23rd Sunday 2022
Wisdom 9:13-18; Philemon 9-10, 12-17; Luke 14: 25-33
Today’s Gospel is a bit of a tram-stopper. What do we make of it?
I think that the first thing to mention is that it is something of a hotch potch, cobbled together by Luke, or whoever was responsible for the final shape of his Gospel, from sayings dating from different times. Why do I say that? Because the two parables about the tower builder and the warlike king do not relate to the rest of the passage, despite efforts to fit them in, represented by the words translated as “and indeed” and “so, in the same way”.
Let’s leave these parables to one side for a moment and concentrate on the rest of what Jesus says. Bear in mind that He is speaking, not to His small group of disciples, but to the crowds who are following, who are drawn from the highways and byways, as He recently commented in one of His parables. He is, as it were, spelling out to the general public the requirements of discipleship.
What are they? Well, at first sight they seem to involve hating. Surely not? This is the Jesus who constantly emphasises the centrality of love: how can He be calling people to hate?
We have to remember that, despite our tendency to think otherwise, Jesus was not an Englishman: He was a Palestinian Jew, a term which sounds like an oxymoron given today’s political situation in the Middle East. Consequently, He used the idioms of a Palestinian Jew, where “to hate” meant “not to cling to”, “not to be possessive of”, “to be willing to let go of”.
That becomes clearer when we do skip the intervening parables and move straight to the conclusion: “none of you can be my disciple without giving up all their possessions”. For once, the English translation expresses the meaning better than the original Greek. “Possessions” implies “possessiveness”, than which few things are more destructive. Once we become possessive, we actually become possessed, because the person or thing which we possess turns the tables and possesses us. We become obsessive, and therefore obsessed—literally “laid siege to”.
There is a false form of love, where the alleged lover attempts to control the object of his desire, to possess her body and soul, to direct her every movement: this is destructive of both parties and now constitutes a criminal offence named “control and coercion”. True love rejoices in the other person’s freedom, and therefore in one’s own, and amounts to the “hating”, of which Jesus speaks here.
So, are you and I willing to let go of people and of things, which can include such concepts as our own routine, our own way of doing things, our time and our space? If so, we shall be free to become disciples: if not, we will be trapped by the very things to which we cling.
This is where the two parables can be brought back into play. They can be seen as an invitation to consider the implications of discipleship. Am I willing to accept the call to follow, knowing that it will be difficult, demanding? Am I prepared to answer “Yes” to God, to open myself to Him, to say in effect “Whatever you want of me, I shall do” aware that it will be costly, though never destructive?
We need to ponder, though not indefinitely: we need to calculate, but not seeking total certainty, which we can never have. At some point, we have to accept the balance of probabilities and to say “Yes Lord, I think that this is what you are asking of me in this situation, at this stage in my life. Give me my particular cross, and let us get moving in faith and hope—and never forgetting charity”.
