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Since the road we
call "Lent" ends in Jerusalem….and since what
comes to an end in Jerusalem is far more bloody than it is
pretty….this is
buckle-up-the-boots-and-get-serious-about-the- journey time,
especially if it’s the "Jesus Road" we’re
traveling. Which may explain the harsh tone of the speech
here.
Our text begins
with the observation that there are "great multitudes
following Jesus." How many is that? You tell me. I mean,
the Bible doesn’t tell me. So your word is pretty much as
good as anybody’s.
Certainly,
"great multitudes" means "more than a
few." And not all of them, equally committed. Some are
signed for the duration. Others are merely joyriding. There’s
a world of difference between the consecrated and the curious.
Get a group of people surging down Maple Road and I’d go two
or three blocks with anybody (just to find out what was going
on). But I don’t know how much further I’d go if someone
turned around, stared me down, and said: "If anyone
follows me and does not hate his own mother and father, wife
and children, brothers and sisters, he cannot be my
disciple." No, I don’t know how much further I’d go
after a speech like that.
Those would be
fighting words to me. To you too, I suppose. And assuming
Jesus uttered them, they must have been fighting words to
those who heard them then. Meaning that they didn’t rest
easy on the ear. For while Matthew and Luke got them from the
same source, Matthew (who never softened anything) softened
them….taking out the words "he who does not hate"
and substituting "he who loves father and mother more
than me." But most everybody agrees that Luke’s
rendering is primary while Matthew’s is secondary….meaning
that "hate" is the word Luke wanted and
"hate" is the word Luke used. If you’ve got a
Bible with a watered-down translation, chances are pretty good
that your version is wrong. Less offensive, maybe. More
palatable, to be sure. But still wrong. "You want to
follow me," said Jesus, "you’d better be prepared
to hate family."
I don’t like
hearing that. I don’t like saying that. Nobody else likes it
much, either. Even the scholars who translated it correctly,
apologized for it profusely. William Barclay (who is right
more often than most) says: "We must not take the words
of Jesus with cold and unimaginative literalness. Eastern
language is always as vivid as the human mind can make it.
When Jesus tells us to hate our nearest and dearest, he does
mean that literally. He means that no other love in life can
compare with the love we give to him."
While George
Buttrick says: "The word ‘hate’ repels. It is a
staggering word, but it was intended to stagger. The word
means that we are to act ‘as if’ we hate our loved ones
whenever the claims of home come into conflict with the claims
of Jesus." I take that to mean that if you are convinced
Jesus is calling you into ministry while your daddy is calling
you into dentistry, you’ve got conflicting claims between
home and Jesus.
To which Joseph
Fitzmyer (Luke’s primary translator) says: "In most
cases, the love of Jesus and the love of parents are not
likely to be incompatible….and to hate one’s parents, as
such, would be monstrous. But Christ’s followers must be
ready, if necessary, to act toward those dearest to them as if
they were objects of hatred."
You see, even
those who know the text best, dance around it most. Not just
because they hate the word "hate," but because they
love the word "family." As do we all. I can’t
imagine a more cherished institution than the family. People
get elected to public office on pro-family platforms. Churches
have Family Night suppers and build Family Life Centers
(bigger, in square footage, than their sanctuaries). And while
few of us are violent by nature, most of us would become so,
were it necessary to protect our family. Blood is thick. We’ll
fight family. We’ll even hurt family. Until someone else
tries to fight or hurt family. Then we’ll fight them. I once
heard somebody say: "I can say that to my brother, but
you can’t say that to my brother. Them’s fighting
words."
But it is also
true that just as the family is the source of our greatest
blessing, the family is (sometimes) the source of our greatest
damage. Most psychiatrists will tell you that. So will veteran
preachers who have been around long enough to hear the horror
stories of the really dysfunctional families and have fallen
to their knees, not only to pray, but to help sweep up the
pieces. I have heard it said….especially in communities like
this one….that there are families who give too much. And I
have also heard it said….especially in communities like this
one….that there are families who ask too much. William
Willimon (Duke University) writes:
I have decided,
since coming to the university and working with young
people, that one of the greatest gifts a parent can give a
child is the reassurance that all of the parent’s hopes,
dreams and aspirations are not resting upon that child.
