Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Luke 14:25-33

Welcome to Kick-Off Sunday, or, as it is known in the Gospel of Luke: Hate Your Family Sunday. If your family was like mine growing up, you already know something about conflict. We had some our biggest, loudest fights on the Lord’s Day. The beginning of the program year signaled the resumption of the weekly struggle for my parents to get us up, dressed, out the door, into the car, and to church for the start of Sunday School. I, of course, knew the significance of the day: an attendance pin was at stake. However, my sister seemed to have no awareness that being tardy was as good as being absent. You could miss the roll call. In addition, since there were three of us; one had to sit in the middle. Each of us, who could remember in great detail the last time a sibling was in error, had no capacity to remember who sat in the middle the last time, only great clarity that, “It is not my turn.”

Sunday mornings were the most regular near-cursing experiences in our family life, ending only when ordered, “just get in the car.” On Sunday, remembering the joy of Christ’s resurrection, our car was filled with the perfume of angry resentment, exasperation, and righteous conviction about the justice of the current situation. If hatred of your siblings is a requirement of discipleship, we were well on our way.

Truthfully, my sullen siblings in the backseat of the car and I were never allowed to use the word hate. My mom had a sense of the power of words, and some just shouldn’t be said aloud. It was simply wrong to hate, whether it was a person or a green vegetable.

Especially now, it seems risky in a world awash in hatred to read a passage out loud that suggests hate could ever be a strategy for God’s people. Too many are taking that literally right now. We’re going to have to do a little work to move this passage in the 21^st century.

We have a modern psychological and social understanding of hatred. It is a complex emotion that requires nurturing over time. Feelings of vulnerability or threat make us turn toward our in-group for protection, and our defensive aggression gets focused on a perceived outside group. Or we project that parts of ourselves we fear or hate onto others. “I’m normal. They’re not.”[1] It leads to dehumanizing. When hatred finds power those feelings get structured into policies, laws; built into detention centers and death camps. Hatred is taught and functions most effectively when it is unexamined and is affirmed as a rational perspective to current problems. Increasingly, hate has become a category of people, a label. “She’s a hater,” as we expound on all her terrible behaviors, usually making ourselves feel virtuous, never noticing that we’ve become the same thing.

When hate is used in the Bible, it doesn’t have that same meaning. It means to turn away from something. Hatred can have pros and cons, for example in Ecclesiastes: “There’s a time for love, and a time for hate.” Just like love in the Bible is more an action than a feeling, so is hatred. Hatred can move you away from something that is hurtful or wrong. It’s not used as a label and never used in a binary sense, as if a person is either a hater or not.

Luke was writing to gentile audience. In the Roman world, family wasn’t the nuclear family as we know it, formed and held together by bonds of love. It was a social institution that conferred status, wealth, and ensured the future of the family. In the chapters we’ve been reading over the last few weeks, Luke is addressing people who have status. “If you have a banquet, do it this way.” In today’s reading, Jesus is saying that to be a disciple you have to turn away, even hate, the honor and status that has been bestowed on your family. This isn’t a rejection of people per se, but a rejection of the way the world worked. In a way, Jesus is simply being practical. If you want to sign up for this program, count the cost. The system would fight back. Make sure you know what you’re getting into. This isn’t for everyone.

I never understood how the last verse of this reading was connected to the rest, until I read just this week that the Greek word translated as give up is often used to mean “say farewell.” In other words, whoever wants to be my disciple better say farewell to your possessions. You will no longer receive the benefits of the world and you may be considered dangerous for rocking the boat. Say farewell to door-opening affirmation, goodbye to the finer things, sayonara to the titles, adios to the place of honor or even an invitation to the glittering parties of the powerful, Auf Wiedersehen to prestigious degrees or organizations, arrivederci to the connecting fun of labeling everyone in the other political party as despicable, au revoir to whatever confirms your bias, including what you’re probably watching on social media or your favorite news outlet.

There’s a stark choice in Luke’s world view. On one hand is the Old Testament vision, embodied in Jesus life, of a nation that used God’s love as an organizing principle, a compassionate community where even the most vulnerable, the stranger, have enough of everything needed to experience shalom; sacrifice and generosity would be political values; understanding, mercy, forgiveness, rehabilitation are the responses to breaking the law; a nation that doesn’t conquer or dominate but partners and shares; a nation that is joyful, open, humble, and kind.

