In the Lectionary

March 16, Lent 2C (Philippians 3:17-4:1; Luke 13:31-35)

We live with a clear-eyed hope that refuses to squint in the face of suffering.

At a late summer fundraiser during the 2024 presidential campaign, President Trump expressed his preference for the Medal of Freedom (bestowed for outstanding public service) over the Medal of Honor (bestowed for bravery in combat). He lamented that the recipients of the latter are typically “in very bad shape” due to the wounds they have suffered and then went on to compliment his host—a recipient of the Medal of Freedom—for receiving her honor as a “healthy, beautiful woman.” His off-the-cuff remarks sparked rebuffs from veteran groups, but I didn’t see much critique from Christian leaders.

If there had been, this week’s reading from Philippians would have been a useful resource. Here, Paul tearfully concedes the presence of those who equate suffering with incompleteness and thus fail to fully embrace the good news of the cross. Paul’s heightened emotions are telling; they suggest that this passage is more pastoral theology than philosophical argument. Paul stands in the tradition of Jesus, who in the assigned gospel reading pours out his broken heart over Jerusalem’s “children” and yearns to shield them—“as a hen gathers her brood”—from the torments of his Passion. It is significant, I think, that in the end Jesus doesn’t try to cover their eyes.

Neither does Paul. Instead, he describes a contingent in the church of Philippi who turn away from suffering neighbors as those who “live as enemies of the cross of Christ.” Paul’s word choice is striking. These people in their midst are not intellectual opponents pitching false doctrine. They accept Christ, at least partially, while living as if his suffering has no instructional value in their lives. Paul presents himself as an alternative—not because he possesses innate superiority or secret knowledge but because he strives to live in accordance to the cruciform pattern of the Christ  hymn (2:5–11). In the hymn, we encounter Christ not only humbling himself and becoming “obedient to the point of death” but also suffering specifically on a cross. Suffering is not ancillary to Christ’s saving work but integral to it.