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September 9, 2007
A Sense of Embarrasment
Luke 14:25-33, Psalm 19
FAX GOD?
“Israel's national telephone company initiated a fax service several years ago that transmits messages to God via the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. If you have an urgent prayer, apparently, you can fax it to someone at the Wall and they will place it in a crack between stones, which is the traditional way to send special petitions to the Almighty. The Roman Catholic Church unveiled a high-tech confessional at a trade show in Vicenza, Italy, that will accept confessions by fax, as well.”1 Imagine what could be done with text messages. You could confess almost instantaneously after your sin – and with absolution presumably as quick, you could be right back at whatever you were up to with a clean slate.
These high-tech manifestations of religious quirkiness are only symptoms of a literalness which you can find in all sorts of religious traditions and expressions. Like the robotic threshing machines which allow orthodox Jews in Israel to keep on harvesting their fields right through the Sabbath, many of these shortcuts are really kind of humorous. On the other hand, it is pretty frightening to experience the literalism which marks the religious fervor of our nemesis, Osama Bin Laden when he calls people to undertake suicidal violence in the name of God.
Literalism allows its adherents to count people out of the circle of God's love. Literalism prescribes a pretty rigorous set of requirements for the faithful, but once the check-list has been completed, seemingly, there is never a reason for doubt. Those who fall short of the prescription for faith are counted out – those who meet the test are counted as saved.
In confusing and difficult times, there is some allure to a faith which contains such absolute certainty. “Here is what you are to believe,” says the fundamentalist; all you have to do is subscribe and you're in. When economic conditions are uncertain, living under the threat of violence from crime or tribalism, or political conflicts which have broken out in war, depending on the part of the world in which you live, the idea of the absolute is attractive. At least, in that way, something will remain constant.
However, it is not just fundamentalist who like to have a set of rules to follow. “How To” books seem to fly off the shelves: how to lose weight, how to dress well, how to be wealthy, how to succeed in business without really trying. There are pundits and gurus of all sorts with disciples flocking to them. There are economists who have their special followers: are you Supply Side – Milton Friedman or Keynesian or Galbraith? Artists, musicians or authors – modern, classical, impressionist or hip-hop: of which are you an afectionato ? Vegan or veg? Atkins or nutrition triangle? We all have our loyalties and our special sources of guidance in life.
The thing is, when you read a passage like the one we read together from Luke this morning, you may very well assume that Jesus is actually on the lookout for people who will give him the kind of absolute allegiance that fundamentalism seems to encourage. One contemporary translation of the Gospel puts the final verse of the passage: “Simply put, if you're not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can't be my disciple.” Luke 14:33 Sounds to me like radical stuff, leave your family, leave your home, leave your work and pick up your cross to follow me.
I would prefer not to hate anyone! So maybe discipleship is just not for me. I was at an interfaith gathering yesterday discussing the role of religion in politics. One woman there who had been raised in Bosnia was absolutely ready to remove all religion from public discourse. As one born into the Muslim faith, her own experience was of having neighbor turned against neighbor in the most violent and vicious ways as they rallied behind leaders who called them to defend their faith. We were shocked when Bosnia happened, weren't we? Now such inter-religious hatred seems almost common place.
From an overly committed American, fully engaged in the American way of life, a more likely response to Jesus words here might be, “This all sounds too demanding, I think I'll pass.” I am happy to think of myself as a church member, but the idea of “discipleship” seems a bit embarrassing in this day and age. Sometimes leading to fanaticism, frequently demonstrated in rote performance of empty gestures of orthodoxy which have pretty much lost their meaning, often just too intrusive in our lives when we have so many things to consider and to do; perhaps it's best to think of discipleship as something best left to Peter, James and John and the sons of Zebedee – something of out of the stories of Jesus but not likely going to be of much more impact than that.
Before we chuck the whole thing in, though, perhaps we should look at the context of this passage. Fundamentalists and their ilk are want to slide right by context and cherry pick the rules and examples which seem best to suit their cause.
This injunction to hate your family and pick up your cross does follow immediately after a parable in which the host of a banquet goes out and beats the bushes to bring in the halt and the lame in order that they may join the feast. So Jesus must not be saying, “Discipleship is an exclusive group – only the special are allowed – only the cream of the crop will make it.” It seems rather, he is saying “Everyone is invited – all are called!”
