Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C | Dominica Hebdomada Vigesima tertia (XXII) « Per Annum », Anno C
4 September 2022 in the year of our Lord
1. Jesus tells us that to be his disciples we must hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even our own life. What does this mean for you concretely? Who is in the first place in your life Jesus Christ or yourself? Jesus Christ or your family?
2. What's your cross today? Do you accept the cross that the Lord gives you or do you flee from it? What does it mean for you today in your daily life to come after Jesus?
3. Are you willing to give up all your possessions to be a disciple of Christ?
Lk 14:25-33 Great crowds were traveling with Jesus, and he turned and addressed them, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. Which of you wishing to construct a tower does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if there is enough for its completion? Otherwise, after laying the foundation and finding himself unable to finish the work the onlookers should laugh at him and say, ‘This one began to build but did not have the resources to finish.’ Or what king marching into battle would not first sit down and decide whether with ten thousand troops he can successfully oppose another king advancing upon him with twenty thousand troops? But if not, while he is still far away, he will send a delegation to ask for peace terms. In the same way, anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.” |
Κατά Λουκάν Ευαγγέλιον 14:25-33 25 Συνεπορεύοντο δὲ αὐτῷ ὄχλοι πολλοί, καὶ στραφεὶς εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτούς· 26 εἴ τις ἔρχεται πρός με καὶ οὐ μισεῖ τὸν πατέρα ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τὴν μητέρα καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα καὶ τὰ τέκνα καὶ τοὺς ἀδελφοὺς καὶ τὰς ἀδελφὰς ἔτι τε καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ἑαυτοῦ, οὐ δύναται εἶναί μου μαθητής. 27 ὅστις οὐ βαστάζει τὸν σταυρὸν ἑαυτοῦ καὶ ἔρχεται ὀπίσω μου, οὐ δύναται εἶναί μου μαθητής. 28 Τίς γὰρ ἐξ ὑμῶν θέλων πύργον οἰκοδομῆσαι οὐχὶ πρῶτον καθίσας ψηφίζει τὴν δαπάνην, εἰ ἔχει εἰς ἀπαρτισμόν; 29 ἵνα μήποτε θέντος αὐτοῦ θεμέλιον καὶ μὴ ἰσχύοντος ἐκτελέσαι πάντες οἱ θεωροῦντες ἄρξωνται αὐτῷ ἐμπαίζειν 30 λέγοντες ὅτι οὗτος ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἤρξατο οἰκοδομεῖν καὶ οὐκ ἴσχυσεν ἐκτελέσαι. 31 Ἢ τίς βασιλεὺς πορευόμενος ἑτέρῳ βασιλεῖ συμβαλεῖν εἰς πόλεμον οὐχὶ καθίσας πρῶτον βουλεύσεται εἰ δυνατός ἐστιν ἐν δέκα χιλιάσιν ὑπαντῆσαι τῷ μετὰ εἴκοσι χιλιάδων ἐρχομένῳ ἐπ’ αὐτόν; 32 εἰ δὲ μή γε, ἔτι αὐτοῦ πόρρω ὄντος πρεσβείαν ἀποστείλας ἐρωτᾷ τὰ πρὸς εἰρήνην. 33 οὕτως οὖν πᾶς ἐξ ὑμῶν ὃς οὐκ ἀποτάσσεται πᾶσιν τοῖς ἑαυτοῦ ὑπάρχουσιν οὐ δύναται εἶναί μου μαθητής. |
Fr John Lankeit's homily :
There’s a famous quote that’s attributed to St. Francis of Assisi that we’ve probably all heard before:
“Preach the Gospel at all times; use words when necessary.”
There are two major problems with this quote.
The first is that—according even to Franciscan historians—there is not a single shred of evidence, anywhere, that St. Francis himself ever said this.
