2025 Lenten Meditations from All Saints’ Parishioners
Reflecting on the Upcoming Sunday’s Gospel:
The Lament Over Jerusalem
A Week of Meditations for March 10-15 | Printable .pdf
Luke 13:31-35 | Read the Gospel for Sunday, March 16 here.
March 10: A Lenten Meditation on Luke 13:31-35
By Malinda Snow
Jesus asks a hard question: “What is the kingdom of God like?” (Luke 13:18). If asked, most of us would fumble for words. But Jesus’s metaphors afford us steps towards the answer. He speaks of the mustard seed, for example, growing into a great tree. He speaks of yeast, a spoonful of which has power to lift a mass of dough. What is the kingdom of God like? As we keep reading, we hear Jesus saying, “You will not see me until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’” Earlier, He had lamented, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you!” (Luke 13:34).
Clearly Jesus did not find Jerusalem to be open to His message of repentance and salvation. And thus he cries, “O Jerusalem,” having been scorned or dismissed there. We can infer that the Kingdom of God is a place and a state of mind, where one who “comes in the name of the Lord” is recognized and welcomed, and moreover, that the kingdom of God is a scene of healing and rebirth. We can associate “coming in the name of the Lord” with the word apostle, meaning “one who is sent.” Like the little seed or the spoonful of yeast, God’s kingdom is a mental place or state where something full of life and promise, though apparently dry and dead, can take root and grow. “Blessed is he who comes.” There’s lots of coming and going here. We may be the messenger, or the recipient of the message. But it is our business to hear, to reflect, to accept, and to tell the good news. Salvation requires apostles’ telling and listeners’ hearing, receiving, and accepting the good news. As you proceed through Lent and towards Easter, ask yourself how you will go about seeing Jesus, so that you can respond, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”
March 11: Lenten Reflection on Luke 13:31-35
By Alan Gibby
It took me several readings of this passage and many daily walks thinking about it to finally grasp a message coming through Luke’s words. Two thoughts began to emerge: one: in the face of adversity, don’t give up, accept the challenge and move forward; and two: be proactive. Christ is being warned by the Pharisees that Herod wants to kill him, but he refuses to submit to his threats. Instead, he continues to “cast out demons and perform cures.” He is not intimidated by the king and is determined to pursue his mission. He understands that he must eventually enter Jerusalem and face his death, but that end merely inspires him to continue his teachings and healings. In doing so, he doesn’t slink away to some remote village. No, he charges forward, today, tomorrow and the third day performing his miracles and proclaiming, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”
This passage reminded me of a significant challenge that I faced in 2006. I was diagnosed with stage 4 Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. The diagnosis came from nowhere as I had led a very healthy lifestyle, ate well, and exercised regularly. I had a choice to do nothing or to face some rigorous chemotherapy. I put my trust in God and the doctors and said, “Let’s charge ahead with the treatments!” Thankfully, the chemo worked. With a lot of love and support from my wife and family and friends, I endured the process and am now a cancer survivor.
I am sure that I will face many more challenges, just as Christ did, and I need to persevere in the face of those obstacles. As daunting as some of those challenges might be, I need not wallow away in self-pity for that accomplishes nothing. With hope and resolve and with God’s blessing, Christ demonstrates for us that by acting and moving forward, we need to accept the challenges and put our trust in God. Christ is urging us to grasp the challenges we face and address them with strength, courage and faith.
March 12: A Meditation on Luke 13:31-35
By Steve Richardson
There will always be Herods.
Prophets may be right. They may be doing the Lord’s work. But they are not exempt from the consequences of evil. In fact, by forging ahead, true to their star, they are calling attention to themselves, inviting retribution. Evil will have its day, and sometimes their heads on a platter.
