Sermon for September 4, 2022 – 13th Sunday after Pentecost
What are you willing to give up for your faith? How far are you prepared to go to follow Jesus? January of 2011 was an exceptional month for me. I had just received my undergraduate diploma in the mail, bringing to a joyful end a journey that had started some ten years earlier. I will never forget my mother’s face as she tearfully beamed with pride and joy as she held that piece of paper in her hands. The tears streaming down her eyes. The excitement in her voice as she tried speak through those tears. The tight hug. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy. She knew what I had endured, the challenges I faced in order to receive that diploma. She knew that this piece of paper opened the door to the next part of my journey.
In that same month I also received word that I had been accepted into the ordination process to become a priest. After years of setbacks, false starts, and failures I felt as if I was heading in the right direction. I felt that I was finally following my call from God.
On a cold snowy Boston afternoon, I sat in the downtown office of the Bishop of Massachusetts overlooking the state house. During a very short meeting, Bishop Tom told me that he wanted to me to go to seminary in Berkeley, California. I was dumbstruck. I thought, “Surely I will got to seminary in NYC or in Alexandria, just outside Washington DC, but no. In my mind, Bishop Tom wanted me to basically take a three year working vacation to coastal California??? Oh, no, twist my arm. I left his office and was excited for the prospect of spending the next three years in California, especially as the cold wind whipped across my face. In that moment my heart was on fire and I was preparing to leave my life behind to follow Jesus call on my heart.
In the months that followed I tied up all the loose ends of my affairs. I left my job, said goodbye to lifelong friends, and the time came to say goodbye to my family. That's when it hit me, the realization of the cost of my call to follow Christ. The cost of my discipleship meant I had to leave behind everything that marked my identity; leave the city I was raised in, say goodbye friends and family, and blindly follow God into the unknown. My future lay on the other side of the country, where I had no safety net, no friends, no family support. By letting go of everything I was essentially alone, ready to create new relationships along the way as I ventured into this new horizon. It was not easy, and it was scary at times but that is all part of the journey. Looking back on it now, in order for me to be the best priest I could be I needed to let go of all that might hold me back. I like to think Bishop Tom knew that. Jesus certainly knew that. To realize the fullness of God’s claim on my life I had to pay dearly.
In our gospel story today, Jesus is with a large crowd who have been journeying with him for a while. They have been hearing his teachings, watching him perform miracles, being fed and filled. Instead of the usual reassuring promise of hope in the coming Kingdom, he offers us something all together different. Jesus lays bare for us the true cost of discipleship.
This passage from Luke’s gospel offends against the values which we hold dear. Jesus tells us that a disciple must hate their family and friends, and all that they possess. In this context "hate" is an expression meaning "to turn away from, to detach oneself from," rather than our animosity-laden understanding. So, Jesus is telling his followers that they must let go of all their attachments to make God the primary orientation of their lives.
Now, we can take this message quite literally, like many of the saints who have renounced the distractions of their lives in order to follow Jesus; saints like Francis and the desert mothers and fathers. Or we can be like Saint Theresa of Calcutta whose relatively new feast day is tomorrow. She was someone that people sought out specifically because of her faith, but what they did not see was her struggle. Throughout her life she bore a cross of faithlessness, spiritual isolation, and personal suffering. Despite this suffering she ran the race of perseverance. She offered herself to the glory and joy of God in order to help relieve the suffering of others.
Our attachments can get in the way. Our inner desires can get in the way. The very things by which we draw our sense of identity in our world, get in the way. Even our family, the ones we love most can get in the way. We are asked to strip away all that we hold dear, all that we possess to find a new identity. This identity in God is not as mother or father, sister or brother, friend or enemy, rich or poor; these act as markers of our identity in relation to each other. We are challenged to shed these markers of identity in order to be free from their potentially corrupting powers. To follow the way of Jesus, the way of truth and life, comes with a personal cost. Something is expected from us as we walk this path of discipleship.
When we choose to participate in building up the reign of God, restoring the world, changing lives, ministering to the outcasts, we become a dividing presence. When we choose to undertake this outlandish and over the top mission of helping Jesus transform the world through evangelism, mission, and outreach we will automatically begin to feel the pressure of being different; people will take notice.
Jesus says we need to consider the cost to one’s own life, literally he means one’s own soul. To walk the way of love is to bear our own cross. We must personally accept our role as followers, personally count the cost, just as the tower builder did and set off on the journey. As we near Jerusalem and to the cross of our salvation, Jesus is challenging us to follow, and wants us to be clear and honest with ourselves about the cost of this journey. Discipleship is not just one more hobby or extra-curricular activity, it is a way of life.
Carrying your cross is a choice and ironically, it is a choice for life and not death. Jesus demands that we give up the very best and most important things in our lives in order to follow him so that we can offer the entirety of ourselves, our souls and bodies as our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. In doing so we are choosing a new life in Christ.
It is here that the image of a potter and his clay becomes instructive for us, just as it was relevant to the ancient Israelites; especially as we think about being molded by the hands of God, the divine potter. We are held in God’s hands, and we have the choice as to what kind of clay we want to be. Are you the spoiled clay? Or are you willing to molded again and again, being refined each time? Are you willing to enter into a constant cycle of taking on, and letting go, all the while remaining flexible to respond to the movement of the Holy Spirit?
As we begin a new year in the life of our parish I am asking you to make a choice; to offer your time, your talent, your treasure to the glory of God through this place, to bare your cross, to choose God. I am asking you to take an honest reflective look at your life to perhaps see a new path of engagement, a new way to grow in faith, to go deeper, to push yourself further, to take the next step. Today God is also asking for your life. Choosing to mature and grow in life and faith means choosing suffering because maturity is a process of both loss and gain. We die to ourselves and all that we hold dear, so that we may be born again in Christ.
In this new year what will you choose? Are you prepared to find freedom in surrender? How far are you prepared to go to follow Jesus?
