The
following meditation was written by Doug Hood’s son,
Nathanael Hood, MA, New
York University
“As
Jesus came to the city and observed it, he wept over it.” Luke 19:41 (CEB)
Pause
a moment, and consider the city of Jerusalem as Jesus once saw it. Jesus the
man—the Nazarene rabbi—looked upon an already ancient city straining under the
yoke of Roman imperialism. Centurions elbowed through marketplaces crowded with
Samaritans and Sadducees; self-righteous Israelites prayed in the squares as
scabrous lepers scurried through the outskirts. In a few hours, he would be
welcomed as a savior by the oppressed masses who would lay their coats and palm
branches before him, singing the Psalms of David in joyous delirium. In a few
days, those same crowds would scream for his death, demanding his execution at
the hands of Pontius Pilate.
There
is a small Roman Catholic church on the spot believed to be where Jesus wept in
the nineteenth chapter of Luke—shaped like a tear drop, it sits on the Mount of
Olives east of the city. Not too far from it is the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre, believed to be situated on Golgotha, where Jesus was crucified. Did
he know, when he looked upon that city, that in a week’s time he would be
seeing a nearly identical view, this time tortured, beaten, and nailed to a cross?
Yes, Jesus looked upon the city that would be his doom and wept.
Now
consider Jesus the Divine, the physical incarnation of the holy Godhead, the
living Word that is and was and will be. See the city he saw, the city first
inhabited 6000-7000 years ago by shepherds thirsty for freshwater springs. See
the city ruled in turn by Canaanites, Egyptians, Babylonians, and Romans,
dashed by waves of invaders and dynastic restorers. See the city whose legacy
is warfare and carnage, as even God’s chosen king David took it by force from
its Jebusite inhabitants. See the city that would be ravaged by emperor
Vespasian less than a century after his death, the second temple reduced to
ashes and a single wall while over a million civilians lay dead with another 97,000
enslaved. See the city conquered by Muslims in the seventh century, contested
by crusaders in the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth, controlled by Ottoman
Turks until the nineteenth, and torn between Israelis and Palestinians to this
very day. See the city originally named the “dwelling of peace” which would
know none for countless generations.
How
can we see this city and not weep? Earlier in the Gospel of Luke, Jesus had
mourned the sacred city upon learning of Herod’s plot to murder him:
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the
prophets and stone those who were sent to you! How often I have wanted to
gather your people just as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you
didn’t want that.” (Luke 13:34 CEB)
Two thousand years later and the chicks have still not come
home. We look out and see a world more bitterly divided than ever, edged on the
brink of cataclysm. How similar it must have felt for first century Jews living
under the thumb of Rome where a single order from the emperor could ravage
their holiest of holies as was done in the time of Jeremiah. Yet let us not
forget that it was out of this swirling void of chaos that God chose to unmake
the world itself with a new covenant, one that transcended all the sorrow and
brokenness of this life with the promise of a new one. These times are not the
end, merely a transition from which to emerge like a certain lowly carpenter
all those years ago towards a great glory.
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