One of my favorite hymns that we sing in our parish during the Lenten season is "Jerusalem, My Destiny." Perhaps the first lines of the refrain with their marching-tempo, 4/4 time are familiar to you, too. "I have fixed my eyes on your hills -- Jerusalem, my destiny. Though I cannot see the end for me, I cannot turn away."
It's hard not to conclude that the inspiration for the hymn writer comes from today's Gospel passage from Luke. The Pharisees warn Jesus that there is danger ahead. Herod is on the move. (Who knew that the Pharisees could show this small sign of care and concern for Jesus? “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”) They counsel that Jesus, like the Magi of Old, should return home another way. Jesus rebuffs their advice. Wistful at what might have been, but then resolute, he claims the journey and its destination as his mission and true purpose. Jerusalem, the city where prophets' voices have been silenced, will become the template for the greatest sacrifice of a love that ultimately will transcend all time and place. Courage overcomes fear, even fear of an end that is indeed known, and the journey continues.
As we ready ourselves to celebrate All Saints Day tomorrow, we marvel at the legacy and life's witness of many of the Saints who showed this same pattern of single-minded commitment to both the journey and its destination that were their destinies -- the bright patterns of holiness shown by saints or saints-in-the-making as they moved toward their own Jerusalems. Following in the footsteps of the missionary zeal of the first Apostles and Paul, we celebrate the witness of Jesuits Francis Xavier, Isaac Jogues, and Walter Ciszek, each undeterred by dangers as they set on their treks to evangelize China, Northern America, and Russia. We celebrate the tenacity of Mother Cabrini who had to let go of one dream to embrace the unknown possibility of another. We remember Etty Hillesum and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, each who willfully left the safety of New York City to return to war-torn Europe... and to their deaths. The recently published diary/memoir of Aleksei Navalny provides another stark example. As is well known, Navalny courageously – or foolishly – returned to Russia in 2021 to fight against the very corruption and authoritarianism that had led to his near-death poisoning. He could see the journey and the end -- rearrest; spending the rest of his life in prison, separated from his wife and young children; his early death -- but he could not turn away.
How are these commitments possible? In beautiful pairings of our full scripture buffet today, we people of faith see a glimpse of an answer. "Blessed be the Lord, my Rock," prays the Psalmist. Our God, our unshakable, solid Rock, our strong and sure foundation. We set out on firm ground now girded, as Paul so poetically writes to the Ephesians, with the Armor of God, clothed with God's very strength and mighty power -- the power of truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and his Word and Spirit.
The final lines of the refrain of our Lenten hymn end with "Let no one walk alone. The journey makes us one." Our single-minded courage is now bolstered by both the strong and sure promises of faith – and our companions on the journey. What courage is required of us this day? Who will we accompany?..... Good questions for All Hallows Eve.