Sunday, September 08, 2013

Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 14
25 Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: 26 “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. 27 And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.
28 “Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it? 29 For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you, 30 saying, ‘This person began to build and wasn’t able to finish.’
31 “Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Won’t he first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? 32 If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. 33 In the same way, those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples.


It seemed like a good idea at the time: Honour the first president of the young republic with an Egyptian-style obelisk and in doing so create the tallest structure in the world.

They had $87,000. And no, that was not a lot of money in 1836. It was not a lot of money when the estimated cost was $1,000,000. But they began construction anyway, assuming that a massive obelisk being constructed in the centre of the capitol would inspire others to give. It didn’t. By 1854, the project was broke, and the options were few.

Someone hit on the idea that states and groups would feel a greater sense of ownership over the project if they were permitted to donate stones. With $200,000 from Congress, and stones appearing from across the land, the project could move forward.

Trouble began almost immediately. The donated stones were meant for the interior of the monument, and could include an inscription. So here is a sample inscription, from a group called the Templars of Honor and Temperance: "We will not buy, sell, or use as a beverage, any spiritous or malt liquors, Wine, Cider, or any other Alcoholic Liquor." I’m not seeing enough heads nodding.

Another stone was sent by Pope Pius IX, a marble stone, which was soon stolen by the leading anti-Catholic party of the day and apparently thrown into the Potomac. Congress withdrew their funds, there was a civil war, and the whole thing sat there as a giant stump for 25 years.

I could say more—including the whole Pisa problem when construction resumed—but I will leave you to Google. Nonetheless, the monument, with a visible difference in the stones at the point of delay, remains perhaps the most famous example of Luke 14.28 and following:

28 “Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it? 29 For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you, 30 saying, ‘This person began to build and wasn’t able to finish.’

The true topic is the cost of discipleship, and whether we have the inner resources available to journey with Jesus to the cross, but that would be jumping ahead. Before we get there, we need to look at Jesus’ second ‘for-instance,’ and that would be a king preparing for battle.

This of course fits with that idea that if something seems out of place or perhaps inconsistent with our picture of Jesus, it requires a second look, precisely because some later editor didn’t have the heart to take it out. It seems very odd, Jesus illustrating the cost of discipleship using a military example, but it remains one of his longest examples.

“Suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Won’t he first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand?”

Notice first that this isn’t simply a question of numbers. Jesus says “consider whether he is able with ten thousand men,’ meaning do these men have the courage to take on a larger army? Everyone listening would have immediately have thought of some of the history’s great mismatched battles: The Battle of Marathon, the Greeks outnumbered three-to-one, or perhaps Thermopylae, with 300 Spartans and a handful of Thespians (no, not actors) facing the whole of the Persian army.

In fact, the lasting historical and moral lesson of Thermopylae—courage and self-sacrifice in the face of overwhelming odds—is exactly what Jesus seems to be getting at when he shares this illustration. It was never about having enough people: it’s about the amount of heart displayed by the few people that remain. Maybe some clever congregation will rename themselves Thermopylae United Church: it would certainly get the history geeks excited.

Now some of you are thinking, ‘when is he going to get to the part about hating your family, because my brother-in-law is a real idiot.’ Wait no more, dear friends. Jesus said, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.”

Oh, that it was simple as casting selected family members in to the outer darkness. Jesus is indulging in what we commonly call a ‘hard-saying,’ a deliberate overstatement that ought to get our attention. Just as he wasn’t really advocating lobbing off limbs or putting out eyes, Jesus is arguing for perspective rather that a literal attachment to his words. I know this because near the end of his life he gives the care of his dear mother to the ‘beloved one,’ (we call him John) and he was very far from hating his family.

In fact, I might argue that the key to understanding this passage is found in the Gospel of Thomas, the so-called ‘fifth gospel’ that didn’t quite make the cut but is worth a look nevertheless. (As a matter of fact, we will be spending an evening looking at Thomas in our eighth study series, some time early next year).

In section 42, Jesus says, “Be passersby.” That’s it. That’s the whole section, and that alone may explain why the church fathers who argued for the inclusion of Thomas lost the argument. It’s a tad cryptic, even vague, but it seems to be saying, ‘don’t become too attached to the things of this world,’ or ‘be in the world but not of the world,’ or ‘when others linger over possessions or people, take the Kingdom view that some day all of this will pass away.’

I know, that’s a lot of interpretation stemming from two simple words—be passersby—but this is precisely the lesson that illustrates the cost of discipleship. Your attachments will be different, your loyalties will be different, the things that truly matter to you will be different, even your attachment to your own life will change.

In some ways, it all seems overly dramatic, or even out-of-the-blue in the developing story of Jesus found in Luke, but it is really just a continuation. As recently as chapter twelve, Jesus is sharing the very same point of non-attachment, but doing so with poetry rather than hard-sayings. Permit me to use a more poetic translation:

22 And he said unto his disciples, Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat; neither for the body, what ye shall put on.
24 Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?
27 Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
29 And seek not ye what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind.
30 For all these things do the nations of the world seek after: and your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things.
31 But rather seek ye the kingdom of God; and all these things shall be added unto you.

In effect, Jesus is asking us three questions when he looks at family, and monument building, and planning a battle: Can you detach from the things that seek to hold you? Can you finish what you started? Do you have the courage needed, to be my disciple, and follow in my way?

Jesus concludes his sermon with a simple “whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.” I say ‘Amen.’

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