How Much, In The Cold Light Of Day?
Sermon
The evangelist Billy Graham was away from home a great deal when he was in his heyday of large evangelical rallies. He tells the story of waking up one morning to be confronted by his young son, who asked, "Mummy, who's that man in bed with you?" He had been away from home so much, his own son didn't recognise him.
Christianity is free. All God's good gifts are free and are freely available to anyone, but Christian commitment does have a price. It has an individual cost, the cost of taking up the cross and following Jesus. But often it also has a more hidden cost, the price paid by family and friends.
In Billy Graham's day that hidden cost was probably hardly noticed. Or if it was noticed, was expected to be gladly born by families. It was taken for granted for instance, that clergy wives would be extensions of their husband, acting as secretary, receptionist, listener, advisor, Sunday School leader, and so on. And the clergy family tended to take second place to the needs of the parish.
Things are often very different now. Many women including clergy wives, work outside the family, and most women have much more independence than once they had. But it's still very difficult for any human being to operate in isolation, even should we wish to do so. So for all of us to some extent, our Christianity can't help but impinge on our families and friends. Mostly that's a good thing. Christian values are also good social values. If we all loved our neighbours as ourselves, society would operate much more smoothly, and wars and violence would diminish.
But to what extent does any one person have the right to impose not only their own views but also their own actions, on other people? Especially on vulnerable people, like children. If I should feel I'm called by God to serve him in Kosovo, for instance, would I have the right to subject my family to life in a war zone?
Or if parents of school age children feel called to serve God in some way in an inner city, what should they do about their children's education? Should the parents show solidarity with the local community by sending their children to the local school with a poor academic record? What message would it give to the community if their children were sent elsewhere to school? But is it fair, when parents have a choice, to bring up children in an area with drug problems, with little prospect of employment, and where criminality is rife?
How far should Christians inflict their own beliefs and chosen way of life on other people? If a wife is a churchgoer but a husband isn't or vice versa, should one partner insist as far as possible that the other joins them in church? Does a Christian in a non-churchgoing family have the right to take time out from the family for church matters, or for pastoral care of friends and neighbours? When a Christian feels called to take up his or her cross in some way which inevitably impinges on others, does he or she have the right to follow that way? Is it right to sacrifice other people for our own spiritual aspirations? How high up the scheme of Christian values is our duty towards and regard for our families and friends?
In today's passage from Luke's gospel, Jesus says that his followers must hate their immediate family members! It sounds a terrible and frightening thing to say, if it's to be taken at its face value. But Jesus is using a Jewish literary device which would be familiar to his listeners but which is unfamiliar to us in 20th century England. He's using extremes of language to make a more moderate point. He's exaggerating, in order to press home his message.
A glance at the equivalent passage in Matthew's gospel shows this quite clearly, because there Jesus is recorded as saying much more moderately, "He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." (Matthew 10:37-38). And St. John says, If anyone says, "I love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. (1 John 4:20).
Perhaps Jesus is spelling out the first commandment as forcefully as he can, emphasising that love for God is paramount. In this same passage he speaks about the need to give up all possessions saying, "none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions." There's an urgency about Jesus' words in this passage, which is perhaps because the crowds are growing so huge. Crowds invariably attract more and more people, and Jesus sounds anxious. He needs to ensure that every person there knows what to expect before they get carried away on a euphoric bandwagon and vow a commitment they'll be incapable of keeping. The people need to know life with Jesus as a disciple will be demanding. They need to know the ultimate cost for Jesus is the terrible curse of the cross. And that if they wish to become disciples rather than onlookers or seekers or supporters, they too must be prepared to take up their crosses and follow him.
No attachment to family (Luke 14:26) or possessions says Jesus, (Luke 14:33) can stand in the way of the total commitment demanded of the disciple. And acceptance of the call to be a disciple demands readiness to accept persecution and suffering (Luke 14:27) and a realistic assessment of the hardships and costs (Luke 14:28-32).
That was how it was back in the first century if you wished to join this wandering preacher and his band of followers. You would be away from home for months, and perhaps years at a time. You would be unable to carry many possessions about with you. And you would have to expect persecution and suffering, for they were cruel times and this was a new and unknown venture.
But is it the same today? Are Christians still required to "hate" their family and have no possessions? Some people would argue that this is so. Certainly those in religious communities of monks and nuns take vows to that effect. And my personal view is that the commitment demanded of a Christian is total. But for many of us here in the West, that commitment must perhaps be worked out not in terms of withdrawing from the world, from family and friends, but in working within the world. In several places in the gospels, Jesus commends his followers to work within the world (eg. Luke 16:1-9), as he himself did.
In many ways that's more difficult than complete withdrawal from the world, for we're constantly tempted to serve both God and mammon, to juggle the two and to get the best of both worlds. And when there appears to be a conflict between the needs of family or friends and the demands of God, it's never easy to decide which path to take. It's seldom easy to discern the demands of God, especially if those demands perhaps conflict with commonly accepted rules.
