And yet, we hear Jesus say this in the Gospel today: “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” Jesus’s words are startling, and they are meant to be so; they are meant to surprise us, make us uncomfortable, and prompt us to ask, “What could Jesus possibly mean?” Now, of course, Jesus doesn’t literally mean that we should hate our loved ones, in the sense that we would bear malice against them. In other places in the Gospels, Jesus talks about the importance of caring for elderly parents, and we know from the letters of St. Paul that love for one’s family was important for early Christians. But Jesus does know that “blood runs thicker than water” – he knows that family is the most important thing to us. And so, it’s for just that reason that he uses hyperbole to show that to be his disciple, we must be devoted to him before anything else, even to the blood relations that mean so much to us. To follow Christ, one must be single-minded, unwavering, such that anything else – even our relationship to family – pales in comparison.
Why does Jesus feel the need to talk this way? If you notice, the Gospel passage begins by saying that “great crowds were traveling with Jesus.” No doubt many had been attracted to Jesus because of his striking message and the miracles he performed. Perhaps Jesus senses though that many who were following him were doing so half-heartedly, curious to see what he would do or say next but not necessarily really buying in. Or perhaps they thought they knew what discipleship meant but were mistaken about what it was really going to take.
Thus, the reason for our passage today. Jesus wants to make it perfectly clear that being his disciple requires more than merely physically follow him around. Or, speaking in today’s terms, we might say that to really live as a Christian requires more than merely calling yourself one, more than merely having a vague notion that the teachings of Jesus are important and we need to follow them. If Jesus knew that many of those who were physically following him around were not really up to doing what it would really take to be his disciple, how much more so that might be true for some today who call themselves Christian but who really aren’t living that identity out in any meaningful way, who really haven’t given up anything to follow the Lord, whether possessions, or blood relations, or even one’s own sins. To follow Christ means to sacrifice something important, something precious. If blood runs thicker than water, it’s going to be blood that he asks for.
Discipleship always has a cost. In my time as a priest, I have found that most of us know that we are going to have to give up a little something to follow Jesus. Maybe we are willing to give up a little bit of our time or treasure to be a part of the Church community; maybe we are willing to be a little more understanding, or forgiving, or a little less gluttonous, or lustful, or slothful; maybe we are willing to spend a little more time in prayer or in service to our neighbor. But sooner or later, it inevitably happens that we come up against something truly costly – something where our Christian faith asks us to do something and we think, “Whoa, I’m not sure I can do that.” Maybe it is “I’m not sure I can forgive that person,” or “I’m not sure I can give up that sin,” or “I’m not sure I can really give of myself to that person or that community in the way they’re asking me.” And 99% of the time, that’s precisely what we are being called to do. That’s the moment when we discover the true cost of following Jesus – that’s the moment that all of that other stuff that we thought we were doing to follow Jesus pales in comparison in that moment, and we confront the fact that it is this thing or this person or this situation that really shows us what being a Christian is going to take.
Anthony van Dyck, Christ Crucified with the Virgin, Saint John, and Mary Magdalene (c. 1619)
Jesus uses a particular image in today’s Gospel to show what it will cost to be his disciple: “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” That image of carrying a cross has probably lost some of its power for us, but it would have been a shocking one to those crowds listening to Jesus. The cross was an instrument of torture and humiliation; it meant utter rejection on the part of the world, utter abandonment and isolation. Yet long before Jesus ever steps foot in Jerusalem he begins using the image of the Cross to describe the high bar of discipleship – of whether one is living as a friend of Jesus or not.
Let’s consider a particular example of the kind of cross that discipleship might present. In the second reading today, St. Paul is writing to his friend Philemon, a fellow Christian and someone of importance. Paul is writing to him about another man, Onesimus, who had once been Philemon’s slave and who had now himself become a Christian. It’s clear from the letter that there was some tension or past grievance between Philemon and Onesimus; maybe Onesimus ran away from his master, or maybe there was some other kind of falling out between them. Paul is writing to ask Philemon to forgive Onesimus and welcome him back, not as a slave but as an equal. For Paul, what matters is not the dispute that Philemon and Onesimus have, but the fact that they have shared in the waters of baptism and have partaken of the same Body and Blood of the Lord. Whatever their past animosity, they are now fellow brothers in Christ.
