How much does it cost? What’s the bottom line?
These are familiar questions in our culture. Frequently, our decisions on a daily basis will lead us to ask one of these questions: How much does it cost? What’s the bottom line? We live in a culture which constantly barrages us with messages about how to spend our time and money— messages about where to invest, where to shop,and what to buy. Is it any wonder then, that when it comes to matters of faith, many of us would like to have a little break from the endless cost-analysis of our daily lives. And for good reason. After all, don’t we believe in a God who offers salvation to all? A gift offered to us free of charge whether we are rich or poor-- regardless of skin color or nationality, economic status or education. We proclaim in our prayers that there is nothing we can do to make God love us less, and nothing we can do to make God love us more. God just loves us-- as we are. And so perhaps it stops us in our tracks a little bit to read passages like the one we heard this morning in Luke’s gospel, where Jesus tells his disciples that to follow in his footsteps does indeed have a significant cost. There is in fact something profound required of us if we want to be disciples of Christ.
In some ways, it’s a troubling passage. Jesus says that we are to “hate” our father and mother, our brothers and sisters, even our own children! We must be willing to take up the cross, Jesus says. So how do we reconcile these seemingly harsh demands with what we’ve come to believe about God’s offer of unconditional love and grace?
Reverend Joseph Harvard notes the paradoxical nature of this question in the following story:
A woman is walking by a church. The words on the marquee capture her attention: “come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” The invitation was appealing to her because she was tired. Not only was she physically tired, she was spiritually tired. She was looking for rest for her soul. But no sooner had the door shut behind her and she had taken a seat than she heard: “Take up your cross and follow me.”
We come to church seeking comfort, Reverend Harvard says, and we encounter a call to discipleship. A profound challenge to the very comfort we seek. What are we to make of this apparent contradiction?
One clue to the answer to this question, I believe, can be found in the reading from the Hebrew Scriptures that we heard this morning. In our reading from Genesis, God makes a covenant with Abraham— a promise to be with Abraham and his descendants from everlasting to everlasting. The key word here is covenant. A covenant is more than just a simple promise-- a one-way declaration made from one party to another. A covenant is an agreement in which both parties share responsibility. It requires some form of committment from all involved. God promises God’s steadfast love to Abraham and Sarah’s descendants from generation to generation, and from everlasting to everlasting. In exchange, God asks Abraham for obedience and faithfulness— a willingness to put God first at all times.
In our gospel reading for today, Jesus reiterates that call for obedience. Perhaps Jesus’ words seem harsh to us, but I don’t think Jesus is trying to discourage his listeners by making impossible demands. In telling his disciples that they must “hate” their fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters, and children, Jesus is using hyperbole in order to indicate that obedience to God is not something to be taken lightly. Jesus’ words remind us that in the midst of so many competing claims for our attention and loyalty, we are to put God first. We are to remember that we are indeed part of a covenant-- a covenant that requires something of us-- a covenant that asks us to enter into a relationship of mutual responsibility and accountability with our God.
So what does this covenantal responsibility to God actually look like? Is it simply that we go to church every Sunday? Is it showing up for Sunday school? Is it diligently reading scripture and making time for prayer? I think it is all of these things, but I think there is also something deeper to go along with it. The great commandment-- given by God to Moses and reiterated by Christ-- is one we all know well: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your mind, and all your strength; and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. It is this commandment, I believe, that is at the heart of our covenantal relationship with God. To love God with all our heart, mind, and strength means that we must allow ourselves to be ruled by our love of God-- to allow ourselves to be changed by it. God’s offer of love and grace is indeed free and unconditional. But the nature of that love and grace is that if we truly accept it, we allow ourselves to become new creations in Christ. Theologian and ethicist Emilie Townes puts it this way: “at the heart of discipleship is transformation. The cost of discipleship... is engaging in a profoundly radical shift towards the ethics of Jesus with every fiber of our being.” To accept God’s gift of love and grace is to let our lives be interrupted by it. And like it or not, that interruption often takes the form of other people. Perhaps this is why the great commandment has two parts, and why they are truly inseparable. Love of God means love of neighbor. Every act of love towards a neighbor is a manifestation of our love of God. Every act of love towards a neighbor is an act of living into our covenant with God.