Secondly, the problem with such a vague saying as this one is that it encourages us human beings—with our fallen human natures—to rationalize cowardly Christian behavior. While the intention of the quote is commendable—namely, that our Christian life should obviously exemplify Gospel virtues in a way that speaks for itself—the fact is that too many Catholics interpret it to mean:
“Thank God I never have to talk about my faith and make myself or anyone else uncomfortable!”
Here’s another example of how a well-intentioned proposal, which—when confronted with the reality of human weakness—has had undesirable, but quite predictable, unintended consequences:
Prior to Vatican II, Church law stated clearly that it was a serious sin to eat meat on Friday—not just Fridays during Lent—but any Friday of the year—except when a Solemnity fell on a Friday.
After Vatican II, the Church left the practice of Friday abstinence in place but removed the legal penalty of sin for eating meat on Friday, hoping to encourage Catholics to abstain from meat on Fridays out of their love for Jesus rather than out of their fear of punishment.
The Church no doubt wanted to shift Catholic hearts from obligation to the “honor system”. The problem is that fallen human nature—yours and mine—is not always so honorable.
Now, instead of Catholics saying, “Now I get to show Jesus gratitude, who gave us his flesh to save me, by abstaining voluntarily from meat on Fridays as an act of love rather than out of fear of punishment” the average Catholic just said, “Great! Now we can eat meat on Fridays!”
The fact is, we are still called to practice Friday penance all throughout the year. But if you ask the average Catholic today, they’ll probably just tell you, “Catholics can eat meat on Fridays” ... without any qualification...or any reference to Jesus’ self-sacrifice. This laxity is rampant even among priests today, many of whom will wolf down a Whopper on a Friday without giving Christ’s Passion a second thought.
That’s the problem with vague formulations. Our weakened wills love loopholes and will go to great lengths to interpret the tenets the Christian faith in such a way as to minimize the cost of following Jesus. Jesus, on the other hand, is anything but vague. In fact, his words are often so starkly clear that we are left with the opposite problem.
Instead of looking for the easy way out, as we tend to do with imprecise formulations; when Jesus speaks, we wonder if it’s even possible to meet his standards.
This passage from today’s Gospel is a perfect illustration:
Great crowds were traveling with Jesus, and he turned and addressed them, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” (Lk 14:25-27)
A mature disciple will struggle to reconcile the 4th Commandment —to honor your father and mother—with what seem to be the contradictory words of Jesus himself when he says we can’t come to him unless we hate Mom and Dad.
Why does Jesus speak like this?
Well, for starters, Jesus is a distinctly Jewish teacher...and the Jewish teachers of Jesus’ time used hyperbole—exaggerated statements that seek to make a clear point without being taken literally.
Jesus wants to show the full cost of being a disciple. So, he rocks our world with words that get our attention.
Now, if you ask the average person what the opposite of love is, most will say, “hate”. The point that Jesus makes is that our esteem for...and our obedience to him must be so radical that even the demands our most important earthly relationships must take a back seat.
What more stark distinction could Jesus have made, then, than that between “love” and “hate”?
And yet, we must be clear. Loving Jesus more than one’s family does not necessarily demand a break with one’s family. But it might!
Bottom line: It’s a question of priority.
I am amazed, in just the past couple of weeks, for example, by how many parents have lamented to me about how their non-practicing Catholic kids are making decisions that force them—the practicing Catholic parents—to choose between their family relationships and their faith. This is becoming more and more common these days—as the spirit of entitlement takes over more and more souls—and those who are on the receiving end of it know just how gut-wrenching it can be.
The most common example is a Catholic son or daughter getting married outside the Catholic Church and expecting their parents not only to approve their decision...but also to attend the wedding. What makes this so gutwrenching for the faithful Catholic parents is not that they “hate” their kids—but precisely that they love their kids...AND they love Jesus.
