I Samuel 15:22-23
Hebrews 13:7-16
Matthew 9:9-13
There’s that old Jack Benny routine in which he is confronted by a man with a gun.
“This is a stick-up,” the man says. “Your money or your life.”
And Benny is silent.
“Come on,” the man says. “You heard me. Your money or your life.”
And the exasperated Benny says, “I’m thinking it over!”
What is important to you? And what are you willing to give up, to sacrifice?
A few weeks after I decided to preach on the virtue of sacrifice, Nike came out with that new Colin Kaepernick ad exhorting: “Believe in something…even if it means sacrificing everything.”
That, of course, set off the Twitterverse and the meme factories and the outrage machines. People began cutting the “swooshes” out of their socks and destroying their shoes—in a sense “sacrificing” these articles of clothing as a sign of their furor.
And by this past Thursday, Nike stock had hit an all-time high.
Reflecting on this in the National Review—and, yes, I read the National Review—David French pointed out that: “While America is divided politically, religiously, and ideologically, only a small fraction of Democrats and Republicans pay close attention to political news cycles. And only an even smaller fraction of that small fraction cares enough about politics to actually adjust its buying decisions or sacrifice even a little bit to send a political message.”
And he concluded: “It’s simply more fun to treat yourself than to deny yourself. Just ask Chick-fil-A.”
It is more fun to treat myself than to deny myself—which is just one reason why the virtue of sacrifice is such a problem—at least for me, probably for you as well.
Are there beliefs or people or causes or institutions that compel us to sacrifice everything? Alain de Botton, who suggested the ten virtues for our times that I’m exploring in this sermon series, reminds us that while “we’re hardwired to seek our own advantage” we “also have a miraculous ability, very occasionally, to forego our own satisfaction in the name of someone or something else. We won’t ever manage to raise a family, love someone else or save the planet if we don’t keep up with the art of sacrifice.”
I would suggest we haven’t kept up.
This past week we remembered the attacks on 9-11 seventeen years ago. Some also made note of the seemingly endless war that we entered into as a result.
There are those who have sacrificed a great deal in that war—many have died, many have had their bodies and their lives permanently altered. This congregation has prayed for Robert and Andrew Ghabel who have given up much for others and for this nation during their times of service.
And yet, most of us, in most ways, have been left untouched by this ongoing war.
Several years ago one person spoke for many of us, saying: “I have no friends or family in the military, and to extend that even further, none of my friends have any friends or family in the military. I live in a nice secure bubble, where I get to enjoy a lifestyle amongst the highest in human history. I received a tax reduction so I get to enjoy the fruits of my labors more than I might have otherwise. The war affects me not at all. I recognize the mistakes made, and consider our entire exercise in the Middle East to be futile at best, harmful to our country at worst.
“Yet, I remain ambivalent. I decided, as long as nothing is asked of me, I will continue to turn my head from the events. The moment a sacrifice is asked of me, I will turn actively against it. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I mean any sacrifice.”[i]
Only when we are all finally asked to give something up, to pay a price, to sacrifice, will we have to ask if that price is too high.
What do we know of sacrifice?
For Christians, it’s complicated.
We remember the stories of the Hebrew scriptures and the importance of sacrifice as an act of worship.
Those first brothers, Cain and Abel, came to blows because for some reason Abel’s sacrifice was pleasing to God—Cain’s not so much. “Cain was furious and he glowered,” the Bible tells us. He was angry enough to kill.
When Noah left the ark after the waters of the flood subsided, his first act was to offer a sacrifice to God. His second act was to plant a vineyard, become roaring drunk and passed out naked in his tent.
Moses and Aaron told Pharaoh: “Let my people go into the wilderness so that they may offer a sacrifice.” It wasn’t that much of a request, but Pharaoh denied it and added more burdens onto the Hebrew slaves. Standing in the way of God’s people did not work out well for the Egyptians.
