The Cost of Discipleship

23^rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Wis 9, 13-18 / Philem 9-10, 12-17 / Lk 14, 25-33

In today’s gospel from Luke Jesus asks us to consider what it means in our lives to be his disciple.  He wants to remind us that discipleship will have its costs.  It doesn’t come cheaply.  I’d like to reflect with you a bit on what being a disciple of Jesus means for us.  And I’d like to reflect on what we have done with that discipleship.

The first Christian communities thought of themselves, above all, as followers of Jesus.  For them, believing in Jesus meant walking in his “way” by following his footsteps.  An early text, the letter to the Hebrews, calls it a “new and living way” that Jesus opened up for us.[Heb 10, 20]  So, to follow in Jesus’ footsteps means taking actual steps in life, making concrete decisions, turning away from things Jesus warns about, discovering new horizons, new possibilities for one’s own life.  All this is involved in following Jesus, in believing in Jesus, in being a disciple of Jesus.

But I want to reflect on what we have made of what the early disciples gave us.  I think we have moved away from their understanding of discipleship.  And here I want to be clear.  I am not pointing the finger at any particular group.  I am talking to us all – myself very much included.  I think many of us live our Christianity today not so much as “followers of Jesus” but rather as “adherents of the Christian religion”.  By that I mean we live as and consider ourselves to be members of a religious institution, the Church – members who are called upon to fulfill their religious and moral obligations and accept the Church’s teachings.  Now membership in the Church – in what we believe to be the true Church – is vitally important to us.  But bringing about the Kingdom of God that Jesus preached – well, that would be nice.  That’s a kind of extra call for special people.  Church membership gives me an anchor in this crazy world.  But being a disciple calls me to walk in the way Jesus opened up for us – a way that finds its secure anchor in God – in doing what we believe God asks of us.  Our anchor is in doing what we see Jesus did.  Disciples call that “faith” – entrusting your life over to the love of God we see in the life of Jesus.  To live like Jesus – to love like Jesus: that’s faithful discipleship.

Let me give an example of what I am trying to say.  As Church we affirm the truth of the virgin birth of Jesus.  This is a challenge to our way of thinking.  And many faithful people have struggled to understand what is being said here.  But also as Church, as the community of the disciples of Jesus, we affirm the truth of loving your enemy.  This love reflects most clearly God’s own love.  This love is what makes a disciple a disciple, Jesus says.  This is the love that will banish our fears, Jesus says.

The truth of the virgin birth calls for a deep intellectual struggle and grappling.  The truth of the love of enemies also calls for intellectual struggle but even more so it demands a grappling within one’s heart. It demands a grappling that will change the way I do things and approach people.  And it is this kind of grappling we call the life of discipleship.  It’s never neat and complete.  But it is alive.  And it is a “new and living way” for us to live – to be disciples of Jesus.

We owe it to ourselves.  We owe it to one another – to the Church.  Let us honestly reckon the costs of being disciples of Jesus.  How are we doing with his new and living way?

Fr. Pat Earl, SJ

Being of the Earth

22^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time 

Sir 3, 17-18, 20, 28-29 / Heb 12, 18-19, 22-24/ Lk 14, 1, 7-14

 

The author of our first reading was Jesus ben Sirach.  And this Jesus speaks to us about humility.  The Jesus in the gospel reading from Luke, Jesus of Nazareth, also speaks to us about humility.  So humility seems to be our theme. 

We all have images of what it means to be humble.  I want to suggest an image and a way of being humble that comes to us from both Jesus’ – Jesus ben Sirach and Jesus of Nazareth.  In the Hebrew scriptures the first human is named Adam.  And adamah is the Hebrew word for earth and soil.  Adam was of the earth.  Our word “humble” comes from the Latin word humus, meaning “earth”, “soil”, “dirt”.  Being humble has to do with being earthy – never losing touch, never losing one’s connection with your rootedness in the earth.  But there’s more to the word.  Humus is also the root for the Latin word humanus, meaning “human”, “human being”.  Being human also has to do with being earthy – just like the Jewish scriptures say. 

