"Servants of Devotion"
Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Sermon preached by Matthew Ruttan, Ministry Student
Jeremiah 18: 1-11
Psalm 139
Philemon 1-21
Luke 14: 25-33
“Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
Parades can be a marvellous thing. I don’t know about you but I have very fond memories of parades growing up in the small town of Bracebridge, Ontario a few hours north of here – perhaps better known as the home of Santa’s Village. Parades were a source of particular pride for us because when the Christmas parade rolled around we got to welcome back a native of ours – yes, jolly old St. Nick. We had the real deal. Mr. Kringle knew us quite well because of our summer hospitality to him, Mrs. Claus, and, of course, his fleet of reindeer; and everyone gathered to welcome them back.
But when you think about it parades – no matter the city or town – are a mixed and bizarre bag of our culture’s odds and ends. Normal rules of every day life get thrown out the window as an off-the-wall procession takes centre stage: main streets get closed off from bustling traffic, cars, trucks, and floats slowly hover by as un-seat-belted people wave out windows and dance on roofs, children scramble to gather up candy thrown from strangers, grown men in clown suits squirt water on unsuspecting grandmothers, band music blares in every direction as performers march in time in white gloves and funny hats. It is a real-life scene from a Dr. Seuss book.
Parades are a strange, exciting, and exceptional affair. They gather many different kinds of people – some in need of a smile, some in need of a distraction, and some who seek out the newest thing in town, no matter what that is.
An ancient parade of people is the setting of today’s Gospel from St. Luke. Picture a hodgepodge of people following Jesus to Jerusalem. They make up the Jesus parade. People from a wide spectrum of life were coming together to take in this captivating man – this Jesus of Nazareth – the one whom more and more people were talking about; the one who was doing amazing things; the one who they said was the One. We do not know the complete background of these followers. But there they were – like us – following him for a whole variety of reasons, many of which we don’t fully understand.
Parades are usually festive. They have about them a happy quality. A throw your cares to the wind, don’t count the calories, type of quality. But that was not exactly the case in today’s story, as the Jesus parade slowly made its way toward Jerusalem and as more and more people congested the streets to see what all the fuss was about. Surely it would have been noisy, surely something spectacular was happening. Something was. But there was something different about this one.
Jesus felt the crowd. He knew them. Perhaps many were following him because he was simply exciting. Perhaps many knew that he was trekking to that great and holy city of Jerusalem, and thought that this dark horse Son of Galilee would lead an aggressive political coup on the dreaded Romans when he got there. Perhaps many knew him to be one of those wonder-workers who did amazing things. Who wouldn’t want to follow someone who could turn water into wine!
Whatever their thoughts, whatever their conceptions of him, Jesus turned around to address them directly as a group and he exclaimed these hard words: “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.”
Jesus wanted to make it clear that he was no road-side attraction, no carnival captain. His words were difficult, challenging, perplexing. They were not romantic. They were not a commercial trying to lure people in. In them we find many things with which to be uncomfortable. And in some ways they seem paradoxical. After all, Jesus was extraordinarily loyal to his Jewish faith. That great commandment comes to mind: “Honour thy father and mother.” So what was this? What of his words that Luke previously told us?: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you…Do to others as you would have them do to you… Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” Merciful not hateful!
But Jesus’ words from today, about carrying a cross, even through the middle of the most cherished of relationships and securities, are the ones that are usually glossed over. It is easy to see why. And although it is true that Jesus’ use of the word “hate” in this context is a case of Semitic hyperbole, it is tempting to see his words as exaggeration for effect only and to therefore completely disregard them altogether – falling back on that old mantra: “You really can’t take that literally, you know.”
But lying at the heart of his statement was a serious and sobering word to the crowds – crowds who risked being distracted by all the wrong things; who risked being held back by ties that might keep them away from God’s mission of absolute love. To them he offered a gut check: becoming his follower – doing God’s will required sober, thoughtful, and (possibly), costly devotion – devotion that would last beyond the fleeting ecstasy of the electric atmosphere; devotion that would shine after the lights went down; devotion that had teeth over the long haul on a road he knew was rocky. If one was going to be a follower of Jesus they had better be prepared to put everything else second. Everything.
Jesus’ parade was trimmed with dark shadows. It was, after all, in part, a funeral procession. Jesus knew this. And despite his constant warnings to his disciples, it never really seemed to register with them. Just imagine the merging of a festive holiday parade with a funeral procession. Two different emotions coming together: joy and sorrow, smiles and tears. After all, Jesus was walking toward Jerusalem and would arrive during the Passover festival – an annual pilgrimage celebrating Israel’s freedom from slavery in Egypt – truly a thing to celebrate. But in Jerusalem there also awaited the cross of his death: the cross that would confront him and his message of absolute love; the cross of the Romans that would try to stare down and intimidate him and his followers; the cross that was anything but pleasant.
