.
On this Lenten journey, we accompany Jesus as he journeys towards Jerusalem, knowing that certain death awaits him. Undeterred, nothing, not even the cunning schemes of the local civil and religious authorities, will prevent him from fulfilling God’s plan. Jesus is aware that Jerusalem is the stage where God’s plan will unfold, yet he still expresses sorrow for a city with immense potential to unite God’s people, yet instead has only fostered division and violence.
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills its prophets…How often have I yearned to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, yet you refused!”
Even Jesus’s preaching of God’s will and word could not quell the divisions within the city. The violence, abuse, and power-hungry civil and religious authorities disregarded his teachings. Consequently, Jesus declares that our house is left to us. The city of Jerusalem has been entrusted to us until his return.
I often wonder the meaning behind this statement. What tone did Jesus convey? Was it one of exasperation? Did Jesus, like Pilate, truly wash his hands of the city? Was Jesus angry, frustrated at the people’s intransigence? Or where his words dripping in sadness? Regardless of his emotions in that moment, Jesus’s love for the city remained unwavering. Later in Luke’s gospel, as he descends the Mount of Olives and heads to the gardens of Gethsemane, Jesus pauses and weeps over Jerusalem. His heart is shattered. Then and now, he cries out for his city, the city of God. He yearns for healing for a city torn apart by division. Despite their rejection of Jesus, God’s unceasing love and mercy endure. Jesus will return in glory, and in the fullness of time, the new Jerusalem will replace the old; all that is broken will be restored to wholeness.
Just as the old city is divided, so too is the modern city of Jerusalem. West Jerusalem is under Israeli control and resembles any Canadian or European city: large modern office and apartment buildings, trendy restaurants and hotels, manicured green spaces and parks, reliable public health and human services, and reliable transportation. The picture is very different on the east side of town. East Jerusalem is Palestinian controlled by an Arab Muslim majority and an ever-shrinking Arab Christian population. Where West Jerusalem excels, East Jerusalem is lacking. It is where roads and public services are shut down without notice. Roadblocks are erected without notice that backs up traffic for hours. Every building has black water tanks on the roof that collects rainwater to store and be used for when the water is shut off in East Jerusalem and the West Bank. This is a city that is still crying out for justice. It is crying out to be healed.
Things have only gotten worse over the past two years. More death. More destruction. More roadblocks and checkpoints. More fear. More anxiety. More and more also means less and less for the Palestinians. Less land to live on. Less shelter to call home. Less access to jobs and health care. Less access to education, food, and stability. Less hope. This is not God’s plan for them or for anyone. It is in these moments that God’s heart is breaking along with ours to see this happening again, and again, and again. God is lamenting the cruelty that we show each other.
We live in a deeply interconnected world. What transpires in a city halfway across the globe has far-reaching implications that affects us even here in Winnipeg. This is evident, in part, by the number of refugees who have sought asylum in this city and cities across the country over the years. But also for decades, there has been a gradual exodus that has only accelerated as Arab Christians have sought refuge in the West, leaving behind their deep historical connections to the land for a safer and more prosperous life for future generations. Our psalms remind us to pray for the peace of Jerusalem, but prayer alone is insufficient. We must embody God’s divine mercy and become agents of change. We must listen to the voices of those crying out in the wilderness and bear witness to the suffering in Jerusalem, Gaza, the West Bank, and beyond. We are called to serve all of God’s people without discrimination or prejudice. Those fleeing their cities in Syria and Palestine, and even Jerusalem, are seeking religious freedom and a stable environment in the West, only to confront our own suspicions, fears, and prejudices. Jesus’s mission was to unite the children of God, and so too must we strive to welcome all into the household of God.
What we learn from our gospel and from the ongoing violence and displacement is that we cannot remain indifferent. Jerusalem holds central importance in our faith narrative. It is the place designated by God to be that sacred space where the heavens and the earth intersect. We cannot turn a blind eye to those seeking justice and dignity. What is happening in Jerusalem affects us all. The religious and ultranationalist violence that disproportionately harms the innocent occurs not just there but globally. From the battlefields of Ukraine to the Democratic Republic of the Congo and everywhere else, their suffering touches us all. Jesus’s mission was to heal the wounded and bring us closer to God through love—a love that is open to all who seek it and desire it.
Jesus weeps over Jerusalem because even he couldn’t unite the city. However, when he returns in all his glory in the fullness of time, the old will be replaced by the new. That’s the hope. Lament almost always ends on a hopeful note, reminding us that God is still present amidst all this suffering. If God is still present, so too is His light and love—a light and love that conquers even the darkness within the human heart. That means that, even though things may seem bleak right now, there’s still hope. God is still at work, and we’re called to carry on His work each in our own ways. By coming alongside and entering into the suffering of others we are able to share and shoulder the burdens of life together. We did exactly that together as a community at our Shrove Tuesday pancake dinner where the funds we raised are now on their way to support Anglican efforts to minister in Gaza.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Pray for peace in all places that are suffering under the horrors of war, because God is still at work in those places, through those who continue to be reflections of God’s light and love in a broken world. As you continue your Lenten journey I pray that you find ways to reflect God’s light and love here because our city is also crying out for justice. Our city is crying out for healing. Amen.