Being humble – being human – both have to do with being earthy – not losing your connection with earthy roots.  These words call on us to become simple – to return to basics.  They would have us be simply ourselves – our un-dressed-up, down-to-earth self.  And Jesus’ advice to the house guests calls on them to be themselves, just their human selves – not putting on airs – not seeking to put distance between themselves and others – not seeking to be above others. 

We belong with one another.  That’s the simple, humble, human truth about us that Jesus wants us to recognize – and to live.  We belong with one another and we belong to one another.  For Jesus, just as we cannot imagine life without earth and air, sky and water – just so we cannot imagine life without the closeness of other people.  Without the rhythm of giving to and receiving from one another – without living in partnership with one another – our lives become inhuman.  We merely vegetate.  We may even copulate.  But we don’t have real human life – because there is no real we; there’s just me. My bottom line is just me.  And where there’s just me, then connection and community become mere stepping stones to higher seats, higher stations in life. 

Can you imagine making distance from other people your goal in life – the sign of your success?  Where there’s just me – then life becomes a routine of just stepping up to the higher salary, moving up to the greater recognition.  Your life’s goal goes into creating distance between yourself and others.  Success is creating greater space between us.  Success is having no real relationship or partnership - having no real connection or community. 

But Jesus reminds us we are human and humble.  Our lives are not just private affairs.  We belong with one another.  We belong to one another.  Jesus calls us to be just ourselves – just our humble, human, down-to-earth selves.  Conduct your life with humility, and you will be loved – loved more than a giver of gifts.

Being Baptized Like Jesus

20^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Jer 38, 4-6, 8-10 / Heb 12, 1-4 / Lk 12, 49-53

The Jesus we meet in today’s gospel is not a comforting Jesus.  And we, his followers, need to listen up to what this Jesus has to say to us. 

He speaks about having to undergo a baptism and how anxious he is that he be baptized.  Here Jesus is not talking about the rather polite baptism ceremony we have developed.  Rather, in talking about being baptized, he is using the standard imagery of his day to talk about being overwhelmed by circumstances.  The image of baptism conveys drowning in water.  Today we might talk of being water-boarded by life.  And Jesus is saying this has to happen to him – that he wants it to happen to him.  He must undergo this drowning.  Here Jesus is referring to his passion and death.  He is speaking of the dying that must happen for new life to come. 

And we who follow Jesus must be baptized with the same baptism as Jesus.  Somehow we must undergo a dying for new life to come forth in us.  Something has to die in us for newness to happen.  In sacramental baptism – by undergoing the water – we rehearse for the kind of dying there needs to be in our lives if we are to come to new life with Jesus.  And baptism strangely names this dying a grace – a gift from our good God. 

What will drown and die – what must die – are the false foundations we have chosen to build our lives upon.  Our grace will be re-learning the basics in life.  What once gave us security no longer will.  A grace!  There will be painful confusion.  Old certainties and orthodoxies will falter.  Also a grace!  And all that must happen – all these graces must be given – for the gospel to grab us and give us new, abundant life. 

The Jesus we meet in today’s gospel is not a comforting Jesus.  And we, his followers, need to listen up to what this Jesus has to say to us.  He speaks of not bringing comfort and peace – but stinging fire and divisive confrontation.  He wants to battle and burn away our lies about life – our violence in life – and our injustices to the living.  Jesus brings a Spirit capable of changing our world radically, even at the cost of dividing people and causing them to confront each other.  He wants and works for a revolution deeper than our politics and economies.  It is a revolution of conscience, a revolution in awareness he calls “the Kingdom of God” – the kingdom where God’s own love comes down to earth through how we actually treat one another.  Also a grace – not a cheap grace – costly grace: to live God’s own grace here on earth – here in North Carolina – here in Charlotte – here in our parish. 

It is the same Spirit at work in the un-comforting words of Pope Francis.  Let us listen up to what he is saying to us.

…we must recognize that the majority of men and women of our time continue to live daily in situations of insecurity, with dire consequences.  …fear and desperation grip the hearts of many people, even in the so-called rich countries; the joy of life is diminishing; indecency and violence are on the rise; poverty is becoming more and more evident.  People have to struggle to live and, frequently, to live in an undignified way.  One cause of this situation, in my opinion, is in our relationship with money, and our acceptance of its power over ourselves and our society.  …there is need for financial reform along ethical lines that would produce an economic reform to benefit everyone.  This would require a courageous change of attitude on the part of political leaders.  …Money has to serve, not rule.