Let’s pause here for a moment to revisit Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel:
Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. (Lk 14:27)
I’m always mildly amused by Christians—Catholic or Protestant—who, when not undergoing a severe trial in their life, will casually say, “I just want to carry my cross and follow Jesus.” I’m too polite to actually say what I really think in such moments...but here’s what I would say if push came to shove:
That’s a nice sentiment, and if Jesus had said, “Whoever does not carry his own COMFORTER and come after me cannot be my disciple”, then I would have no doubt about what you say. But the cross...the real cross?
Do you not remember what Jesus himself did and said in the Garden of Gethsemane as he foresaw the full weight of the Cross that would be placed on his shoulders the next morning?
Let’s jump over to Matthew’s Gospel to jog our memories:
...Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to feel sorrow and distress. Then he said to them, “My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch with me.” He advanced a little and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will.” (Mt 26:36-39)
So, Jesus—in his real human nature—wavered...if only for a moment. Jesus—God in the flesh—had fears and doubts. And yet the naïve, overconfident Christian today says:
“I just want to carry my cross and follow Jesus!”
Now let’s go back to the question of sons and daughters forcing their parents and other family members to choose between faith and family relationships. The conscientious Catholic parents whose kids are getting married outside the Church, are torn apart inside. They want to support the sons and daughters they love, but the kids are asking them to endorse their public scandal—getting married outside the Church.
Effectively, this is the message kids are communicating to their parents:
“I know what you believe, but this is what we want...and if you don’t put your relationship with Jesus aside and come to my wedding, then you don’t love me.”
They don’t necessarily say it that way. But make no mistake—that’s exactly what it means.
When parents ask me what they should do in such situations, I always begin by saying, “I can only tell you how I see the situation. I cannot tell you what to do. Ultimately, you have to make the decision.”
I also assure them that I’m not just judging their situation from the sidelines, comfortably untouched personally by such a dilemma. I have had to make difficult decisions like this at least three times in my own family, so I know what it costs to be forced to choose between my faith in Jesus and the expectations of family members.
The bad guy...or gal...in these situations...is not the faithful Catholic pinned into a corner. The culprit is the family member who is not only unwilling to put Jesus first in their own life, but who also expects others to conform to their path of least commitment.
I know a faithful Catholic couple—here in this parish—who sat each one of their kids down when they reached high school age and said to them:
Our highest priority is our relationship with Jesus, so please don’t ever force us to choose between you and him, especially by getting married outside the Church and expecting us to attend the wedding. We won’t do it. We’re telling you this now, so you won’t put us in that position and then get mad at us for standing firm in our faith. If you ever do this, you will be responsible for the consequences, not us. Do you understand?
This, my brothers and sisters, is what it looks like to “carry one’s own cross and follow Jesus”.
Jesus certainly does not want us to hate our families.
But he does not want us to love them without the truth, either.
If Jesus himself blinked at the prospect of carrying his cross, it should not surprise us that we mere mortals are ready to flee from our own cross when we realize just how much it weighs.
Jesus’ words are extremely challenging, not because he calls us to hate our family. Jesus’ words are extremely challenging precisely because he calls us to love our family...in the fullness of truth.
The irony in all this is that if we do carry our own cross and follow Jesus, precisely because we love him—and because we love our families enough to “preach the Gospel at all times” by the way we live our Christian faith—the irony is that we may nevertheless be labeled “haters” because we don’t conform to the twisted ways of the world...or to the entitlement attitude of fallen-away family members.
Jesus tells us that authentic love for others must first be rooted in love for him, and that we may occasionally find ourselves forced to choose between Jesus and our loved ones as a result.
Remember that Jesus also said this:
Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and a man’s foes will be those of his own household. 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; and he who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it. (Mt 10:34-39)
For a faithful disciple there are no naïve illusions about the true cost of carrying our own cross and following Jesus.
But there is also a clear understanding that following Jesus with this kind of unshakeable fidelity is the path of authentic love, because it is the trail that Jesus himself blazed for us...by his words...and his actions...and his uncompromising love for us.
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