Whenever the parent complains to the child that "I gave
you…. (therefore) you owe me," that family has
failed. And one of the greatest gifts children can give
parents (if and when they grow up) is the reassurance that
their development is not totally dependent on the competency
(or blamelessness) of the parents.
Still, for reasons
that often take years (at the rate of $135 per hour) to
unravel, not everybody who starts in a family, finishes in a
family. Nor does everyone who craves one, get one. Like the
eunuch that Phillip meets in Acts 8:26-40. He is Ethiopian,
African and sexless….cut off (literally) from any
possibility of children, and from any possible place in the
temple. For in Deuteronomy 23:1, we read that "a eunuch
shall not enter the assembly of the Lord." Which means
that there will be no family for him, biologically or
ecclesiastically. He has been to Jerusalem. But Jerusalem
would not let him in. Leading me to wonder what it’s like,
when you knock on the doors of Mother Church, and even Mother
Church says (however quietly): "No, no, no, no."
But Phillip meets
him in the desert, where he is sitting in his chariot reading
a scroll. And somewhere in the conversation, Phillip makes a
connection for the Ethiopian between the words he is reading
and the Word who is Jesus. Leading the Ethiopian to request
baptism. And leading Phillip to mutter: "They were upset
in Jerusalem when I baptized those Samaritans. They’re
probably gonna kill me for this."
Well, baptism was
a moot point, given that they were in a desert. And where are
you going to find water in a desert? Which was when the eunuch
said: "Look, here is water." And right there in the
desert, a white man baptized a black man….a Jew baptized an
Ethiopian….and a follower of Jesus baptized a eunuch. Who,
through baptism, found a new family. What’s the point? Try
this. Maybe at the end of the day….or even in the heat of
the day….water (baptismal water) is thicker than blood. And
could it be….I mean, could it possibly be….that this was
what Jesus was getting at on the road, when he said something
like: "You know, if you’re going to follow me, the day
may come when some hard decisions have to be made about which
family takes priority."
But, as if that
isn’t hard enough, we plunge straight into this advisory
about cost accounting: "Don’t start what you can’t
finish." Tally up the task….the demands of it….the
duration of it….your passion for it.…your commitment to it….the
resources you bring to it. And then ask, can you do it….clean
through to the end of it?
Then Jesus gives
not one example, but two. The first concerns a man whose plan
it was to build a tower. But he came up short. Either he
lacked bricks….money to buy bricks….talent to lay bricks….or
a ladder to lift bricks. So that when he was done, all he had
was a tower base but no elevation. And everybody laughed at
him, saying: "Did you ever see such a stupid man?"
Or what of a king,
said Jesus, who declared war on a rival king, only to discover
(after a season of saber rattling) that the rival king had two
swordsmen for every one of his. Wouldn’t he hurry to the
peace table rather than blunder into a bloodbath?
Well, that makes
sense. At least it rings true with my experience. "Son,
don’t start what you can’t finish," my father said
(concerning a task he was about to lay before me).
"Ritter, don’t start what you can’t finish,"
Charlie Robertson said (that day outside the paper station)
concerning a whipping he was about to lay on me.
Planning is good.
Careful planning is better. When Tony Shipley was my district
superintendent, every piece of letterhead that came out of the
district office said: "If you fail to plan, you plan to
fail." Which made sense.
Before coming
here, I worked on a pair of building campaigns with
professional fundraisers. Following one of those campaigns,
they actually turned around and offered me a job. Obviously, I
didn’t take it. But I thought about it.
As you can well
imagine, professional fundraisers don’t come cheap. And I’ve
yet to meet a church board or finance committee that didn’t
balk at paying the cost. I can hear the refrain today:
"Why should we give these people thousands of dollars
that could be put to better use in the building?" But the
selling point that turned things in the fundraiser’s favor
was the information that professionals, hired from the
outside, meet their goal in 95 percent of the churches they
serve.
Which is true. But
not for the reasons you might think. Their success has more to
do with cost accounting than creative marketing. That’s
because they never let you set a goal you can’t reach. And
they have sophisticated, time-tested formulas for determining
what that base number is. I know a lot of those formulas. I
won’t go into them here. But my point is that their success
has more to do with their prior calculation of a church’s
capability than with the merits of the case, the tenor of the
times or the generosity of the membership. They reach what
they go after because they won’t let you go after more than
you can get.
