March 17 Sermon

Luke 13:31-35

As of today, sixteen people have officially announced that they are running for president of the United States, that is, of course, on the Democratic ticket. In the last such election cycle, it was about the same number for Republicans. This time they can be grouped into 7 categories:

• 6 current U.S. senators.
• 3 present or former U.S. representatives.
• 1 current governor and 1 former governor.
• 2 city mayors—1 the former mayor of a large, urban area, the other currently serving a small city.
• A high-tech entrepreneur.
• And last, an inspirational author and speaker.

In some respects, just about any kind of person could throw his or her hat into the ring. In fact…I have an announcement to make….I have decided not to run for president—as a Democrat, Republican, or Independent. Just kidding!

Seriously, just imagine all the work, all the efforts being expended by and on behalf of those candidates —not the least of which are the campaign trips. 

• To states like New Hampshire and Iowa.

• And annual events—like the South by Southwest Tech

and Music Festival held every March in Austin, Texas.

It’s all part of a long, arduous journey, at the end of which is waiting for one of them—if our current president were not to win—that special place in our nation’s capital. Whatever happens, there will have been expended an incredible amount of blood, sweat, and tears on the part of countless individuals.

Those running for public office—especially on the state and national levels—have to have what seems an endless amount of determination. And they also need to have a laser-like focus on that final goal.

If anything, Jesus had his eye on a final goal. Beginning at the synagogue in his hometown, he announced he had come “to bring good news to the poor…to proclaim…recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free…”

And, for three years, that’s what he did—traveling from one small town to another. Even when it was time to go to the capital city, that is, when “he set his face [toward] Jerusalem,” he continued—along the way—to “[cast] out demons and [perform miracles of healing].” Threats from King Herod or anyone else, for that matter, were not going to keep him from reaching his goal. That’s all there was to it.

Yet, on reaching the city, his goal was not to become the political leader of the land—as the king, as the then understood long-awaited Messiah—although that’s what his followers had been hoping for. To use a military term—and maybe too harsh a one at that—what he was on was basically a suicide mission. Yet not to kill others, but rather save them—including his enemies.

It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but that he needed to do. It was heart-wrenching. The night 

before his trial and execution, he prayed in the garden: “‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done’…In his anguish he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground.” Then they came for him.

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In January, we buried who I believe was the next to last World War II veteran in our congregation—Harry Dusman. A good part of his service was in France and Germany. While not going on any suicide mission, he did see action, was wounded, and later awarded the Purple Heart. He certainly had his share of sleepless nights—as did many others at that time—as well as those in other conflicts both before and after. I doubt any of them have ever wanted to give up their lives, but were willing to for a cause much greater than themselves.

On a very different level—as Christians—is it necessary to give up something that’s important to us, something that could be counted as a sort of sacrifice? For those of us who have children or grandchildren, I believe that’s true. But we would most likely give up a lot of things for them even if we weren’t followers of Jesus. Of course, throughout the last two millennia, there have been and still are Christians who have been persecuted—most recently members of the Coptic Church in Egypt. And, of course, in some other parts of the world are missionaries of many kinds put themselves in the path of danger.

But living in a democracy with freedom of religion and a history of favoring Christians—especially Protestants—you and I certainly do not face that sort of thing.

Still, I can think of one obvious sacrifice that a number of us make as Christians is giving our time to those who need it. In this day and age, that can be a particularly hard thing to do. Many of us may already feel stretched to the limit—or nearly so. Others of us have given time—much of it—and would gladly continue to. Taking a Bible verse out of context, I guess we could say that the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. In other words, our bodies no longer allow us to do for others as we have in the past.

One other sacrifice that comes to mind is sometimes speaking for those who cannot speak for themselves. Maybe they have a voice, but not one that others think is worth listening to. One example is a young person standing up for someone else—someone who’s being bullied—either physically, in person, or on social media. Taking up for that individual might mean paying a price for it—oneself becoming a target, maybe even being ostracized by others. Now, doing that doesn’t require being a Christian, but it can certainly be the motivation for it.

In the Gospel, Jesus describes himself as a mother hen, who would gladly not only nurture her young, but in the case of a predator, also protect them and, if necessary, fight to the death. This is how much God loves us. For in his earthly life Jesus was both determined and vulnerable. As he said earlier in Luke, he was on a mission: “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!”

At the same time he was vulnerable. He wanted so much for the people of Jerusalem to return to God, to be reconciled to God—as he wants for all people—but in those last days he ended up with a broken heart, treated like a spurned lover.

As we reflect on such a self-giving love, during this season may we ask ourselves what and for whom we have sacrificed something of value to us. Some of us may ask ourselves whether we’re still able to do that—and are in fact accomplishing it. If we come up short for any answer at all, then maybe we need to ask ourselves what’s holding us back.