This Sunday, the lectionary invites us to ponder Luke 14:25-33. The English Standard Version supplies the heading “The Cost of Discipleship.”
Luke introduces the story by telling us that great crowds joined Jesus. Today, when we think of crowds, we think of stadiums; sports; bands; protests. Security issues. Success.
Success is what lead singers, politicians, and event managers think about. They love crowds. They hope the crowds won’t be unhappy about anything. They hope the state and the religious police won’t be unhappy. But they also worry that their next event will be less well attended.
They are like most of us. On most issues, we position ourselves like plates balanced on the edge of a table. We worry that the balance may shift, and we will fall and break. We live on the edge.
Jesus didn’t live on the edge. He kept moving. Purposefully. He knew the key to life is not moments, not events, but purposeful movement.
That’s why he spoke to the crowd. They saw that he was bold, confident, active. They loved his voice, his actions. They were his admirers. He wanted to tell them the real reason they were attracted to him.
He spoke to them. He told them they needed to understand that he was bold and confident because he was active. Because he was on a journey. A journey to be nailed to a cross.
Nailed naked to a cross as an enemy of the state. Because crucifixion was a punishment reserved for the worst criminals, for the worst disturbers of the peace, for the worst threats to the government.
Jesus wanted them to understand that if they wanted to be bold and confident, they would have to pay a price. They would have to leave everything they relied on. They would have to join him on a journey to a painful, shameful, death.
He used the most powerful images they knew: family, buildings, wars.
If they got sick or got arrested, their only support was their families: their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters. And the families depended on their societies for work and loans. If any member did something which could endanger it, the society would expect that member’s family to join in condemning him or her. If they didn’t, the society would cut them off.
Jesus told them he didn’t allow his family or society to determine what he would say or do, and if they wanted to be bold and confident and active like he was, they must do the same. He used a strong word. He said they must “hate” not only their families, but anything within them which kept reminding them of the security they could enjoy with their families.
To emphasize his point, Jesus spoke about building a tower. In those days, it was rare for anyone to build a tower. Land was relatively cheap and building sideways was cheaper – and safer – than building upwards.
In KL, we see daily the power of what Jesus said about counting the cost before beginning to build. I often pass Plaza Rakyat, which used to be KL’s main bus terminal. In the 1990s, a developer acquired the land next to it and began to build several towers. Then came the financial crisis. The money dried up.
For nearly 30 years, the site has been occupied with a festering sore, an incomplete building. Jesus’ words apply to the developer: all who see it “mock … saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish.’”
Jesus emphasized his point by giving a third example: war. He spoke of a king whose city was soon to be attacked by an approaching army. He said the king would look at the size and capability of the army, compare it with his own, and decide whether to fight or to make a deal.
We see this today in Gaza. Many Gazans think that their leaders didn’t thoroughly calculate the cost before they attacked Israel and took hostages – though now there’s more sympathy for Gaza than for Israel. But the point is, count the cost before you begin the battle. And I think Jesus deliberately chose the battle analogy – because the religious and political leaders were at war with him.
Lutherans,[1] because we emphasize “grace alone” as the criteria for acceptance with God, need to hear, and to keep before us always, the warning of the Lutheran pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was put to death by Hitler. Bonhoeffer warned of “cheap grace.” He said,
“[Cheap grace is] the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline. Communion without confession … grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ.”
When the theologian Martin Hengel was ordered to join Hitler’s army, he went into hiding. When the Jesuit priest Daniel Berrigan was taken from court to begin serving a term in prison for opposing the Vietnam war, he said: “If you are a Christian, you had better look good on wood.” [2]
How do you respond to that? How will your family respond to that? Did Jesus really say Christians must hate their families?
Peace be with you.
[1] You may wish to read my Hypocrisy, meaning, and the special calling of Lutherans. In it, I cite Luther on the importance he placed on works, and Viktor Frankl’s logotherapy. I conclude with: “I think it’s helpful to think of logotherapy as log-removal therapy.”
[2] I’m indebted to William Willimon for this example.
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