Pope Francis repeats the call of Jesus.  To restore joy to people’s lives – to diminish their fears – to promote human dignity – are these not wonderful graces given to those who follow Jesus and who pray with Jesus that God’s kingdom come down to earth in how we live and work together?  What will it mean for each of us to say yes to these graces? 

Jesus and Francis leave us with a question to think on this week.  What is my relationship with money?  Does it rule in my life or does it serve?

 

 

 

 

 

Our Greatest Fear

19^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Wis 18, 6-9 / Hb 11, 1-2, 8-19 / Lk 12, 32-38

Our readings speak about fear and moving beyond fear.  The first reading recalled the Jewish experience of being slaves in Egypt.  Like all slaves, they knew fear.  They knew the fear of being oppressed – of having no say at all about your life – the fear of having only the most dismal life ahead of you.  Yet they moved beyond fear – as they came to recognize the power of God releasing them from every bondage.  God can do that!  They moved beyond fear by moving through it. 

The second reading from the Letter to the Hebrews reminded us that Abraham and Sarah had their fears.  They feared leaving their home to live among strangers.  They feared bringing new life into the world at their advanced age; they were old people afraid of a new life.  But they too moved beyond their fear and learned to become risk-takers.  God can do that!  Daring to risk moved them beyond fear by moving them through it. 

In the gospel Jesus begins by repeating something he so often said to his disciples: “Do not be afraid!”  The most repeated words in the whole Bible!  Jesus does not want his disciples to live in fear.  He wants us to move beyond our fears – especially the fears that keep us at a distance from one another.  Like our fear of commitment – and our fear of not being accepted.  These fears keep us from risking to invest ourselves in the lives of others.  They isolate us.  Our loneliness comes from these fears. 

There’s an underlying fear we have to address.  It’s our fear of dying.  We are disciples of Jesus – and we are afraid of death.  Jesus feared death.  He sweated and shivered as he moved deliberately toward his death.  But our fear of death makes us run from its inevitable reality.  We avoid talk of death.  Even at home in our families – fear isolates us into a dumb silence before death and dying. 

Into our dumb silence Jesus, our Risen Lord, yells: “Do not be afraid!  Do not be afraid even of death!”  From the far side of death Jesus, the Resurrected One, assures us: We never just die.  Rather – we die into new life.  In our dying there is always a birthing.  When you think of it, in childbirth a woman loses her child by giving it birth.  God always gives us new life. 

Christians call this dying into new life the Paschal Mystery.  It’s the basic truth we see in the life and death of Jesus.  And it’s the truth we can see in our own lives.  A man was dying of cancer.  He was a big, tough guy – welder.  He was not dying easily.  In intense pain, his body wasting away, he still refused to die.  He lay there clinging to life.  One day his eldest son sat by the bedside, watching his dad’s suffering.  He squeezed his hand and said: “Dad, die for God’s sake!  Let go!  It’s got to be better there than here.”  Almost immediately his dad became calm and within minutes he died. 

The words his son spoke were paschal words, Christ’s words, words that trust God enough to be able to die into Him – knowing that new life – deeper, fuller life will be born in the dying. 

Let us learn such trust.  This is true Christian faith – the faith that overcomes the world.  It is just such faith that frees us from fear and allows us to live and even to die in gratitude.

 

The Prophet

14^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Isaiah 66, 10-14 / Gal 6, 14-18 / Luke 10,1-12, 17-20

Our first reading was from Isaiah – and he was a prophet.  Paul, the author of our second reading, was a prophet.  And certainly Jesus was a prophet.  So I want to ask:  what is a prophet?

Often we take the word “prophesy” to mean the same as “predict”.  So a prophet basically predicts what is going to happen.  But that is not how Jews and certainly not how Jesus understood what it means to be a prophet. 