The only soul-saving choice seems to be where and when to face the forces of Wrong, our proverbial “hill to die on.” Death is inevitable, either here or “somewhere else,” physical death or the loss of our sequined ragdoll egos. There is also a consolation, however dim or hazy in the distance: God’s longing to gather us in. Jesus’s challenge offers the hopeful fulfillment that comes with a life of honest witness. Knowing this, we may even find ourselves able to pity the inevitable suffering of our persecutors; and recall the hobbling fear of those (just like ourselves in all the ways that matter) who scramble to avoid painful reality.
Jesus is offering hope and compassion, but not immunity, even for himself. Press on, he seems to be telling us, and find your own Jerusalem.
March 13: A Meditation on Luke 13:31-35
By Ethel Ware Carter
The fox is in the henhouse! That fox Herod is charged with the welfare of Jerusalem and the henhouse is desolate. Why were the people unwilling to be gathered to safety like chicks under the wings of a hen? It is not hard to think of times when I was drawn to the shiny golden things, majestic music, the pomp of power displayed, or the success I thought I could earn by myself. . . all so much more seductive than familiar dusty feathers.
And the fox, the fox is just being a fox; he cannot resist his favorite food, fresh pullet. The fox is in the henhouse speaks to putting a creature in charge who cannot help but give in to temptation. There is another phrase for this in German, appointing the goat as gardener of the cabbages. The fox, the goat, Herod, someone put in a position of responsibility for which he is not just incompetent, but where he will cause great destruction.
The glitter and power of this world distract the children and corrupt the keeper. What a fall from glory for the city whose memory is desire of every Hebrew’s heart. What a warning for us! But look, Jesus says “you will not see me again until you say, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” The one who comes in the name of the Lord, not in the name of Herod or the empire. We are reminded again that we cannot have two lords. And, we are reminded that the salvation promised by worldly rulers is a false safety; they have always failed, and they always will. The call is surely to look to that One, to look for that One, the One who comes in the name of the Lord, for deliverance.
March 14: Meditation on Luke 13:31-35
By David Cross
Purpose. The clarity and determination to face whatever lies in our path and move forward. Even when explicitly threatened with his own death, Jesus seemed to scoff and refused to be distracted. He resolved to fulfill His purpose of providing healing and deliverance, bringing God’s message of peace and love to more people. He had a job to do, so he picked up his proverbial lunch pail and kept going. It was His mission as the true prophet of God.
How am I to know what to do when everyday seems to pile on new uncertainties? Do not be deceived by the powers that be, who incessantly tell you what to think and do; trust in your heart that there is a better way with God. I am told to let go of my worldly anxieties and surrender to the peace of God that surpasses my understanding. The mystery of that peace is that it opens the door for me to see God’s will for my life. And once inside, it provides the strength and conviction for me to actually live God’s will for my life. That is my purpose. Unique to me, but available if I’m willing to stop and listen as God is always with me. As St. Catherine of Genoa exclaimed, “My deepest me is God!” In my own way, I too am a prophet serving the divine mission of God.
March 15: Meditation on Luke 13:31-35
By Jordan Hall
This is a weird, funny passage — spicy, as the kids say. “Go and tell that fox” always catches me off guard. It turns out Jesus isn't above the occasional insult.
But there’s more. In nearly every English translation I can find, the specific phrase is “that fox,” and the “that” increases the offense, I think. It’s both overfamiliar and dismissive. He won’t even name his would-be executor. And maybe that’s the point. Herod is a political title, after all, and this Herod is no different than the rest, including the one who already tried to kill him. Each fails to understand who Jesus is or what his plans are.
So, as if to avoid any confusion, Jesus lays it all out. “Listen,” he says — and I wonder if he took a deep breath here — “I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.”
If the scene ended there, I’d chalk it up as an especially heated rebuke that culminates in a judgment against Jerusalem.
But Jesus goes on, renewing the metaphor. If a Herod is a fox, Jesus is a hen. Foxes are clever and cunning. Chickens are, from my understanding, neither. But Jesus doesn’t want to be a fox. Jesus wants to gather his children under his wings, if only they would let him. On the surface, this image seems like a calm, comforting image, but according to N. T. Wright, what Jesus is actually describing is how a hen behaves to protect her chicks when a fire breaks out in a barn.