Another event in this chapter is a healing which happens on Sabbath. He reminds the Pharisees at that moment that even the Sabbath Law, one of the Ten Commandments, can properly be broken if one has an opportunity to help someone by doing so – as when he heals man who has epilepsy on Sabbath day and a few chapters earlier healed the bent-over woman in the synagogue at worship. Blind adherence to rules is not, therefore, necessarily part of discipleship either.
Another point of investigation; in the Greek the word used for hate in this passage is a word that means just what it does in English – it's a strong verb. However, it also carries the connotation of renunciation, removing something from the position of paramount importance in your life. St. Francis of Assisi repudiated the wealth of his noble family and wore rough woven garments in light of this passage. We know from elsewhere that Jesus did not hate his mother or his own family; he just did not let his love for them overshadow the work of his calling.
As one preacher puts it, “It is as though he were saying, ‘Put aside all the supposed facilitators of salvation to which the world points - all the supposed ‘helpers' who propose to be the ultimate rescuers from your folly - all those people or things that purport to liberate you from the powers holding you subject in and to this world. Do not trust any of them, for they are all useless. Put them behind you and come, follow me, for I, and I alone, am the one through whom you will find your [self]… Turn away from everything else, turning instead to me - and I will give you the life that was originally intended for you by my heavenly Father… Simply, trust me!'” 2
It was C.S. Lewis who referred to himself as an iconoclast. By that he meant that by the time he had experienced the deep grief of losing his own beloved wife, he had come to suspect every kind of religious formula. The great simplifier is what his publicist liked to call him in reference to the dozens of books on Christianity he had written. Well the great simplifier came to reject those very efforts to simplify when push came to shove in his own life. “My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. God shatters it! God is the great iconoclast. Could we not say that this shattering is one of the marks of God's presence? Most are offended by iconoclasm; blessed are those who are not.” 3
The great Jewish scholar of the late 20 th Century, Rabbi Abraham Heschel, once wrote: The root of any religious faith is a sense of embarrassment, of inadequacy. It would be a great calamity for humanity if the sense of embarrassment disappeared, with an answer to every problem. Disciples are not meant to be perfect Christians, perfect Jews or Muslims or anything else. Disciples it seems are called to put away their preconceived notions and their simple formulaic faith and with heart and soul, join the faith journey with open minds and open hearts. The Rabbi goes on: We have no answer to ultimate problems. We really don't know. In this not knowing, in this sense of embarrassment, lies the key to opening the wells of creativity. Those who have no embarrassment remain sterile. 4
Are we called to be disciples? I think we are. When we baptize a child, we ask the parents, “Do you wish your child to be a disciple of Jesus Christ, to be baptized in his name?” I am hoping that as the weeks unfold before us and as we experience again the familiar touch-stones in our congregational life, World Communion, Stewardship, Thanksgiving, Advent, and then Christmas that we will be looking at what it means for each of us to think of ourselves as disciples. It may sound awfully churchy to some of you. It may feel intrusive too. Jesus, as we have seen, made demands on his disciples and seemed to mean it when he did so. Discipleship means stretching beyond normal comfort levels sometimes, it can be hard, it can be embarrassing. Discipleship means standing up and being noticed, it means sacrifice and it means, ultimately, fulfillment – something real in the midst of all the chaos of our times.
God's love transcends all efforts to limit or control or divide. The one immutable truth is that when we are called to discipleship, called to follow, we do not go it alone. Wither shall I go to flee from thy presence? we read together in Psalm 139. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely… I come to the end, you are still with me . Discipleship -- a journey worth taking? I believe so . Amen.
1 From files, article which appeared in a paper called “Funny Times” in 1994.
2 Hubert Beck, from his Sermon on Luke 14:25-33 , E-Mail: hbeck@austin.rr.com
3 C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed , 1961
4 Heschel is quoted by Kari Jo Verhulst, The Dangers of De-Fanging God: Reflections on the revised common lectionary, cycle B, Soujourners Magazine, Nov-Dec 1999 .
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