Considering these last few verses of Luke’s 13thchapter, I think it’s worthwhile looking back at the chapter as a whole. Not because these verses are connected. But because the whole chapter feels weirdly disconnected.
It reminds me of that picture book, If You Give a Mouse A Cookie. You know how it goes? If you give a mouse a cookie, he will probably ask for some milk to go with it. And when he finishes, he will look at himself in the mirror to see if he has a milk mustache, and when he looks in the mirror he will notice that he needs a haircut, so he will ask you for a nail scissors, and on it goes. Jesus is acting kind of like that mouse in this chapter. He’s just jumping from one thing to another thing to another thing – and there’s no apparent connection between them all.
At the beginning of the chapter, out of the blue, we hear about some Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. I am guessing that Luke knew who they were, these Galileans, but you and I don’t. At any rate, that was a bad fate for them. One they probably didn’t deserve, Jesus says. And this seems to remind him of a story he once heard about a fig tree. It goes like this:
A man walks through his vineyard and sees this fig tree. It’s been there at least three years and it’s not giving any fruit. It’s just taking up space. So he orders his gardener to get rid of it. Something more useful can be planted there. But the gardener suggests he give it one more year – see if anything happens then. If not, he’ll cut it down.
Jesus never finished the story, though, and we don’t know what ever happened to the fig tree.
It might be because he got distracted by the woman who walked into the synagogue at that moment. In verse 10. She was quite bent over, and the very sight of her seemed to move Jesus. So maybe he stopped talking in the middle of his story, walked over to her, laid his hands on her and said a few words. She stood upright, just like that.
And that was good.
But then the Synagogue leader got bent out of shape about this disruption – in verse 14. It wasn’t necessarily that he disliked this woman being healed, more the case that he was upset about things being disorderly. This was the sabbath day, which is not the day for works of healing. Jesus should have waited, the synagogue leader tells him. But the crowd there witnessing all this, most of them were on Jesus’ side. And the woman’s side. We know this from verse 17, which says they were all rejoicing at the things he was doing.
And that seemed to put him in mind of the kingdom of God, which is something he always liked to talk about. The kingdom of God; to what can it be compared? Here he says it’s like a mustard seed, a tiny little thing that grows into a big bush. And it’s like yeast, the stuff that a woman mixes in with the flour for bread, and it mysteriously causes the bread to rise.
And so it goes; Jesus continued moving, going out of the synagogue and all through the towns and villages, one after another, making his way toward Jerusalem.
And all the while, he’s saying some crazy stuff! Who would say the kingdom of God is like a mustard bush? No one, that’s who. Now maybe a cedar of Lebanon, that’s a tree worth talking about. Fine wood, pleasant fragrance, suitable for a king’s palace. Why are you talking about a shrub, Jesus?
And yeast! That invasive, nasty stuff. It gets into places you don’t want it to be. It makes trouble and it’s hard to get rid of. Yeast is something to beware of! The kingdom of God is like yeast? Said no one ever. Come on, don’t be crazy, Jesus.
I think maybe people are getting worried now. In verse 23, someone approaches him and asks, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” This guy wants to know: is there enough room in the kingdom for all of us? Because all the stuff he’s saying is turning their world upside down. Jesus doesn’t quite answer his question, but he kind of suggests that when this guy gets to the gates of the kingdom, ready to step through, it’s quite possible the Lord will stand in his way and say to him, “Hmm. Your name’s not on the list. Sorry.”
But then Jesus goes on – essentially saying, Hey, you just don’t know! All kinds of people will come, from north and south, from east and west, and sit at table in the kingdom of God. The ones who were last will be first, the first will be last. You just never know.
And somehow, I don’t think any of this is making the people more comfortable.
Just then, where we started today, a group of Pharisees approached him and told him, “We just want to warn you, Jesus. Herod is after you; he wants you dead. You’d best be on your way.”
Well, I don’t think Herod was actually talking to the Pharisees. I think they’re bluffing. I think when they say, “Herod doesn’t like you,” what they really mean is, “We don’t like you.”
The Pharisees don’t like what Jesus is doing and saying. It’s disruptive. It’s disturbing. It’s confusing. You see, they feel they have already figured it all out. They know what the kingdom is like (not mustard or yeast, for goodness sake) and they don’t appreciate Jesus’ analogies. They figure they already know what the rules of admission to the kingdom are, and they don’t appreciate Jesus’ suggestion that they might not really know.
Jesus is upsetting things, raising questions, disturbing the status quo and they feel it would really be for the best if he went way.
Actually, to be honest, they don’t want any part of this kingdom he’s talking about. So they say, “Jesus, you need to get away from here because Herod wants to kill you.” And Jesus doesn’t miss a beat when he says –
Listen, you tell that fox, Herod, I’m coming and there’s not a thing he can do about it. I’m casting out demons and performing cures, and I’m coming to Jerusalem. I’ll see you there.
You fox.
Then he changes his tone, suddenly. Again. As his thoughts turn to the vulnerable ones, the chicks that are such easy prey for the fox.
It’s not totally surprising that his thoughts and his words are jumping all over the place. He has a lot weighing on his mind right now. After all, he has turned his face toward Jerusalem and everything that awaits him there.
And he looks to Jerusalem with a range of feelings. He knows he must be on his way there, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside Jerusalem, as he says. It is clear what he means: He is the prophet and his death is inevitable. And that being the case, he has a few things he wants to say while he has the time.
All the disjointed topics and remarks in this chapter seem to say to us that we don’t really have it all figured out. That, as much as we want to impose order and reason on the world, it’s actually a much bigger subject than we can gain command over. It’s like he wants to say to you and me:
Who is worthy of the kingdom of heaven? All of you; none of you. Both are true. Don’t try to do the sorting, please. That’s God’s work.
I know this is hard for you. You have a weakness for easy answers and you like to think you’re the boss of things. You’ve always been that way. And I will tell you – you really test my patience sometimes. I wait and wait for you to bear good fruit. It would be easier to just clean the slate and start over again. But no. I wait.
I want so much to free you from all the ways you get yourselves tied up in knots! You can’t seem to remember how simple it really is – love one another. Period. You don’t have to make up some special criteria, make hurdles for people to jump over, boundary lines that are meant to separate the loved from the unloved, rules that mean to keep some away from me.
Don’t you know the kingdom of God is everywhere, in every living thing? In the mustard bushes, in the yeast, in you, in me.
The kingdom for God is for everyone. If only you could see that.
But I am afraid you get sidetracked by those who do not really have your best interests at heart. They don’t love you like I love you. I wish you would let me love you.
Yes, even you Pharisees. I wish you would let me love you. Why would you want to take the side of King Herod, or any other kings and would-be kings? they don’t love you.
Perhaps you just want to be on the side of power, the powerful ones. But when do they ever have your interests at heart? Why would you ever want to be like them?
Jerusalem is a hard city; the world is a hard place for prophets and for baby chicks. Like you. Like us.
Foxes like Herod, and sometimes even Pharisees, will see your weakness and prey on you. That’s how evil works. But I want to protect you like a mother hen protects her chicks. The chicks may not know enough to stay away from the foxes, but I will shelter them – if they will let me.
Just imagine Jesus saying all that to us.
“How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” More than anything, Jesus longs to gather us to himself. Maybe we could let him.
Maybe we could admit that we, too, have a strong desire for God, a desire that we have been looking to fill in all the wrong places. Maybe we could gather together, all us chicks, and just be in the joy of his presence.
Maybe we could do that.
May you let yourself be gathered and be transformed under his wing. And may you worship more mindfully, pray more fervently, serve more readily, live more lovingly, in his name.
