October 5, 2025
Luke 19: 29-44
As an off the charts introvert, I look forward to my lunch breaks that I often
take outside here at the church. I need that hour of peace to recharge, zone out,
and just be. So I’m trusting you with this information about my secret lunch spot.
I might regret this, but I like to eat on the steps right out front of the sanctuary. It’s
shaded, with just the perfect amount of sun. It’s low traffic with a few dog walkers,
hidden enough, but not completely out of sight. Often, I sit in silence, sometimes
I bring a book, but if I’m truly honest, a lot of times, I listen to an irreverent,
amusing podcast on subject of football. Yes, football. A sport I know nothing
about or even much care about, but the characters who host this podcast give me
a break. You should know that almost every time I eat in my secret, holy spot the
ants find me and my lunch. I’ve always been fascinated by ants – their strength,
their teamwork, their communication. For about an hour, I’ll observe as a team of
ants lift a massive bread crumb, a crumb that is double the size of their bodies
and work together to carry that crumb to a hole in the brick. I’ll observe a bee
moving from one Hosta bloom to another, your gorgeous here in the summer,
and bee collect pollen, working hard for his hive back home. I’ll sit, while a
commentator talks in my ear about Joe Flacco’s bad arm and blitzes and rush
attempts, not really knowing what any of it means, and not really caring but I’ll sit
and observe a fawn looking side to side and eventually making her way to our
community garden. If you didn’t know, for a while, we had a neighborhood deer
who loved our campus. For about an hour on a good day, I merely pay attention
to what is around me.
Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book An Altar in the World, invites us to pay
attention as well, to notice something we may not have noticed before. To stop
and practice empathy for the world we’re in. She writes, “The easiest practice of
reverence I know is simply to sit down somewhere outside…and pay attention for
at least twenty minutes…With any luck, you will soon begin to see the souls in
pebbles, ants, small mounds of moss, and the acorn on its way to becoming an
oak tree. You may feel some tenderness for the struggling mayfly the ants are
carrying away. You may even feel the beating of your own heart, that miracle of
ingenuity that does its work with no thought or instruction from you…If someone
walks by or speaks to you, you may find that your power of attentiveness extends
to this person as well. Paying attention requires no equipment, no special clothes,
no greens fees or personal trainers. You do not even have to be in particularly
good shape. All you need is a body on this earth, willing to notice where it is,
trusting that even something as small as a hazelnut can become an altar in this
world.” 1
Doesn’t attentiveness feel like the first step towards peace? You know,
Noticing the intricacies, the dynamics of the world? Empathizing where there is
pain and suffering, hope and grace? Being attentive to the miracles and the
conflicts? Observing where power resides and where the powerless are shoved
down? Recognizing your own emotion to it all – where our mind goes, how our
body reacts, why our breath stops? Doesn’t attentiveness feel like the first step
towards peace?
If you listened closely to our second Scripture reading this morning, a
Scripture we know like the back of our hand, a Scripture we read every Palm
Sunday, if you listened closely, you might have noticed something new. Luke
doesn’t halt the story after the crowds laid down their cloaks and shouted
Hosannah. Luke takes Jesus and his trusted riding companion, a donkey, to the
entrance of Jerusalem where Jesus stops and observes the city before him. And
he doesn’t just see the buildings and the people in their physical form, he see’s
Jerusalem as a whole. The Greek word here is horaó which means to see,
observe, experience, or to discern clearly. Jesus sees Jerusalem properly, in all its
pain and glory. In its history and its soon fate. Jesus is attentive to the city before
him, he’s empathetic to its oppressive reality and hurting people.
You see, Jerusalem and its people are under political oppression. The
Roman empire installed kings and governors who ruled Israel as puppet
1 Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World, page 21-23, 34.
governments of the empire. They are under a military occupation where Legions
of the Roman army occupied the land and were empowered to seize property,
enlist soldiers, and imprison and execute traitors to the empire, which would soon
be Christ’s fate as well. Comfort was for the few privileged and powerful to
dominate the land and its people. And it was known that illnesses and diseases,
poverty, and natural disasters would be blamed on those who suffered from them.
Women were considered property of their husbands, and slavery was common.
