Another prominent religious leader for the cause of freedom in his country of South Africa was Bishop Desmond Tutu, the sprightly, smiling Anglican cleric who was and still is tough as steel beneath his engaging exterior. Tutu was well aware that his position would not protect him and life was in peril: “We received death threats, yes, but you see, when you are in a struggle, there are going to have to be casualties, and why should you be exempt?”

These two men are icons for their respective movements, but what about a woman? How about a girl? I have mentioned to you along the way a six-year-old child named Ruby Bridges who was also an important person in the civil rights movement in the States. Ruby was born in 1954 – a very good year – and in 1960 she was chosen, with the willing participation of her parents and Ruby herself, to be part of the integration of a school which had previously excluded blacks. As hard as it is to imagine, little Ruby was also mocked and jeered and even threatened with death on a daily basis. She was the subject of a painting by Norman Rockwell, who normally portrayed gentler and more sentimental images.

A psychiatrist named Robert Coles was driving by one day as Ruby ran the gauntlet of abuse and volunteered to work with her. Coles was stunned to discover that this child prayed every night for the mob which expressed its hatred so openly. And she prayed as she walked to school with marshalls providing her protection along the way. Fortunately Bridges survived her ordeal and today heads up a foundation that promotes "the values of tolerance, respect, and appreciation of all differences"

It’s always easier to admire the prophets and saints of our faith from a distance, don’t you think? Who isn’t inspired by stories such as these, but who among us would want to pay a price, even at the cost of our lives, to be disciples and followers of Jesus? I’m sure that the three people mentioned didn’t want to be threatened with violence, or to die. What they wanted was freedom and the fullness of life, and they understood that there would be a cost. We have heard the expression “to die for,” as in “that dessert was to die for!” although I have never heard of anyone taking it seriously. What would we die for?

This morning we continue our Lenten journey with Jesus, moving toward the inevitability of Jesus’ tragic and unfair execution on the cross. We know the story reasonably well, and assume that Jesus’ death is a necessary part of our faith story, so we could easily be dulled to the injustice of that death.

Our gospel lesson today gives us an ominous sense that Jesus is moving toward danger as he preaches and lives what is meant to be Good News. We don’t often think of Pharisees as the “good guys” in the gospels but it appears that rather than being hostile, some of them come with concern for Jesus’ well-being and warn him about plans by one of the rulers of Palestine to cause Jesus harm. Jesus seems to be well aware that Herod Antipas is a dangerous man and speaks of him as a fox, cunning and sly. And while he is not yet in the city of Jerusalem, he is heading that way, heading toward a city where things often turn out tragically for those who take the risk of speaking as Gods prophets, the messengers who say what no one wants to hear. Scholars muse over how much Jesus knew or sensed about his fate. Reading the gospels it is hard to imagine that Jesus isn’t aware of the growing risk to his safety, yet he continues to share his convictions about the reign of God.

What would you dedicate your life to? What or who would you risk your life for, die for?

During the past couple of weeks we have watched passionate young men and women give everything they possibly can for their sport and for their countries. Along with the thrilling victories there have been the spectacular crashes and even, tragically, a death. All for the sake of a sporting ideal which has kept many of us glued to our televisions.

Perhaps this dedication doesn’t appeal to – you don’t really support the Olympics. So, would you die for your country? There are Canadian men and women in our military who are passionate enough about their mission in Afghanistan that they are willing to risk injury and death and the gatherings of supporters along the Highway of Heroes is an indication that we admire and respect their commitment to a cause, even when it is not directly our cause, except for our deep beliefs about freedom.

Would we die for our children? I’m sure that some of you who have children with you today immediately went to them in your minds, and there was probably no question that you would do anything in your power to protect your kids, even if that meant losing your life.

How about taking risks, including the risk to our reputations or even our safety to speak and act as Christ’s people? It’s hard to imagine that we would welcome that reality, although Jesus spoke often of the costly nature of following him. Just before the incident we heard about this morning Jesus teaches “strive to enter through the narrow door.”

Someone has suggested that in the history of the Christian church it is not persecution which extinguishes faith, it is complacency, and surely this is a wise observation. We know that in the former Soviet Union and in the China of the Mao era every effort was made to extinguish the light of Christ, and on the surface it worked with churches demolished or reassigned and believers thrown in prison. Even in today’s more open China, many Christian pastors and priests have been imprisoned. Yet in both those countries the community of Christ continued to exist and has re-emerged with a surprising vigour and determination.

Again, it’s fine to hear about this from a distance, and we may admire those who are willing to put it all on the line for Christ, but most of us feel that dying in highly overrated. Honestly we prefer a cushioned landing for our faith. Maybe we could call it“air-bag” Christianity where we try to engineer our spiritual lives so that are shielded from any possible harm. Yet something is happening to us as Christ’s church. We seem to have lost prophetic power because we don’t want our faith to be risky business. In North America our faith has generally become so conventional and so safe – we don’t even have to mention to others that we are Christians – that we might wonder why we should bother with it at all.

In January I listened to sociologist Reginald Bibby speak about his latest research on the church in Canada and he told us that there has been a significant shift in the past decade. He told us that until the turn of the millenium many respondents to their polls said that they were still Christian, and still saw themselves as belonging to a faith community, even if they no longer attended church regularly.

This is no longer the case. Bibby speaks of the New Polarization, where people are either in or out when it comes to faith. They are no longer feeling social pressure, nor are they tied to religious conventions. While the news Bibby offered us was rather grim in some respects, perhaps this is what we need to hear. Our Christian faith was never intended to be cozy or conventional and Jesus didn’t die on the cross because everyone thought he was a great guy. There is a costly reality to our faith which involves risk and commitment and a willingness to enter through that narrow door.

In our reading Jesus uses the rather surprising image for himself of a mother chicken, a hen with her chicks. It seems lovely at first read, but is actually an image of fierce protection. Years ago there was a series of pamphlets for children which included one about a red hen who is found burned to death after a fire in the barnyard. When the corpse of the hen is lifted from the ground several chicks are discovered, still alive, saved by their mother.

This season of Lent still asks us to respond to the Christ who saves us, through the cross, and the Christ who calls us to take up our crosses and come after him. The good news is that the an appreciation for risk and commitment and even sacrifice is built in to what it means to be human.

There are huge crowds on hand for every Olympic event and it doesn’t matter whether it is raining or snowing, they are there. They are hoping for the opportunity to burst into “O Canada” or celebrate another medal, but it is the contest itself that draws them.

And there are probably more people on each overpass along the Highway of Heroes than there are in many churches in the same area that week.

Here is the difference for us as Christians. When we follow Christ we are not spectators, we can’t just stand on the sidelines. We are active participants who along with our worship will live out what have been called the Six Acts of Mercy in Matthew 25:

Feed the hungry.

Give drink to the thirsty.

Clothe the naked.

Shelter the homeless.

Visit the sick.

Visit those in prison.

It’s unlikely that any of us will ever be challenged to actually perish for Christ, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if today, in this moment, we recommitted ourselves to live for Christ? This relationship with the Christ of mercy and justice and new life is “to die for!”