So like I said, it’s a weird passage, which reveals Jesus’ character and mission in a series of subtle and not-so-subtle ironies. There’s a sense of urgency, or righteous impatience. It reminds me of a scene in The Two Towers when Gandalf scolds a political opportunist not unlike Herod. “The wise speak only of what they know … I have not passed through fire and death to bandy words with a serving-man till the lightning falls.”
Just then, thunder sounds in the distance.
Reflecting on the Upcoming Sunday’s Gospel:
Week of for Meditations March 17-22
Luke 13:1-9 | Read the Gospel for Sunday, March 23 here.
March 17: A Lenten Meditation on Luke 13:1-9
By Laney and Rudy Ortega
The nature of a fig tree is to grow and then to bear fruit. The fruit being the tree’s gratitude for the care it has received. I believe humans are basically good. Our nature, like the fig, is to give back, to reveal the fruit of our blessings through our kind actions towards others. But people, like the fig tree, will not bear fruit if they have not been cared for. Regretfully, man is too often denied the care needed to offer the acceptance and the love that nourishes our spirit and that of others.
If not cared for, we all risk becoming indifferent, embracing hatred as the means to restore a sense of balance. But this is not our true nature. Rather our apathy separates us from our true purpose. Invariably, we cannot give that which we don’t have. The nurturing of our spirit is essential if we are to bear our human fruit. We must be embraced, accepted, protected, and loved if we are to fulfill our destined purpose. To serve in God’s example and bear the fruit of kindness, love, and acceptance towards others pays gratitude for our blessings.
Pity is not enough; sympathy is not enough. We are compelled to act compassionately towards ourselves, and towards others seeking to bear fruit but unable. We must act lovingly with kindness in gratitude, and as the meaningful expression for the blessings we have received. This, along with time and patience, will reveal a person’s nature and thereby allow us to bear witness and take joy in the bounty of fruit that is released.
March 18: Lenten Reflection on Luke 13:1-9
By Shelby Grubb
While scholars typically identify the fig tree in this parable with a wayward Israel, it can be read more broadly to remind us:
- That, during our allotted time on earth, each of us is obliged to be productive.
- That this obligation is not limited to being personally productive but extends to patiently nurturing the productive capacity of others.
- And that, without patience and nurturing, even the strongest and most talented of us are prone to failure.
I have been involved in many formal mentorship programs, both as a partner in a professional services firm and as a university faculty member. And I have been exposed to mentorship programs across an array of business enterprises.
These programs were typically well-intentioned and structured around a schedule of periodic mentor-mentee meetings and reports. But most of them were quietly abandoned after a year or so during which mentor-mentee meetings were deferred or unfocused and reports, if provided at all, tended to be without substance.
The programs that did not fail were those which made mentors personally responsible for the success of mentees and emphasized personal and tailored coaching and assistance directed toward helping mentees master a suite of practical skills. In other words, programs which required individualized nurturing and patience.
Occasionally a mentoring relationship failed to help a mentee develop required proficiencies because the mentee was not motivated or when illnesses or other circumstances intervened or when personalities truly conflicted. Usually, however, failure resulted from the mentor’s unwillingness or inability to take personal responsibility for the mentee’s success and to attend – thoughtfully and patiently – to the mentee’s development.
Of course, the parable is not restricted to the “fig trees” in our work lives. We are also required to be productive and to be patient and nurturing mentors in our personal and family lives as well.
March 19: A Meditation on Luke 13:1-9
By Dave Chambless
As I consider the barren tree, a fruitless fruit tree, I wonder just what its days must have been like when it was a supple provider of delights. How often did a mother pluck a fig to feed her toddler son? Do the lovers who enjoyed its shade still live nearby? Together? And its planter, what of him?
Barren now, but not always. And, never again to be anything but barren. Barren, but not without value. Barren, it is a testament to former beauty. Barren, it is a study of both the past and the future.
