You’re all familiar with Psalm 23, I’m sure. It starts out with “The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want. In green pastures he makes me repose; he refreshes my soul.” How comforting those words are.
They are a far cry from the words we hear in today’s Gospel, aren’t they? Here, we hear Jesus declare: “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.” That sounds really harsh, doesn’t it? It’s not at all like the comforting words we hear in Psalm 23. Of course, we need to start off by addressing the translation problem. In the Aramaic language that Jesus spoke, the word that is translated into “hate” in today’s passage really means “to love a great deal less than.” We see that much better translation used in Matthew’s gospel version of this same passage, where we hear: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me. …Whoever finds his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”
Regardless of the translation, however, the message that Jesus is presenting, difficult as it may be, is at the crux of being a Christian. I’m sure you’re familiar with the word “crux.” We commonly use it in the little phrase, “the crux of the matter.” By that phrase we are usually referring to the heart of the matter, to the thing that brings us to the distinguishing feature about something, to that which reveals the core of the matter. Notice that this word “crux” is letter for letter the same word as the Latin word crux. In Latin, the word means “cross.”
So, when we talk about the crux of being a Christian, we’re not only talking about the heart of the matter, but, by using the word “crux” we are really saying that this heart of the matter of being a Christian involves something of the cross, something of feeling crucified, something that strongly suggests a painful side. This is not to say that following Jesus is always painful, but it is to say that the distinguishing feature of being a Christian will involve a painful side, for surely the crux – the cross – involves sacrifice, pain, and even death.
So what is this painful thing, this crux about which Jesus speaks here? What is it for which Jesus shockingly announces we should be willing to love father and mother, spouse, children, and all the rest of the family, and even our own lives less? What is the thing about which, as Jesus puts it a little later in today’s gospel passage, we should “count the cost”?
Jesus never tells us specifically what the crux is in today’s gospel passage. I suggest that today’s second reading does reveal this crux of the matter to us. So let’s look at that second reading now. In the touching story that the letter to Philemon tells, we have a wonderful illustration about what the crux of being a Christian is. So, what is that story? Briefly, it involves three characters: the apostle Paul, his friend named Philemon, and a slave who worked in Philemon’s house with the interesting name, Onesimus. Even though Philemon had converted and become a Christian, he continued the Roman practice of having slaves in his household. Throughout the Roman Empire there were millions of such slaves. It seems that Onesimus was accused of either mismanaging some funds or stealing something valuable from Philemon. Fearing the consequences, Onesimus ran away. Providentially, he ended up in the great city of Rome and somehow, he became acquainted there with the apostle Paul, who was imprisoned there. In his typical missionary zeal, Paul converted Onesimus to become a follower of Jesus. Paul realized, however, that he couldn’t keep Onesimus under his care indefinitely. So he advised Onesimus that the wisest course for him would be to return to his former master, Philemon. And, to soften the blow, Paul wrote a letter to Philemon; we hear a portion of it today. Notice, we hear Paul exhorting Philemon to receive his runaway slave, Onesimus, with forgiveness and love. After all, Paul reminds him, Onesimus is now a Christian and should be viewed by Philemon as a new brother in the faith.
This story reveals to us what is the crux of being a Christian. It all has to do with what Philemon here is exhorted to do: to reach out a hand of acceptance and forgiveness to someone who had sinned against him, even when, in the eyes of most, he wouldn’t have to do so. This was a painful decision, a decision involving something of the cross, no doubt, since, in his heart, when Philemon thought about Onesimus, it was probably with the idea of, “I’ll get you for this!” Here is the Christian call of accepting other persons, not because they deserve it, but because we realize Jesus died on the cross for them, too. It’s the ultimate call to overcome our desire for revenge. We all know how painful that can be. The story of Philemon is the words of Jesus: “Love your enemies … turn the other cheek” played out in real life. To carry out these words means pain for most of us.
So it is that Jesus warns in the Gospel reading, “… sit down and count the cost….” Yes, this kind of discipleship may indeed involve renouncing everything: your very self. Of course Jesus is himself the perfect example of the very thing he calls us to do. Look at his crux, that is, the climactic moment when he hung upon the cross. He was suffering excruciating pain and abandonment. But, rather than hearing him cry out for revenge, we hear him beg, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.”
Our capacity for holding grudges and nursing personal hatreds is a difficult force to overcome. We are all sinners, and that means we are held in the clutches of sin. Much of our sin takes place within the setting of human relationships. In our dealings with other people, we often find it difficult to practice understanding and love and forgiveness. Obedience to God must transcend our petty human desires and urges.
It is in this light that we can now perhaps understand what Jesus was saying in the opening verses of this Gospel reading. Remember the shocking words: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” And sometimes, it can be those who love us most – father and mother, and all the rest of the family – who jump when our “rights” are threatened, or when injustice is threatening our well-being, and stick up for us. Like Jesus did to Peter, when Peter tried to spare him the suffering and death Jesus had predicted, we might at that point have to turn our backs on the people who love us most and whom we love most, for the sake of being faithful to God’s mission. While our parents are shouting, “No one’s going to push my child around!” we may have to follow through and demonstrate a higher wisdom and a more profound love – an undeserved love, a grace so unexpected that it is amazing, indeed. This is what Jesus did when he died on the cross for us.
Because Jesus did that for us, we can live in forgiveness with all other people, even though they may not deserve it, and even when, in the eyes of most others, we could rightfully withhold forgiveness. This is the crux of being a Christian. This is the wisdom of the spirit that, as we hear in today’s first reading, through which the paths of those on earth are made straight. When we live this way, we will find ourselves in the loving embrace of our God, our good shepherd, who will lead us to green pastures in this life and welcome us into the house of the Lord where goodness and peace will be with us for all eternity.