Let us pray: Speak your word through these words, O God, and the spaces between them. Amen.

    Last week, the journey through Lent began with the story of Jesus going away - into the wilderness. He came back empowered and inspired. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus won’t go - at least right away - for reasons that are curious and mysterious. But before we go there ourselves, let us cast our minds back a number of generations to the story we heard from the Hebrew Bible. Last week’s reading consisted of instruction to the Hebrew people about the ritual they should practice at harvest time. The best and first of the harvest were to be returned as a thanksgiving offering, along with a ritual remembering of their story - my father was a wandering Aramean - referring of course to the journey of Sarai and Abram from the region of Ur in search of a place promised to them by God.

    Abram might well be called “covenant man”. His story is punctuated by fits of doubt and promise. He laments that he and his wife Sarai have no offspring. His anxiety in the whole matter results in his fathering Ishmael  with Hagar - Sarai’s maidservant, but still the promise of a child with Sarai is made. Today, we hear yet another instance of it. Abram is instructed to look at the stars at night - they represent the generations of descendants that will follow, despite the fact that Abram and Sarai are already well advanced in years.

    Last week, we began our journey through Lent with the Tenebrae liturgy. The word Tenebrae is the latin word for “shadows”. Each week, a candle will be extinguished, as we are reminded that the darkness is gathering and the shadows are lengthening. It’s an interesting road to be following given that the light is racing back in the outside world these days - but oddly suited to the different point of view that I for one am being invited to follow this year. “Wilderness is good” was at least in part the theme last week. “Darkness isn’t bad” was also given mention. Would Abram have been able to see the sign of the promise if it weren’t for the darkness of night? The only star  visible in the daytime sky is our own sun. It takes night for the sign of the promise to be seen. Abram went out in the dark of night and God’s promise was made visible to him.

    Paul’s description of the journey is a breathless one. We press on toward the goal, never looking back. I could only wish to have the kind of focus that Paul possesses. His is not a path through the wilderness but a racetrack and the bell lap seems about to begin. There are times when I want to sit down and have a good stern talk with Paul. There are times when I don’t want to sit down with him at all, and there are times when I am impressed by what he has to say, how he has to say it, and I could only wish to be half as sure as he appears to be. The reading today from Philippians is one of the latter. The Lenten road for me, at least this year is not a racetrack, but a mountain path - with spur trails leading to magnificent vistas, refreshing pools of clear water, or scary exposed scrambling that requires concentration and commitment. There are places where we can find rest and refreshment and there are places where we would rather not be. Anything but a racetrack, it’s a path of discovery, but also a path which holds within it potential peril.

    That leads to the gospel passage which I referred to at the beginning of this reflection. Jesus is poised at the entrance to Jerusalem. Pharisees - hardly the people you would expect to be giving warning to Jesus - come to tell him to make tracks in the opposite direction because Herod is hot on his trail. Whether it’s because he is not about to accept advice from his usual adversaries or not, Jesus responds in typical contrarian fashion. “Tell that fox not to waste his time”, he says, “I’ve got things to do.” And then he proceeds to voice his lament for Jerusalem. I said before that it is both curious and mysterious. Told that someone is on the hunt for him, Jesus says to tell Herod to forget it - a strange response indeed given that he is the hunted one. It’s as if he is sure that he won’t meet his end outside of Jerusalem. It’s a response full of fatefulness. It’s not proper for prophets to meet their demise outside of Jerusalem. As if he was telling Herod to wait. Just wait until Jesus could wrap things up before heading into Jerusalem. He’s wrapping things up on the third day - a thinly veiled reference to the resurrection event, and then he’s coming to Jerusalem - the proper place for prophets to come to a bad end. Is this a fateful prediction of what will happen to him? If so, it is strange that he should then express compassion with such a loving, caring image - that of a mother hen looking after her chicks. It’s an image reminiscent of ones to follow - when Pilate questions him about being a king, and when he utters his dying words on the cross - refusing to answer the question of Pilate directly about his kingdom, and expressing his concern for the people who’ve executed him by asking God to forgive them. Surely this is a man of mystery - speaking compassion for the city where he, like other prophets, will meet his end, refusing to defend himself when the right answer (at least in Pilate’s mind) might secure his release, and asking forgiveness for the very people who’ve participated in his death.

    That’s  how I see this day in the journey - ten or twelve days into Lent - depending on how you count it, full of mystery with insights coming in unexpected ways, with invitations to look at things differently. The Hebrew people were told to recite this phrase - a wandering Aramean was my ancestor. That’s how I see the journey - wandering, considering the different options, pondering the various forks in the trail - and what they might offer. The finely tuned 1500 metre race is for a different time than today - Paul notwithstanding, and his encouragement to keep our mind on the prize. I’m enjoying the journey and the mysteries it reveals, despite the perils that may appear. See you in a few weeks when the journey into Jerusalem is complete. Enjoy the time in between, and the mysteries and discoveries you encounter there! Amen.