If that doesn’t sound so difficult, then consider this: Paul sends this letter to Philemon via Onesimus himself. In essence, he’s asking Philemon to consider the meaning of his discipleship right there on the spot – he’s asking him to forgive his former slave as he stands right in front of him, to swallow his pride or anger or whatever other social or moral grievance he might be feeling toward Onesimus, and forgive him, even embrace him, as his equal. And Paul asks something just as hard of Onesimus, maybe even harder – he asks him, as a former slave, to go back to his previous owner, someone that he doesn’t know will forgive him, someone who may well put him back into slavery, or throw him into prison, or worse. We don’t know how exactly things resolved between Philemon and Onesimus. But the fact that this letter has a treasured place in our Christian Scriptures, and the fact that we honor both Philemon and Onesimus as saints, suggests that were able to be reconciled, to forgive and be forgiven. Undoubtedly, it was very difficult; perhaps to do so went against every all of their instincts and impulses, except what their Christian faith told them. But that’s the sacrifice of discipleship – that’s what it cost them to follow Jesus.
Friends, we all have to sacrifice something to follow the Lord, and not just something common or convenient. In fact, at times we will be asked to give up what we treasure the most, to do what seems like the most difficult thing to do. Why? Because Jesus is remaking the world, he’s remaking reality in his own image. Nothing is more sacred than family – and Jesus is forming a new family, one bound not by blood relationships but by discipleship, by the blood and water that flowed from the side of Christ, that comes to us in the sacraments. The Church is the family of those who carry the Cross, who prefer nothing to the love of Christ.
What cross are you being asked to take up and carry? What is it costing you to be a friend of Jesus? St. Paul asked Philemon and Onesimus to set aside their differences to come together as brothers in the Church, to let go of whatever a blood feud might have demanded so that they could share fraternally in the Body and Blood of the Lord. As we prepare to partake of the same Sacrament of the Altar, let’s ask the Lord to help us recognize what being his disciples is going to cost us and find the strength in this Eucharist to accept that cost with joyful hearts.
Let’s consider a particular example of the kind of cross that discipleship might present. In the second reading today, St. Paul is writing to his friend Philemon, a fellow Christian and someone of importance. Paul is writing to him about another man, Onesimus, who had once been Philemon’s slave and who had now himself become a Christian. It’s clear from the letter that there was some tension or past grievance between Philemon and Onesimus; maybe Onesimus ran away from his master, or maybe there was some other kind of falling out between them. Paul is writing to ask Philemon to forgive Onesimus and welcome him back, not as a slave but as an equal. For Paul, what matters is not the dispute that Philemon and Onesimus have, but the fact that they have shared in the waters of baptism and have partaken of the same Body and Blood of the Lord. Whatever their past animosity, they are now fellow brothers in Christ.
If that doesn’t sound so difficult, then consider this: Paul sends this letter to Philemon via Onesimus himself. In essence, he’s asking Philemon to consider the meaning of his discipleship right there on the spot – he’s asking him to forgive his former slave as he stands right in front of him, to swallow his pride or anger or whatever other social or moral grievance he might be feeling toward Onesimus, and forgive him, even embrace him, as his equal. And Paul asks something just as hard of Onesimus, maybe even harder – he asks him, as a former slave, to go back to his previous owner, someone that he doesn’t know will forgive him, someone who may well put him back into slavery, or throw him into prison, or worse. We don’t know how exactly things resolved between Philemon and Onesimus. But the fact that this letter has a treasured place in our Christian Scriptures, and the fact that we honor both Philemon and Onesimus as saints, suggests that were able to be reconciled, to forgive and be forgiven. Undoubtedly, it was very difficult; perhaps to do so went against every all of their instincts and impulses, except what their Christian faith told them. But that’s the sacrifice of discipleship – that’s what it cost them to follow Jesus.
Friends, we all have to sacrifice something to follow the Lord, and not just something common or convenient. In fact, at times we will be asked to give up what we treasure the most, to do what seems like the most difficult thing to do. Why? Because Jesus is remaking the world, he’s remaking reality in his own image. Nothing is more sacred than family – and Jesus is forming a new family, one bound not by blood relationships but by discipleship, by the blood and water that flowed from the side of Christ, that comes to us in the sacraments. The Church is the family of those who carry the Cross, who prefer nothing to the love of Christ.
What cross are you being asked to take up and carry? What is it costing you to be a friend of Jesus? St. Paul asked Philemon and Onesimus to set aside their differences to come together as brothers in the Church, to let go of whatever a blood feud might have demanded so that they could share fraternally in the Body and Blood of the Lord. As we prepare to partake of the same Sacrament of the Altar, let’s ask the Lord to help us recognize what being his disciples is going to cost us and find the strength in this Eucharist to accept that cost with joyful hearts.
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