The word itself “prophet” literally means to speak in front of.  A prophet is a public speaker.  In Jewish understanding a prophet is God’s spokesman.  Through his study, prayer and openness to God, God comes to inhabit the prophet’s mind and heart.  God gives the prophet his own spirit:  what makes God move and act.  To have God’s spirit is to have God’s own feelings.  The prophet publicly speaks and shows God’s feelings.  Isaiah speaks of God’s feelings toward Israel as those of a mother comforting her child.

The prophet’s life is difficult and lonely because his words and actions confront us with what we have allowed ourselves to become.  We waste our feelings by scrimping and skimping with them.  We waste our love by being all too stingy, too controlling with it.  To use Isaiah’s image, we are not sucking in fully the milk of God’s love.  We are acting as if God, our Creator, does not have abundant breasts to feed us with life and love.  So how then can we, God’s creatures, how can we possibly hope to live and love generously?  We have no sense of their abundance within us – no sense of their God-given abundance within us. 

In Indian folklore there’s a story about the lion that as a cub was raised by sheep.  The lion grew up to think of himself as a lamb.  But then one day he saw a real lion and recognized himself in the lion.  So he stopped eating grass.  He stopped running away from other lions and joined them as one of them. 

The prophet shows us our real lion so we can recognize ourselves.  Prophets will always provoke us to a painful moment of truth – so we can finally recognize in ourselves God’s Spirit already dwelling within us – recognize in ourselves God’s own feelings of love and compassion already within our hearts and yearning to find expression in our lives. 

In the gospel the prophet Jesus says: “I have observed Satan fall like lightening from the sky.”  In the scriptures Satan is always our grand accuser – our grand false accuser – claiming God’s love, God’s spirit is not within us – claiming we have no abundance within us.  Satan will fall – like lightening from the sky – fall from our lives and our loves – if we let Jesus be our prophet reawakening us to God’s spirit within us.  Then the words of Isaiah will speak directly and clearly, as the prophet says to us:  “When you see this, your heart shall rejoice and your bodies flourish like grass; the Lord’s power shall be known to his servants.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FREEDOM!

13^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

1Kings 19: 16, 19-21 / Galatians 5: 1, 13-18 / Luke 9: 51-62

St. Paul reminds us of the freedom we have in Christ.  And he reminds us we are not to use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh.  Now I think we are inclined to understand “giving in to the desire of the flesh” as primarily something sexual or physical.  But the example Paul gives of gratifying the desire of the flesh is when we bite at and devour one another.  Following the desire of the flesh, for Paul, makes us consume and devour one another with our endless jealousies, competition and violence.  Following the desire of the flesh makes us desire to outdo, outwit, outshine one another.  Following the desire of the flesh makes a war out of our lives together.  We come to one another as rivals.  We come as enemies.

We see in the gospel Jesus’ refusal to follow the desire of the flesh.  Traveling through a Samaritan village Jesus and his disciples encounter opposition.  They find no welcome because the Samaritans recognize them as Jews, their traditional enemies, on their way to Jerusalem.  In reaction the disciples want to call down fire from heaven upon the Samaritans.  But Jesus clearly rebukes them.  Following him means not following the flesh.  Following Jesus means not following the violent way of getting even and putting oneself on top of the heap. 

We need a clear grasp of what our freedom as Christians looks like – how we should live it in our world – in our nation – and in our Church.  We need concrete examples of people following Jesus’ way of freedom.  So I want to offer one such example of a disciple of Jesus. 

Bahram [Dehquani-Tafti] was the son of Hassan.  And Hassan was the bishop of the Episcopal Church in Iran.  As the Islamic Revolution took hold of that country, Hassan’s family was forced to flee.  But on May 6, 1980, before they could escape to Lebanon, Bahram, who was publicly known to be a Christian, was stopped by members of the Revolutionary Guard, dragged from his car and shot to death. 

In response to his son’s death his father, Hassan, the bishop, the disciple of Jesus wrote a prayer.  Please listen closely to the words of Hassan’s prayer. 

