Sacrifice as Spiritual Practice

Evan D Garner

Feb 23

February 23, 2025 – The 7th Sunday after the Epiphany, Year C
Genesis 45:3-11, 15; 1 Corinthians 15:35-38,42-50; Luke 6:27-38

Last Sunday, we heard Jesus say some amazing things: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you…for surely your reward is great in heaven.” Those hopeful words convey Jesus’ vision for God’s reign. They give us a glimpse of what the world looks like when all of God’s promises have been fulfilled.

But Jesus wasn’t finished. With that hopeful vision came a terrifying reality: “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.” With those words, Jesus reminds us that God’s reign is not only consequential for those who are poor and suffering. It also means transformation for those who are rich and comfortable.

How are we supposed to get from here to there? How will we find the strength and courage and grace to let go of our allegiance to the powers of this world and embrace fully the kingdom of God?

Today, in the verses that come immediately after those blessings and woes, we hear the answer. In this gospel lesson, Jesus invites us into that reality. Having described God’s reign and effectively announced its arrival, Jesus now helps us know how we are to live as citizens of that reign. And, for those of us who sometimes feel so very far away from God’s vision for our lives, hearing Jesus lay it all out for us is most definitely good news.

Here's what it means for us to accept Jesus’ invitation to live in the kingdom of God: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who abuse you.” Faced with such lofty and challenging ideals, we may prefer to rest in the comfort of our abstractions, content to fulfill Jesus’ commands with nothing more than an artificial emotional gesture, but Jesus will not let us off the hook so easily.

“If anyone strikes you on the cheek,” he continues, “offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again.” This is not the language of intent or hypothetical encounter. Jesus means these words. He means for us to bear the consequences of our participation in the reign of God with our bodies and our wallets, with our dignity and our security. For what does it mean to dwell secure under the shadow of God’s wings without giving up our own earthly security for the sake of another?

So far, it seems as if Jesus hasn’t made this any easier. He’s told us what it means to belong to God and God’s reign, but we still need him to show us how. He hasn’t given us the answer we’re looking for—the simple and sustainable technique that will make all of this possible. But the answer we’re looking for doesn’t come from somewhere else. It’s already right here in front of us. It comes simply by accepting the invitation to follow Jesus into this other-worldly way of being not as a means by which we must save the world but as the path that leads to our own salvation. Here’s what I mean by that.

We tend to hear Jesus’ radical instructions as if God is telling us to do these things only for the sake of others. To the one who would take our coat, we offer our shirt as well so that they might be warm. To those who would beg or borrow from us, we give what they seek without asking anything in return so that their needs might be satisfied. It is good and right for us to respond to the needs of others. But it is our own need for salvation that we seek when we follow in the footsteps of Jesus.

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” Jesus asks. “For even sinners love those who love them.” Jesus uses the accounting term “credit” to show us that it is we who will benefit from these self-sacrificial acts. “Love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return,” Jesus tells us. “Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High.” It is in practicing this Christ-like generosity, even by emptying ourselves for the sake of others, that we discover our true identity as children of God.

St. Basil the Great wrote, “Someone who takes a man who is clothed and renders him naked would be termed a robber; but when someone fails to clothe the naked, while he is able to do this, is such a man deserving of any other appellation? The bread which you hold back belongs to the hungry; the coat, which you guard in your locked storage-chests, belongs to the naked; the footwear mouldering in your closet belongs to those without shoes. The silver that you keep hidden in a safe place belongs to the one in need.” [1] We give and give and give again not simply to meet the needs of others but to meet our own need to discover our place in the reign of God.

When we pretend that these sacrificial gestures do not benefit us as well, we cut ourselves off from the body of Christ. When we act as if our duty to care for others is not also a duty to ourselves, we make the way of Jesus a road too steep for any of us to climb. That does not mean that our radical generosity will fail to have a lasting effect on others. As St. Paul wrote in his Letter to the Romans, when we feed our hungry enemies and give those who thirst something to drink, we effectively “heap burning coals on their heads,” but isn’t that generosity more sustainable when we do it because it is as good for us as it is for them (Romans 12:20)?

Blessed are the poor. Blessed are the hungry. Blessed are those who weep. Blessed are those who suffer. Jesus announces that blessedness. He declares to us and, thus, gives to us the grace of God’s love which is manifest not in our accomplishments but in our shortcomings. That emptiness is where true blessedness is to be found. That is what it means to belong to God—to be a part of God’s reign. And that truth only becomes clear to us when we walk the way of the cross—when we follow in the footsteps of Jesus.

Jesus has told us who we are. He has shown us what it means to belong to God’s reign—what it means to be a child of the Most High. We do not empty ourselves in order to become worthy of God’s kingdom, for that would be to rob the cross of its power and make it an idol of human greed. No, we empty ourselves in order to discover our true selves—in order to learn what it means to be a people who, by the grace of God, belong not to this world but to the world to come. We practice these impossible things because they teach us who God has already made us to be.

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1. From St. Basil the Great, Homilia in illud dictum evangelii secundum Lucam: «Destruam horrea mea, et majora ædificabo:» itemque de avaritia, §7, https://bekkos.wordpress.com/2009/10/08/st-basil-on-stealing-from-the-poor/.