Friday was just another day, right? Of course, there was some news, but really, how much can go wrong in a single day? Roe v. Wade.

I was at a press conference yesterday at Injustice Square—an appropriate place to gather for faith leaders to speak out about the new world we live in after Friday’s Supreme Court decision.

One of the speakers from the Buddhist collective was an older woman, sitting in one of those walkers that doubles as a seat. She talked about her fury, about how she’d worked over fifty years ago to give women and pregnant people the freedom they need to make their own healthcare decisions. And now, in one day … gone.

And it’s not just reproductive justice. I’ve been in contact with so many people in the past two days who are now afraid they won’t be able to choose their own form of contraception, who are afraid that the people they love—because they’re the “wrong” people—will soon be taken away from them.

But, I mean, it’s just one day, right? Can’t be that big a deal, can it?

If we didn’t know before, we sure know now that the whole world can change in an instant, the result of one decision.

Luke knows how much can ride on a single decision. Pivotal. That’s what it is. Pivotal. This unremarkable little passage in Luke’s gospel is the fulcrum on which Luke’s narrative turns. Everything is about to change for Jesus and the folks who follow him.

It’s kind of hard to see if you don’t know what you’re looking for. But think for a moment about what’s going on with Jesus in Luke’s story.

Up to this point in Luke, Jesus meets a variety of people, heals some of them, and infuriates others. He’s calmed storms, done some teaching, cast out demons.

All in all, Jesus’ ministry to this point has been eventful by almost any standard. The only thing lacking, at least according to the way Luke tells it, is direction. Jesus has been wandering about—if not aimlessly, then certainly without any particular regard for a destination.

At the beginning of our chapter for this morning, Jesus sends out the twelve; we don’t know where, but like children turned out of the house on a nice summer day, Jesus wants the disciples to get outside a little.

“It’s nice out there. You’re not spending your summer in here watching TV and playing Nintendo. Go on. Out!”

“Take nothing for your journey,” Jesus tells them, “no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money—not even an extra tunic. Whatever house you enter, stay there, and leave from there.  Wherever they do not welcome you, as you are leaving that town shake the dust off your feet as a testimony against them” (9:3-5).

When the disciples returned, Luke says, Jesus fed the five thousand, predicted his death, and was—with Moses and Elijah—transfigured on the mountain. He then proceeded to heal a boy with a demon and foretell his death yet again; by which time, of course, we are just about where our text for this morning picks up.

Now, I say that our Gospel lesson this morning is different from all that precedes it in Luke because formerly in Jesus’ ministry there was no apparent direction toward which he was headed. But in verse 51, Luke tells us—with no small amount of dramatic presentiment—that Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem.”

After all these years, we know what happens to Jesus in Jerusalem. Like the creepy music in a scary movie, Luke sets the stage for all that’s to come after this point by mentioning Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem—where he will “be taken up.”

Everything from this point forward in Luke derives its meaning from what is ultimately going to happen to Jesus on the cross.

Jesus is headed toward his death. So all the parables he tells, all the healings he does, all the questions he answers have his impending crucifixion as their backdrop. Luke intends for his readers to see the remaining accounts through the prism of the cross.

Our text today begins with the momentous change of direction toward Jerusalem, and once again Jesus sends his disciples out—this time to a Samaritan village—to make preparation for his arrival.