“He set his face to go to Jerusalem.” That’s how Luke, the narrator, makes the transition. “When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.” A transition statement in Luke here near the end of the 9th chapter. The transition in some ways is one of direction; like a parenthetical note from a playwrite, a note on blocking the stage movement, a note to the reader. We’re moving now from the ministry of Jesus in and around Galilee to the ministry, the teaching, and the events in the life and witness of Jesus that happened along the way to Jerusalem. “He set his face to go to Jerusalem.”
      Some ten chapters later in Luke, right before a description of the Triumphal Entry, right before Luke’s account of what the tradition calls Palm Sunday, ten chapters after “he set his face to go to Jerusalem”, the reader comes upon another, similar transition statement. “After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.” In between there are ten chapters that tell of a journey to Jerusalem, a journey full of teaching, and parables, and healing. A lawyer asks Jesus “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” and Jesus tells of the Good Samaritan. Jesus in Martha’s home where Mary listened so well. Jesus teaching on prayer: “when you pray, say, Our father, hallowed be your name.” And then there’s the parable of the rich fool and the one about the Great Banquet, and the unjust steward, and the lost sheep, and the lost coin, and the prodigal son, and the parable of the pounds. There’s Jesus talking about his own suffering and death and Jesus telling a rich man to sell all that you have and distribute the money to the poor because it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God, and Jesus rebuking the disciples “let the little children come to me, and not stop them.” And then, down in Jericho, right before the steep ascent up to Jerusalem, there in Jericho there is the blind man by the side of the road (receive your sight ; your faith has saved you) and then Zacchaeus up in that tree (today salvation has come to this house).
      It was quite a trip, according to Luke. Quite a full trip; the journey to Jerusalem. Quite a trip once Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem.” Luke’s comment, Luke’s cue, that seemingly simple transition statement that helps the flow of the story; it’s a whole lot more than stage direction, more than a trip tic, more than the first sentence of a travel narrative. “He set his face to go to Jerusalem.” The reader doesn’t have to march through those ten chapters to figure it out either, that there’s more going on here when it comes to Jesus, his face, and Jerusalem.
According to Luke, Jesus just gets started and the Samaritans reject him. He sets his face and rejection comes. He sets his face and James and John, once again misunderstanding the gospel completely, crave some vengeance and judgment. He sets his face, and there along the road, right from the get-go, before the first rest stop, along this way to Jerusalem, even before anyone calls out “are we almost there”, Jesus sets his face and those who would be followers immediately start to weigh the options, count the cost, comprehend the commitment. Jesus sets his face and everyone starts to figure out this isn’t just about a trip to Jerusalem. This is the Way of the Cross.
      “Jesus, I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus shook his head and said, “You have no idea!” Actually, according to Luke, he said “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” “Jesus, let me go and bury my father” No, let the dead bury the dead. You need to go and proclaim the kingdom of God. “Jesus, let me say goodbye to everyone at home” When you put your hand to this gospel plow, there’s no looking back.
      “When the days drew near for him to be taken up, Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem” And for Luke, and for the followers of Jesus, and for the church, and for you and for me, the cost of discipleship went way up. Somewhere up there in Galilee, according to Luke, Jesus turned toward Jerusalem, and set his face toward the way of self-giving love, and an emptying of himself, and a willful suffering, and an embrace of those who hated him most, and a path of non-resistance and non-violence. Jesus set his face so that the very power of God would be revealed in weakness, that the victory of God would come in death, that the compassion of God would be shown in the suffering of God’s only Son. Jesus set his face, not simply on the pathway to Jerusalem. His face was set on the cross. And followers, followers like us, we’ve been trying to figure it out, and count the cost, and weigh the options and comprehend the commitment ever since. Not just his commitment, but ours.
      In the city of Jerusalem, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is located on the site where tradition claims Jesus was crucified. At one spot, a few flights up, there is an ornate altar built above the rock that rises out of the ground. The candles, the icons, the gold lamps, the incense; it all challenges the John Calvin-Reformed-heritage that yearns for simplicity. Pilgrims from around the world and for hundreds and hundreds of years have come to pray and to touch the rock of Golgotha, the hill of Calvary. When it is your turn, and you kneel at the altar, you literally reach down into a hole to touch the rock.
      A few weeks ago, my traveling group, we were getting ready to climb the flight of stairs together. One in the group, who like most of us had never been to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, one asked if we could have more time up there at the rock. The expectation was for some quiet time for reflection; like we had at in the Garden of Gethsemane and at the Mount of Beatitudes and at the Shepherd’s Field in Bethlehem. Well, quiet reflection time didn’t quite describe our wait in line there at the Rock. Tour guides were maneuvering for position and speaking in many languages. One take charge American visitor wanted to preserve his place and create order all at the same time. He said several times, “Excuse me, there is a line you know”. Flashes, video cameras, and more flashes. When it was just about my turn to kneel there at the Rock, a cell phone went off above the stage whispers of the crowd. The ring tones apparently sound the same all around the world. Quiet reflection it wasn’t. The holiest moment in there for me was an encounter with the woman who was diligently sweeping the steps as people came down from the altar there at the Rock. Her smile and the hospitality in her eyes…something about being a doorkeeper in the house of God came to my mind as I watched her acknowledge one person after another coming down those steps.
      The Rock. The Cross. The suffering and death of Jesus. Quiet reflection? No, not then. Not there. But then, when you stop and think about it, when you encounter this Jesus who has set his face to go to Jerusalem, when you find yourself at the foot of the cross, when you stop to ponder how there at the cross, how even in his death, his arms were stretched out to embrace the world, when it comes to his suffering and your reflection, the world and the busyness of life and the complexities of the day, have this annoying way of ringing in. Because there really is no time and there is no place, where the cross can be quietly separated from the rest of life. “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” “I will follow you Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at home”. Jesus set his face on the cross. And followers, followers like us, we’ve been trying to figure it out, and count the cost, and weigh the options and comprehend the commitment ever since. Not just his commitment, but ours. When you stand at the foot of the cross, don’t expect quiet reflection, because you can be darn sure that your world will come crashing in.
      As helpful as it was for me to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, it is very clear to me; when it comes to my own relationship to God, my encounter with Christ, my own spiritual discernment of the Lord’s suffering and death, this Table is the holier spot, the more meaningful spot is a better way to say it. The Lord’s Table. “This is my body broken for you. This is my blood shed for you.” “Here where we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes again.” We say it’s not the table of the church. It’s the Lord’s Table. But it is the table where I gather with you. And that’s part of it. Here where we gather to reflect upon, to remember, to experience his selfless and unconditional and saving love for us. Here where Christ himself is the Rock, the one the builders have rejected has become the cornerstone of our faith, of our salvation.
Everytime we are here at the Table we try to be mindful of hospitality and instructions and inclusion and practice. Table etiquette in the household of God. Striving to allow you to be as welcomed as at a table in your own home. Yearning to make sure that all who believe may take their place at this table. Praying that everyone one of us would know ourselves to be invited and welcomed and nourished here by the Risen Christ, that you would comprehend his commitment and consider yours. For here at this Table, Jesus has set his face to go to Jerusalem.

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