Why, why would anyone want to dig it up and throw it away?
March 20: A Meditation on Luke 13:1-9
By Ivy Moultrie
The parable of the fig tree is one of the many parables mentioned in Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. These three Gospels are referred to as Synoptic Gospels because they have many of the same stories recounted in a similar order.
This parable appears in Mathew 24: 25-32, Mark 13: 28-31, and Luke 21:29-32. I found that reading it in isolation to the verses that came before was to do the parable an injustice. Times were hard. It seemed that they were about to get harder. People were terrified and in pain, with no end in sight. They wondered if there would ever be justice or hope again. And, to paraphrase the statement in Matthew 24:6, my southern grandmother would say, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet…you think that’s bad…” which, to say the least, is no comfort at all.
So, the predictions that precede the fig tree parable are frightening. The description of the times to come make their present circumstances seem almost pleasant, by comparison. Things, it seems will go from bad to worse, and there is no hope in sight.
Oh, but wait…there seems to be hope, after all! Out of all the chaos, the pain, the grief, a little fig tree puts out a tiny green shoot. Surely, it is even more visible, in contrast to the grey, black, rotted destruction around it. Just when it seems all hope is gone…and, oh, wait, there’s another one. Slowly but surely, the benighted, bleak earth has a touch of new life. This is the very definition of “hope”. Jesus promises that it will happen. We cannot plan for it, pin the day down on our calendars, or know the number of horrible things that must happen before hope arrives, so that we can cross them off. We only know that we can trust God’s promise of hope. There will be an end to the horror show. So, for now, we can tuck that promise deep in our hearts and keep walking. And helping. And loving. And reminding one another. God promises. HOPE.
March 21: Meditation on Luke 13:1-9
By Clifton Askew
This passage speaks deeply to me as a parent, balancing the desire for progress with the call for patience. Like the vineyard owner in the parable, I sometimes find myself frustrated when the growth I hope for, whether in my children, myself, or the world around me, seems slow or absent. There’s a part of me that wants immediate results, wants to see the fruits of my labor right away. Yet, I hear the gardener’s plea for patience, offering grace and a second chance: “Let it alone for one more year.” This voice reminds me that growth is not always instant, and that grace allows room for mistakes, growth, and transformation over time. In a world that often values quick fixes and immediate results, this parable calls me to slow down and embrace the space for grace. It teaches me that growth, whether spiritual, emotional, or relational, takes time. Like the fig tree, I sometimes feel stagnant or unproductive, but God's grace is always there, urging me to be patient, to keep trying, to keep nurturing, and to trust that growth may happen in ways I may not fully understand. Sometimes, that quiet, slow growth is the most beautiful kind.
March 22: Meditation on Luke 13:1-9
By Kathy Powell, All Saints' Communication Director
“Why should it be wasting the soil?” This question of the gardener upset at the barren fig tree is so often the same message our society sends us. If you're not "producing fruit", you are of no use. As a bit of a perfectionist, when I don’t accomplish what I’ve expected of myself, I so easily skip to disparaging self-talk and entertaining that devastating feeling that I’ve failed myself, my family, and my purpose. A bit dramatic I know, but it is terribly easy to believe what Dutch theologian Henri Nouwen calls the five lies of identity:
I am what I have. I am what I do. I am what other people say or think of me. I am nothing more than my worst moment. I am nothing less than my best moment.
These are tricky lies that are so easily reinforced as truths. Those who are differently-abled, unhoused, without resources, those dealing with hardships and addiction, those from other cultures, countries, and religions, and unfortunately many others, are viewed as being worth less in our society. In the most extreme, they are viewed and treated as if they are completely worthless - a waste of space. Lent gives us an active invitation to walk to the cross with Jesus, to see strength in suffering, and to stand in solidarity with those who are seen as the least of our brothers and sisters. What could that look like in our daily lives? What simple actions can we take this week to affirm someone - or as many people as we can! - that they are valued and loved, purely because they exist?
Lenten meditations added every Friday.
