Gospel reading: Luke 14.25-33
Now large crowds were travelling with him; and he turned and said to them, ‘Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, “This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.” Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.
Reflections
I’ve always thought that these two teachings of the tower and war basically meant ‘the road to hell being paved with good intentions’ and that following Jesus is all about following through, after first counting the cost. Then I beat myself up for erring in two ways: either needing to know absolutely everything before I start anything new, which puts up a huge barrier to starting anything at all; and not finishing stuff.
I think of them as hard sayings. And being human, I skate over them or, whenever I am forced to stop and look more closely, I try to weasel my way out of their perceived meaning.
I mean, really. Would any of Jesus’ listeners here ever actually be in the position of building a tower or starting a war? Well… er… war and soldiers were a reality of living with the Romans as occupying force. And Jesus later tells the story of the collapse of the tower of Siloam (Luke 13.1-5), and the parable of a man who “planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the wine press, and built a watch-tower; then he leased it to tenants and went to another country.” (Mark 12.1-12 paralleled in Luke 20), so perhaps towers were within their ken too.
Or surely intending to do something creative, like building a tower, is a good thing? And building at least the foundations is not nothing and not wasted; they are necessary and could be built on later? And really how big a deal is it to be ridiculed for not finishing? Well… umm… yes it is a big deal. I hate being ridiculed. ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me’ is one of the big untruths of the playground.
So I can’t weasel my way out like that. But as I continue to reflect, a new idea is starting to form instead: just maybe I’ve got these teachings completely wrong.
Maybe carrying the cross is not about doing the estimating first, but about being willing to go through the experience of being ridiculed. After all, Jesus is ridiculed on the cross. And he was willing to be a failure and lose the battle in the eyes of the world, because waging war against the overwhelming might of the occupying force is not the way of bringing in God’s Kingdom. Maybe carrying the cross in the second teaching is not about rational consideration of risks and outcomes, but about being willing to go through the humiliation of suing for peace.
Maybe Jesus is saying that the “possessions” which a disciple has to give up are actually a need to know, a need for certainty, trust in our own human agency, lust after political power, pride… that is, an emptying encompassing life itself.
The Old Testament is full of stories of people being called by God, knowing nothing of what it would entail. Think of Abraham leaving Haran and Ur, “not knowing where he was going,” or Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt into the desert, or the calls of Samuel, or Isaiah, or Jeremiah. Hebrews 11 is full of these stories of faith, “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11.1).
It seems to me now that these two teachings are about starting to follow, in faith. Then, when the going gets tough, as it inevitably will, simply hanging on in there and trusting God.
The Lord will fulfil his purpose for me;
Psalm 138.8 (NRSV)
your steadfast love, O Lord, endures for ever.
Do not forsake the work of your hands.
-oOo-
Since April 2020, I have been jointly hosting a shared Lectio Divina group on Tuesday or Wednesday evenings. These are my reflections only, during the prayer session and as I wrote them up. Please see my separate commentary and leaflet for more information about shared Lectio.