Much of the income from agriculture was taken by the elite through taxes, debt,
land laws, and indenture leaving people hungry and gleaning the leftovers from
fields. And ultimately, while in every land the Romans occupied, people were
allowed to practice their religion BUT as long as they did not question the social,
cultural, economic, and political values of the Roman empire. No questions
allowed. 2
Jesus’s social world was dominated by a power state of Rome, where
suffering was widespread, and hope was lost in the distant horizon. And then
here comes Jesus who, up to this point, had challenged the status quo, stood up
again the forces by radically loving and accepting all people. Here, Jesus comes
standing on mountain tops teaching, loudly to massive crowds while the Roman
powerful watch from afar with disdain. He boldly preaches the Beatitudes, saying
greatly honored are the meek and blessed are the poor, included are the hungry,
and beloved are the peacemakers. Jesus, in his radical, loving self, makes an
attention-catching value judgment on this mountain: he names human beings
who the world might consider unworthy, and he proclaims them worthy.
And so you can imagine after all of his work, all of this teachings, all of his
parables and miracles and healings, and arguments with the pharisees. After all of
that, you can imagine the pain Jesus experiences when he takes in the sight of
Jerusalem, a city filled with people under the thumb of Rome. Of course, Jesus
weeps for the city. And it wasn’t just tears streaming down his face. Jesus audibly
2 Carter, Warren. Matthew and the Margins: A sociopolitical and Religious Reading, p. 136
sobs. In the days and weeks leading up to this moment, he has worked to expose
a different view of the world and finally, his emotions get the best of him. He
laments by saying, “If only you knew on this of all days the things that lead to
peace.”
Gosh, those words ring true in our hearts this morning. If only our leaders in
power, the oppressors of our age knew on this day of all days, the things that lead
to peace. If only our abusers and bullies knew on this day of all days, the things
that lead to peace. If only our anxiety and mental wellbeing knew on this day of
all days, the things that lead to peace. If only our addictions and strained
relationships and inner judgmental voices knew on this day of all days, the things
that lead to peace.
The same forces that dominated the world of Jesus’ time are the same
forces today in various degrees. We, like Jesus, are attentive to the state of our
country and the fears of this world. We are attentive to the 30 families
experiencing homelessness at our mission partner school, Nations Ford
Elementary. We observe from afar, weeping tears of empathy, as people are
bombed and children starved, food and supplies held back, threats made as hate
destroys innocent people. We notice the ridicule and sneering of one side of the
aisle to the other and vice versa. And we see the impact this new way of living
together has on our interactions with each other and the impacts it has on our
children. We see the fear in the eyes our boys and the trepidation of our girls and
the nervousness of the queer community. And we’ve seen way, WAY, too many
schools on lockdown and children murdered by the guns of this world. We
observe it, experience it, as the Greek tells us, and we weep with Christ for it all.
We wail in agony. Do see what I mean? Attentiveness feels like the first step
towards peace. Attentiveness invokes something within us, it stirs anger and
sadness, fear and hope into action, into good action.
We’ve known this whole time the things that lead to peace. “Blessed are
the poor in Spirit, greatly honored are those who mourn, happy are the meek,
and beloved are the peacemakers.” It’s not a heavy hand of power, whistles of
bombs, or a piercing gunshot that leads to peace. It’s not rounding up people
we’re afraid of or sending in troops. Jesus did not come as one who would
overpower or overthrow the dominant powers of the culture by force. Instead,
Jesus taught a different kind of peace than the world understands. It’s loving our
enemies, forgiveness, welcoming outcasts, healing disease and illnesses, feeding
the hungry, and the power of love to transform our lives and our culture. These
are some of the things that make for peace. These are some of the things that
make us peacemakers. Warren Carter describes God’s peacemakers as folks who
“enact not the empire’s will but God’s merciful reign, living toward wholeness and
well-being.” It’s living against the grain of what our culture tells us to be and who
to fear and what to ignore. Pay attention, peacemakers. Open our eyes, minds
and hearts by pushing back with God’s love and mercy and reign. It’s the first step
towards peace.
And when this feels a little uncomfortable for us. There is a Franciscan
blessing with little known origins, but it invites us into the discomfort of
peacemaking and observing the world as we know it right now and longing for
the world where God’s kingdom reigns, not the world powerful. It goes like this:
May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships,
So that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection,
hunger, and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort
them and
To turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world,
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.
It’s okay to feel what you are feeling as we look at the wars, and demands,
the injustices, the rhetoric, mostly the heartaches of the most vulnerable. You are
peacemakers. And beloved are the peacemakers, for they will be called children
of God. Be attentive, peacemakers.