The importance of sacrifice as an act of worship cannot be overstated. Indeed, as early Christians began to reflect on the meaning and significance of the death of Jesus, they were helped in their understanding by thinking in terms of sacrifice. The Letter to the Hebrews is one long meditation on Jesus as both priest and sacrifice.
Sacrifice as a religious act of worship puts what we have and who we are in a new perspective. Something of value is given up for the sake of an even greater value. What seemed so important, so valuable, is placed before the God who gives life and who is the source of all worth. This, of course, is one reason why we include a financial offering in worship each week. We can get the money needed for our ministry and mission here in other ways—you can send money directly from your bank, you can mail a check to the church. But when the offering is an act of worship it both shows and reminds us that we are making a sacrifice when we give. Giving as an act of worship makes a difference in how we live.
At the same time, when we read through both Testaments, we are struck by the prophetic critique of religious sacrifice.
This morning we heard Samuel, the first of the prophets, rebuke Saul, the first of Israel’s kings, saying: “Obedience is better than sacrifice.”
Together we read the Psalmist’s appeal: “Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving.” Do you get the sense here that the attitude is as important as the act? “Make good your vows,” the Psalmist says, and you will know the deliverance of God.
The unknown author of the Letter to the Hebrews, after exploring sacrifice in great detail, urges readers at the end: “Never neglect to show kindness and to share what you have with others; for such are the sacrifices which God approves.”
And Jesus, when people were questioning his actions and his associates, responded by suggesting that his accusers go back to the prophet Hosea and learn what he meant when he said of God: “I require mercy, not sacrifice.” In fact, twice in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus uses these words of Hosea to defend himself.
The prophetic critique tells us that obedience to the God of love, a spirit of gratitude, and acts of kindness and generosity are the sacrifices to which we are called. We could even say that the purpose of sacrifice is to lead us into lives that show mercy and compassion.
As is often the case, I’m just reminding you of what you already know.
If you love someone, if you have raised children or are currently doing so, if concern about a pressing issue has seized you, if you are seeking to make something of beauty in this world, if you are in this city to study and learn, you know about the sacrifices that you have been led to make because of kindness, generosity, mercy, and compassion. At the same time, you also know that you have developed an even greater capacity for kindness, generosity, mercy, and compassion because of the sacrifices you have made.
Long before Nike told you to do it, you were making sacrifices because of what you believed in.
Somewhere along the line you understood what Martin Luther King, Jr. meant when he said: “No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they’d die for.” And if you still haven’t discovered what that is for you, this is the right place for such searching—here in this congregation, among these people.
You see, we live in a time—and in a nation—that is adverse to sacrifice.
Politicians put party over principle.
We lay waste the land, water, and air in pursuit of financial profit.
It’s no longer just athletes—everyone is told that winning is everything.
But here and there—and especially in places such as this—we begin to hear and to learn something else. Slowly we learn what it means to give up a part of ourselves, to offer up who we are and what we have as the realm of God takes hold on earth.
We see it when people here give their time to feed the hungry or to teach a child or to seek justice for the refugees and immigrants who are our neighbors. When we give/sacrifice our time we are offering hours of our lives that we won’t get back so that the lives of others will be better.
We see it when people give money—we give a little—or a lot—so that we might learn to be more generous in all ways.
And we see it when we set aside our own concerns to listen to and focus on someone else—to step out of the center, to give that great gift of being there for another person.
As we give things such as time and money and ourselves, we begin to find other ways in which we can be generous, and then, by God’s grace, even kind and merciful and compassionate.
Believe in something, Nike challenges us. That is, commit yourself to something—or someone—greater than yourself, beyond yourself. In doing so, we will discover the value and the virtue of sacrifice.
As that virtue grows in ourselves and as we help it to flourish in the world, may we discover the even greater virtue of mercy and compassion.
[i] Andrew Sullivan blog, Jan. 10, 2007