Lectionary Notes: Second Sunday in Lent, Year C

Talking back to God, the imitation of Crist, and the mothering love of the Divine

Welcome to the weekly Lectionary Notes from Liturgical Threads. Below, you will find my notes and thoughts on each verse from the Revised Common Lectionary for the above week. These notes combine theological analysis, historical context, and exegetical techniques to provide an analysis of each passage. These aren’t dry academic commentaries; these are my take on Scripture, bringing in study, prayer, and with an eye on the world around us. Free members receive one note; become a paid subscriber to see the notes for all four verses.

Lessons Appointed for the Second Sunday in Lent, Year C of the Revised Common Lectionary

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18

Philippians 3:17-4:1

Luke 13:31-35

Psalm 27

Find the full text of each verse by clicking here.

The Epistle: Philippians 3:17-4:1

The idea of “imitation” is the central principle around which Paul’s letter to the Philippians revolves. In today’s passage, we start with the exhortation from Paul to his readers to “join in imitating me.” And not just Paul, but to any, he instructs, “who live according to the example you have in us.” This instruction follows on from chapter 2 of the letter, where we find the Christ hymn of verses 6-11, where Paul calls on his readers to “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”

In fact, imitation is a key concept for Paul throughout his epistles, although you’ll often find it couched in the language of “participation.” For Paul, the life of discipleship is a life wherein the disciple participates in the life, and even more importantly, in the suffering of Jesus. Through this participation, one achieves union with God, with for Paul, is salvation. In Romans chapter 6, Paul writes:

“Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.”

Discipleship is participation, via imitation, all the way down. We are baptized into Christ, and thus we are to be like Christ in our lives, so that we may be like Christ in death also, overcoming it for eternal life.

Here in Philippians, Paul has ethical issues in mind when he calls on his readers to imitate him. He says of those who reject a life of imitation that “their god is in their belly,” a literal translation of the idea of being governed by the passions, rather than by the virtues of restraint and self-control. I really like the way The Message paraphrases verses 17-19 here:

“Stick with me, friends. Keep track of those you see running this same course, headed for this same goal. There are many out there taking other paths, choosing other goals, and trying to get you to go along with them. I’ve warned you of them many times; sadly, I’m having to do it again. All they want is easy street. They hate Christ’s Cross. But easy street is a dead-end street. Those who live there make their bellies their gods; belches are their praise; all they can think of is their appetites.”

The way of discipleship is not an easy one; it requires “costly grace”, as Bonhoeffer taught us. It is the narrow way of Jesus, and asks much of us. But, as Paul notes here at the end, its end is glory, and joy, and the great final victory of love over the powers of death. That love is what we participate in.

The Old Testament: Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18

Genesis 15 is the account of the one of God’s several covenants made with Abram/Abraham, known as the Covenant of the Pieces. Genesis obviously contains several accounts of covenant, and in fact, more than one between God and Abram, but I think this one is the one we most commonly think of when someone invokes the idea. It is here that God promises to make Abram’s descendants as numerous as the stars.

I want to focus here on the exchange between God and Abram that we find in these verses, because I think it illustrates something unique about the God of Israel, a trait that passes down to us today in our understanding of a God who suffers with and for us, in the person of Christ. God begins his covenant here with Abram by imploring him, “Do not be afraid.” This is a reasonable command from God; direct encounter with the Divine is obviously something reverent and holy and, more than likely, terror-inducing. We see, later in Exodus, that gazing upon God can bring death if not mediated in some way. So, it is reasonable for God to preface this interaction with Abram by reassuring him: there is no need to be afraid, I am not here to smite or destroy.

But then, in the back and forth we get between God and Abram, it seems that Abram is far from fear. It would be reasonable to assume that, in an interaction with a Divine Being that requires a disclaimer at the start, that the human being would be meek and submissive and cautious. But, that is not what we see in Abram. Instead, Abram challenges God’s promise, and he pushes back, and later, he asks for a sign. Abram understands that, in this moment of covenant, that he can and should reciprocate by holding God to the agreement, as much as God is holding him to his side.