Jesus said:
"Don’t start out on a journey you can’t
complete." Don’t put yourself in a position where
people are going to laugh at you. Or ridicule you. In other
words, don’t enlist impulsively.
Which sounds like
my father. Which sounds like my district superintendent. Which
sounds like my fundraiser friends. But which, I am sorry, does
not sound like Jesus. In virtually every encounter Jesus has
with people, he seems to invite followers, right then and
there. I seldom hear him say:
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Why don’t
you go home and think about it?
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Why don’t
you talk it over with several of your friends?
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Why not take
these papers and have your attorney finesse the fine
print?
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Why not give
it a year and let it sink in?
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Why not
proceed cautiously, lest your present enthusiasm cloud
your judgment?
No, I don’t hear
that from the lips of Jesus. Instead, he calls disciples who
"straightaway" leave their nets and follow. Then he
adds words about not looking over your shoulder….not going
back to settle affairs….and, for God’s sake, not even
going back home to bury the dead. The message seems to be:
"Do it now, while the spirit is on you, or while the
Spirit is in you." In the making of Christians, there is
something to be said for study and reflection. But there is
something even greater to be said for passion and urgency.
Neither Jesus nor the church has, as its primary message:
"Hey, take your time, we’ll be here when you get it all
figured out." We will. But that’s not our primary
message. Instead, we say: "Every journey starts with a
first step. And you will never get it figured out until you
take a first step."
No, I can’t see
Jesus raising the yellow flag of caution. Can’t see it at
all. So what is all this business about, anyway?
Well, I’ve been
helped by a quartet of commentators here (especially Joseph
Parker and William Barclay). But most especially by Ernest
Campbell who asks:
Could it be that
the underlying concern is not with our ability to finish the
job, but with God’s? It would appear that Jesus is saying:
"You wouldn’t start a tower you couldn't finish. You
wouldn’t wage a war you couldn’t win. Of course you
wouldn’t. Well, neither would God. God has the plans to
win….the stuff to win….the will to win….and God will
win."
Jesus preached a
Kingdom that is obtainable here (in part) and attainable
eventually (in full). As for the Kingdom, it’s both here and
coming, he said. Then he added (in effect): "And when my
time on earth is finished, the cause will go on. Don’t sweat
it." To which Campbell adds:
God has not
vacated. God is not dead. God did not enter the fray in
order to settle for a tie with evil. God has the means to
win. And God means to win. There will be no unfinished
towers in the annals of the kingdom. Neither will there be
any unwon war chargeable to God. Let’s not waste even one
more box of Kleenex on the Almighty. Of the many things God
asks from us in scripture….our loyalty and our love….our
prayers and our trust….our obedience and our faithfulness….there
is not even one place in the Old or New Testament where God
asks our pity.
So, to whatever
degree you may possess a cost accountant’s mentality….adding
up pluses and minuses….credits and debits….assets and
liabilities….go versus stay….stand versus sit…. follow
versus fall back….the one thing you need to factor in is not
whether you are able (in spite of your love for the hymn of
the same name), but whether God is able.
To which the
burden of this passage….and of my preaching….is to suggest
that the answer is a resounding "Yes." To be sure, I
could save this dosage of theological adrenaline for Easter
Sunday. But given the sorry state of our national confidence,
if I don’t give you a shot of it now, you may not be
anywhere near Jerusalem and the empty tomb by March 28.
Thirty-three years
ago, on or about July 20 (but who’s counting?), they said to
me: "Come on up and preach in Paradise." I went. It
wasn’t. Haven’t been back since. But I know there’s a
road that goes there.
So, too, with the
Kingdom of God. Long road. Hard road. Pothole-filled road. But
if my map’s correct….and I truly believe it is….it’s
paved all the way.
Note: I am
indebted to several persons for the development of this
sermon. Will Willimon offered a most fruitful discussion of
Acts 8:26-40 (Phillip and the Ethiopian eunuch) in his book, Peculiar
Speech: Preaching to the Baptized. Ernest Campbell
turned the Luke passage on its head for me in a book entitled Locked
in a Room with Open Doors. William Barclay offered his
helpful commentary in the series of books attributed to his
name, while George Buttrick and Joseph Fitzmyer shared their
insights in commentaries on Luke in the Interpreter’s Bible
and Anchor Bible Series, respectively.
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