Jesus didn’t require clowns for the difficult journey that lay ahead, he required servants of devotion – servants whose devotion was like an anchor: rock solid and unmoveable even when the storm clouds began to gather. “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
Regrettably, over the passage of time, the cross has lost some of its power as a Christian symbol. Yes, it is a reminder of Jesus and of his sacrifice of love and that, I think, has stayed relatively in focus. The fact that it is bare, with Jesus no longer on it, is a reminder of his resurrection. It is empty because God has raised him. It is a reminiscence of Easter morning. But Jesus in Luke’s Gospel was speaking before his resurrection. At that point it was not yet understood by his followers as a symbol of victory. The cross was dreaded. It was how the Romans killed agitators.
To put his words in today’s language, his use of the word ‘cross’ can perhaps be likened to him looking at crowds of enthusiastic followers and saying, “Whoever does not carry the electric chair and follow me cannot be my disciple.” “Whoever does not wear the noose and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
In today’s Gospel, St. Luke relays a story of Jesus issuing a warning. If anyone considered following him, they must not be distracted by the flashing lights and powerful deeds. They must think seriously before setting out on the difficult journey behind him. Yes, following him was the way to true life, true joy, and true love – but there may be costs.
As Christians reading this story 2000 years later it continues to speak to us and challenge us in our own discipleship despite the passage of time that lies between us. We are still asked: Are we willing to bear a cross? Are there things standing between us and him that prevent it? Things in our family life? Social life? Work life? Religious life? Are we willing to do what Jesus asks his followers and put God’s mission of absolute love first no matter what resistance might come our way?
Our decision to take up a cross – that is, if we make it – is not always easy in our time. Christianity faces increasing hostility in a culture which is increasingly secular. We live in an age which many people call “post-modern” and which is defined by values that are relative and fluid, by increasing individuality – that is to say, disconnectedness between people, and by the construction and glorification of fake personalities and images. Authenticity is a rare commodity.
In our day anything that is costly or that requires unglamorous, daily, faithful commitment or long-term service is often frowned upon as “unproductive.” Servant-hood is often seen as naïve in a culture populated with self-designated idols, whose only conception of service is to, of and for themselves.
But, in this climate, I wonder if the Church doesn’t have a wonderful opportunity to present an alternative way of life. I wonder if we just can’t be the ones who by carrying a cross can’t bear witness and inject a dose of hope and discipleship back into the veins of a society deprived of Jesus. I wonder if we can’t be a shining beacon of devotion in a world of despair and confused loyalties. In a world that so desperately needs a love that is absolute – not conditional.
Do we hear this invitation? Or do we turn away when the going gets tough? Would we prefer to just enjoy the nice cozy feeling we get at the high and easy times of our journey of faith? Or are we willing to look into our future and say we are here for the long haul no matter what obstacles come our way? Are we a cheap party hat that flies away any time the wind blows? Or are we, St. Andrews – Christians – an anchor in this city and in our own lives?
Are we able to bear a cross if and when nothing or no one else will bear it? As a new chapter in our congregation’s life begins, are we able to strengthen and intensify the community of faith, hope, and love we so long to be in this city in 2007 and beyond?
Each one of us is one of God’s fingerprints and together we make up a strong family that nothing and no one can separate. No electric chair, no humiliation, no fear, no threats of extinction. We are followers of Jesus and the love we are invited to share with this world cannot be sidelined by anyone or anything, if we say ‘yes’.
It may be a difficult journey. And yes, absolutely, there are joyful parts. There have been many in this Church’s history and there continue to be; but there are also challenging parts. There always are. That is why life is such a matrix of busy amber-light intersections.
But along with a cross Jesus offers us a promise. He says: “Follow me… Follow me.” That is to say, he is always there in front, leading us if it is him we choose to follow. No matter the path, he has walked it. No matter the joy, he has shared it. No matter the pain, he has lived it. His call to discipleship is always therefore an act of communion. With each step, with each new act of devotion – no matter how big or how small – we get closer and closer to him – the healer of the world.
In closing, hear this simple poem:
There stood a cross upon a hill
against the dawn its shadow grew
it covered much the city wall
beyond the valley quietly
The view was sad but as the sxn
rose it felt a wind draw near
embracing wood from soil to sky
and telling Word of God’s new life
A voice of joy and fear was heard
confusion masked a woman’s smile
“Death is dead, the seed has come”
whispered through a tear of love
Someone came back up the hill
to touch the cross that bore the weight
so hope could shine one more day
then walked away to follow him
And down they went so slow but sure
beyond the valley quietly
against the dawn their shadow grew
Is it you? Is it you?
Amen.