This illustrates something important about the understanding of God being developed in Genesis, and throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. God is consistently described in terms of great glory and magnificence, with ideas that would have been familiar to anyone living in the ancient near east. But, unlike those other royally-coded divines, this God is shown in a relationship with humanity that is two-sided. Abram pushes back, and Sarai laughs aloud at God’s promise. Moses flees God. The Psalms consistently lament, not just injustice, but the failure of God to always address them. Job spends chapter upon chapter arguing with and calling God to account. The God of the people of Israel is a relational God, and that means a give-and-take. The covenant made here is one in the style of a “royal grant”, wherein a king graciously makes concessions so the lesser side doesn’t have to. But the lesser, in this case, is not merely content with promises. Abram wants to know that God is willing to keep God’s side, and shows he is going to call God to account if not. That’s a whole new way of understanding the Divine.

The Gospel: Luke 13:31-35

The thing I like about the Revised Common Lectionary is that is forces you to grapple with selections from Scripture that you might otherwise not be reading at that moment, and sometimes – almost providentially – those verses are highly relevant to your life or to the world around us. This week’s Gospel reading is just that; in this political and cultural moment, Luke 13:31-35 seems highly, highly relevant. And, considering my own partiality for Luke 4, or the Sermon on the Mount, or the letters of Paul, it’s likely I wouldn’t have run across it at this moment without the prompting of the RCL.

There are two primary things I want to center out attention around in these four verses right now: hostility to power, and the mothering spirit of God. Let’s take those in order.

The passage begins with Jesus being warned, by a group of Pharisees, that Herod has caught wind of Jesus and his ministry, and is now planning to have him killed. Clearly, the radically egalitarian and love-filled message he’s been preaching has started to discomfort the comfortable, and the powers that be are beginning to make moves to quash any challenge to their authority and privileges.

But, Jesus is unconcerned. Not only is he unconcerned, he is defiant. “Go and tell that fox for me,” he hisses at the Pharisees; you can practically feel the venom coming off the page. Jesus is not afraid to push back against the powerful, to assert this own authority to speak and preach in the face of oppression and even death. We have here the original Christ-centered warrant to take a stand against the injustice of empire and tyranny. Under the Herodian monarchy that ruled ancient Palestine, the word of Herod was law. If Herod declared the actions and words of Jesus worthy of death, those words carried the full weight of the law behind them, both Palestinian and Roman.

I point this out to make a clear point relevant to the world today: interpretations of Christianity that propose justifications and excuses for the actions of the powerful, that state that the duty of the Christian is not just to be a good disciple, but to be a good citizen, are in direct contradiction to the words and actions of Jesus. Jesus had no interest in submitting to unjust laws and tyranny. Now, crucially, he did not subsequently endorse violent resistance to empire; the end of Lent brings with it the kind of resistance Jesus lived: that of nonviolent suffering, of laying down one’s life for the sake of disarming and unraveling the illusion of power held so tightly by those in places of authority. But resistance it still was. To refer back to the Philippians selection this week, this is part of the life we are called to imitation of.

Let’s turn to the second point of emphasis here: in his extended response to Herod’s threats, Jesus turns to lament, over the city that Herod exercised his rule from: the city of David, Jerusalem. Despite the threats by the power that resided in that city – clearly meant to dissuade him from moving forward with his planned incursion into the city at Passover – Jesus stands firm, restating his intention to carry out his mission. But, he is clear eyed about this mission: he knows he goes to Jerusalem not as a conquering hero, but like a lamb led to slaughter. Herod’s threats carry so little water with Jesus because that’s the whole point.

And yet, Jesus knows death is a tragedy, and he feels the dread and despair of his impending. So, he offers a lament for the city that, despite his love for its people, will shortly condemn him and call for his death. And, in this lament, we see emerge the mothering character of God’s love for God’s people; “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” The love of God, when faced with threats of violence and death, does not back into a defensive crouch. It does not implore us to fight back, to employ principles of just war, to stand your ground and protect your castle. The love of God, Jesus tells us, is like a mother hen. The love of God is the love of a mother, a feminine love that softens and comforts and grieves.

A Note on the Psalms

I’ve made the decision to not use the Psalm selections in Lectionary Notes and Sermon Starters. As I noted last week, I personally struggle with the Psalms, and further, I don’t think that they are often the subject of sermons or homilies for most churches. I will include a section on the Psalm for the week in Liturgical Materials on Fridays.