“O God, we remember not only our son but also his murderers – not because they killed him in the prime of his youth and made our hearts bleed and our tears flow – but because through their crime we now follow your footsteps more closely in the way of sacrifice.  The terrible fire of this calamity burns up all selfishness and possessiveness in us.  Its flame reveals the depth of depravity, meanness and suspicion – the dimension of hatred and the measure of sinfulness in human nature.  It makes obvious as never before our need to trust in God’s love as shown in the cross of Jesus and his resurrection – love that makes us free from hate toward our persecutors – love that brings patience and greatness of heart – love that more than ever deepens our trust in God’s final victory and his eternal designs for the church and for the world – love that teaches us how to prepare ourselves to face our own day of death.  O God, our son Bahram’s blood has multiplied the fruit of the Spirit in the soil of our souls.  So when his murderers stand before you on the day of judgment, remember the fruit of the Spirit by which they have enriched our lives – and forgive.” 

Soon we will celebrate July4th, our national day of independence.  We call our country “the land of freedom.”  But the freedom we have in Christ is of a different kind and order from the political freedom we rightly celebrate.  Hassan acts out – prays out – the kind of freedom we have in Christ.  If we are to live in this freedom – if we are to live by the Spirit – if we are to be disciples of Jesus – then our response to the violence we find in our world must look something like Hassan’s response.  For this freedom Christ has set us free.  That freedom can change us; it can change everything.

 

Who Am I To You?

12^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Zech 12, 10-11 – 13, 1 / Gal 3, 26-29 / Lk 9, 18-24

“Who do you say that I am?”  I can’t hear that question from Jesus without thinking about something that happened to me once at Kennedy Airport in New York.  I was returning to the U.S. on a flight from Frankfurt.  The plan was to land at Kennedy, get to Penn Station in Manhattan and go to Philadelphia for a family visit.  Not knowing New York well at all, I asked a policeman for directions to get to Penn Station.  He turned to me, came real close and said in a loud voice: “What am I to you – a signpost?”  I thanked him for reminding me so clearly that I was in New York.

But it’s that same “in your face” quality that we get from Jesus’ question.  What am I to you?  And the emphasis is clearly on the “you”.  To really hear his question is to let Jesus get up close – get in your face.  And it’s to let yourself be questioned in your depths.

What am I to you – really?  Jesus’ question wants to go deeper than all the answers we have been taught to give.  Our learned answers come easily:  Jesus, you are the savior, the redeemer of the world!  Jesus, you are the son of God sitting at the right hand of the Father!  But Jesus replies: “Those are what others say that I am.  But who do you say that I am?”  And we need to ask ourselves honestly:  what do all these names we give to Jesus – what do they really mean to us?

The way we answer that question comes not so much from our creeds and catechisms – though they may help to get us started.  Our real answer must come from our lives – from the way we really live.  The early Christians referred to their Christian faith as simply “the way”.  Who do I say Jesus is?  Watch the way I live.

 
The question Jesus puts here in the gospel of Luke he actually answers in the gospel of John.  In that gospel Jesus says to Thomas – to Thomas who is a wonderfully honest disciple who admits he doesn’t know the way to God – to this disciple Jesus says: “I am the way – and the truth – and the life.”[Jn 14, 6]  He isn’t speaking theoretically.  He is saying to Thomas and to us who call ourselves disciples: I am the way: I am God’s way to you and your way to God.  You must walk my way – my way of living.  I am the truth: I am God’s true presence.  You enter into God’s real presence by doing what you see me doing.  I am the life: I am God’s own abundant life.  You will live that abundant life by living as you see me living.  And you can actually see the way I live in the gospels – in the sacraments – and in the people who now are my body.

Who do you say I am?  Am I your way?  Am I your truth?  Am I your life?  Neither he nor his questions will go away.  Jesus wants to get in our face.  He loves us too much to be satisfied with our easy words and programmed piety.  He wants us deeply.  He wants to get into where we really live, love and make decisions.  And thank God for that.  It’s the only way we can begin to stop talking about the Kingdom of God and begin to actually do something to live in the Kingdom of God.

Let us thank God when we begin to question our easy answers to Jesus’ challenging questions.  Let us thank God when we begin to yearn that God’s Kingdom come down to earth – in our own lives.  That’s when we will be walking our talk.  That’s when we will be walking the Jesus-way.

Who do we say Jesus is?  Watch, Charlotte.  Watch the way we live!

 

Fr. Pat Earl, SJ