This leads rather conveniently into my second point, which is that the covenant we are a part of is indeed a covenant with God, but it is also a covenant with one another. In the same way that we are in a relationship of mutual responsibility and accountability with God, so too are we in relationships of mutual responsibility and accountability with one another. We pray for one another, we build each other up, we cry together, laugh together, celebrate together, and mourn together. We recognize that we are all members of one body, therefore in the words of Paul, if one member of the body suffers, all suffer together. If one member of the body is honored, all rejoice with it. Perhaps this is where that comfort of the gospel is to be found. We are, ourselves, the hands and feet of Christ. We are manifesters of God’s love and grace to one another-- taking the burdens off the shoulders of our fellow brothers and sisters and offering kindness and compassion to those who are tired or burdened. We also encourage one another in our common walk of discipleship. In doing so, suddenly the obedience that can seem so overwhelming and even impossible on our own becomes not only possible, but dare I suggest even joyful, with the support of our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. This is why it’s so important to be in Christian community— to be in common worship together, to be part of a small group, to engage in bible study together. These things are not just about fulfilling an obligation. It’s about living fully into our life of common discipleship and letting ourselves be truly transformed.
Finally, this notion of covenantal responsibility extends beyond the four walls of this church, or of any one church. Jesus’ call to discipleship means we are called to be manifesters of God’s love not only to one another and our own families, but to the larger human family as well, recognizing that all people are beloved children of God.
When I was reflecting this week about what this might mean in today’s world, I kept coming back to one particular issue that has been on my mind and heart a lot lately. I’m sure that most of you at this point have heard about the proposed Islamic community center in Lower Manhattan. It’s been dubbed by the media as the “ground zero mosque.” Regardless of what one thinks about the location of the community center, what has truly disturbed me in all of this has been the hateful rhetoric and violent behavior that has arisen as a kind of side-effect of this debate. Last week in New York City a Muslim cab driver was the victim of a random hate crime. Also last week there was a case of arson in Tennessee by those protesting the expansion of an already existing Islamic cultural center. In Florida, a pastor is planning to commemorate 9/11 this year by organizing a “Koran burning.” Now I cannot assume to know the mind of God-- none of us can. However, I believe that this current wave of anti-Muslim speech, violence, and vandalism is not how God would have us live out our end of the covenant. I believe that living out our end of the covenant— in this case-- means standing up against those who would promote suspicion or intolerance towards those who are different. Living out our end of the covenent means standing up to be voices of love and reason rather than hate or fear. Our responsibility to the larger human family-- in this case-- extends beyond those in Christian community. It extends to those who— though they may not share our faith— are never-the-less fellow human beings deserving of dignity and respect. For me, having experienced God’s love and grace in my own life, I cannot stand aside and be silent while others promote hate and intolerance— especially when they do so in the name of God.
As Christians, I believe part of our covenantal responsibility as disciples of the Prince of Peace is to spread love where there is hate, spread peace where there is violence, and be agents of Christ’s reconciliation in the world. Our covenant with God means that we are partners with God in the work of mending creation. As we approach the anniversary of 9/11 this year, shouldn’t our focus be on the things that bind us together? Those aspects of our various religions that beseech us to live in peace with one another?
Of course this is just one example of how our covenant calls us towards a commitment to the larger human family. It’s an example that works for me. But certainly there are countless other ways we are called to join in the work of mending creation. The question is-- are we willing to follow the path of discipleship to do that work? If Christ but calls our name, are we willing to go where we don’t know and risk never being the same?
As we approach the beginning of a new church year, we are called to think more deeply about our own responsibilities as Christians in this often beautiful, often broken world. We are called to think about what it means to live a Christian life and what it means to live a life of true discipleship. I think it can be an exciting time, for we have the opportunity of renewing our commitment to God, and renewing our commitment to lives that bear the fruits of love. My challenge this morning is to spend some time this week thinking about how we-- as unique and precious members of the body of Christ-- can work towards bearing the fruit of a covenant based on love and grace. That is the challenge. The encouragement is this: God has promised to be with us always. As long as we accept that gift, we NEVER walk alone. We walk united with God. We walk together with one another. In covenant. From everlasting, to everlasting.