In the end, we're forced back onto that first commandment, 'you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength' (Mark 12:30), knowing that anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.
Christianity is free. All God's good gifts are free and are freely available to anyone, but Christian commitment does have a price. It has an individual cost, the cost of taking up the cross and following Jesus. But often it also has a more hidden cost, the price paid by family and friends.
In Billy Graham's day that hidden cost was probably hardly noticed. Or if it was noticed, was expected to be gladly born by families. It was taken for granted for instance, that clergy wives would be extensions of their husband, acting as secretary, receptionist, listener, advisor, Sunday School leader, and so on. And the clergy family tended to take second place to the needs of the parish.
Things are often very different now. Many women including clergy wives, work outside the family, and most women have much more independence than once they had. But it's still very difficult for any human being to operate in isolation, even should we wish to do so. So for all of us to some extent, our Christianity can't help but impinge on our families and friends. Mostly that's a good thing. Christian values are also good social values. If we all loved our neighbours as ourselves, society would operate much more smoothly, and wars and violence would diminish.
But to what extent does any one person have the right to impose not only their own views but also their own actions, on other people? Especially on vulnerable people, like children. If I should feel I'm called by God to serve him in Kosovo, for instance, would I have the right to subject my family to life in a war zone?
Or if parents of school age children feel called to serve God in some way in an inner city, what should they do about their children's education? Should the parents show solidarity with the local community by sending their children to the local school with a poor academic record? What message would it give to the community if their children were sent elsewhere to school? But is it fair, when parents have a choice, to bring up children in an area with drug problems, with little prospect of employment, and where criminality is rife?
How far should Christians inflict their own beliefs and chosen way of life on other people? If a wife is a churchgoer but a husband isn't or vice versa, should one partner insist as far as possible that the other joins them in church? Does a Christian in a non-churchgoing family have the right to take time out from the family for church matters, or for pastoral care of friends and neighbours? When a Christian feels called to take up his or her cross in some way which inevitably impinges on others, does he or she have the right to follow that way? Is it right to sacrifice other people for our own spiritual aspirations? How high up the scheme of Christian values is our duty towards and regard for our families and friends?
In today's passage from Luke's gospel, Jesus says that his followers must hate their immediate family members! It sounds a terrible and frightening thing to say, if it's to be taken at its face value. But Jesus is using a Jewish literary device which would be familiar to his listeners but which is unfamiliar to us in 20th century England. He's using extremes of language to make a more moderate point. He's exaggerating, in order to press home his message.
A glance at the equivalent passage in Matthew's gospel shows this quite clearly, because there Jesus is recorded as saying much more moderately, "He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." (Matthew 10:37-38). And St. John says, If anyone says, "I love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. (1 John 4:20).
Perhaps Jesus is spelling out the first commandment as forcefully as he can, emphasising that love for God is paramount. In this same passage he speaks about the need to give up all possessions saying, "none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions." There's an urgency about Jesus' words in this passage, which is perhaps because the crowds are growing so huge. Crowds invariably attract more and more people, and Jesus sounds anxious. He needs to ensure that every person there knows what to expect before they get carried away on a euphoric bandwagon and vow a commitment they'll be incapable of keeping. The people need to know life with Jesus as a disciple will be demanding. They need to know the ultimate cost for Jesus is the terrible curse of the cross. And that if they wish to become disciples rather than onlookers or seekers or supporters, they too must be prepared to take up their crosses and follow him.
No attachment to family (Luke 14:26) or possessions says Jesus, (Luke 14:33) can stand in the way of the total commitment demanded of the disciple. And acceptance of the call to be a disciple demands readiness to accept persecution and suffering (Luke 14:27) and a realistic assessment of the hardships and costs (Luke 14:28-32).
That was how it was back in the first century if you wished to join this wandering preacher and his band of followers. You would be away from home for months, and perhaps years at a time. You would be unable to carry many possessions about with you. And you would have to expect persecution and suffering, for they were cruel times and this was a new and unknown venture.
But is it the same today? Are Christians still required to "hate" their family and have no possessions? Some people would argue that this is so. Certainly those in religious communities of monks and nuns take vows to that effect. And my personal view is that the commitment demanded of a Christian is total. But for many of us here in the West, that commitment must perhaps be worked out not in terms of withdrawing from the world, from family and friends, but in working within the world. In several places in the gospels, Jesus commends his followers to work within the world (eg. Luke 16:1-9), as he himself did.
In many ways that's more difficult than complete withdrawal from the world, for we're constantly tempted to serve both God and mammon, to juggle the two and to get the best of both worlds. And when there appears to be a conflict between the needs of family or friends and the demands of God, it's never easy to decide which path to take. It's seldom easy to discern the demands of God, especially if those demands perhaps conflict with commonly accepted rules.
In the end, we're forced back onto that first commandment, 'you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength' (Mark 12:30), knowing that anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.