On the other hand is Rome’s world, structured around entitlement, wealth, and power. It is held in place by accumulation, violence, and the domination of others. This is the nation that is forgetful, suspicious, greedy, fearful, unexamined, insecure, but hides that through imperial bluster, manufactured fear, and unreflective patriotism.

Ched Myers calls this conflict as one between Sabbath economics and affluenza, sickness induced by wealth.[2]

Although we haven’t used them lately, the Baptism liturgy has renunciations before the confession of faith. It comes from centuries ago when adults would turn toward the West, the place of setting sun, symbolic of death and sin, and be asked, “Do you renounce the devil and all the forces that defy God? Do you renounce the powers of this world that rebel against God? Do you renounce the ways of sin that draw you from God?” Then they would turn to the east, the place of the rising sun, Easter morning, and be asked, “Do you believe in God the Father?” Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God? Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit?” This is no different than Moses’ call to “Choose life.” Or Jesus invitation to “Count the cost.”

We should be clear. On God’s side, baptism is one-and-done. Jesus is a YES to you. God’s love is unconditional. Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Nothing. Even on Ash Wednesday, a day focused most on sin, the opening prayer begins, “O God, you hate nothing you have made.” Mercy comes first. Grace is the subject of the sentence. I suspect if Jesus was organizing the Sunday School at the church where I grew up, he would have passed out the attendance pins on the first Sunday, likely even to my sister who clearly did not deserve a pin, totally upsetting the system and undermining the award-based, shame-assigning strategy to get us there.

After the shooting at Annunciation Church, we know that the stakes on these issues is even higher. It takes courage to come to church and practice a world that is counter to what is on the other side of the stained glass. When I was interviewed on MPR the day of the shooting, I didn’t say the following. I was I afraid I would say it quite right and wondered if it was the right time.

We probably need more sensible gun laws, but even that conversation avoids the bigger truth. The American way of life loves violence. The United States is the largest producer and exporter of weapons in the world. Every one of us is wealthier because the economy is inextricably tied to that trade. Conflict creates a profit. Hate sells. The Second Amendment is treated as if its sacred but has become a source of evil. Every change in presidential administration, no matter what party, leads to a surge in gun sales. Fear of losing their easy availability or fear of instability and violence. Research in this country is often connected to defense, no matter what you decide to name the department. Shrapnel in Gaza says “Made in the USA.” Our entertainment is bloody, violent, and must get increasingly graphic to be effective. Our gaming asks young people to strap on an assault weapon and kill things. Our language is filled with violent metaphor: dodged a bullet, a shot gun approach, killed it, a moving target, witch hunt, a straight shooter. National history is one of conquest, theft, and murder in the name of enlightened progress. Gun violence is creating a pool of trauma that left unaddressed and unhealed becomes the breeding ground for more hatred.

Let the people of God say: No.

I know that saying no to violence sounds like a no-brainer but in reality is complex, difficult, and incredibly ambiguous. Maybe it’s brilliant that Jesus uses family and possessions as the place for considering life and death. He locates it in the everyday pattern of relationships and things around us. Maybe we just begin where we are. How do we say yes to love and mercy in our divided and complicit families? How do we unhook from the forces that are schooling us to be anxious and hateful? What can we say no to this week that will bring us a little bit closer to the world God so loves? What can we say yes to this week that will make things better instead of worse? Or, at least, how do we resist making it worse, jumping on the bandwagon of community built on the disgust of others? What are the “possessions,” the things we’re holding onto because of fear or insecurity, that Jesus is calling us to give up? What is the cost of healing, love, justice, and compassion?

All of this I say with not one shred of despair or hopelessness. God has said YES to us and to the whole creation. God is present alongside us to give us the gifts and ability to change, create, and renew. The world of YES, God’s future, is not far off or dependant on us. It has arrived already in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. That’s the good news that gives power to step up to this moment, to say no, and to say yes.

But before we kick this whole thing off, come to the table where the world we seek is already set before us, where Christ has paid the price for the feast, where the fullness of God’s heart is given away, where the new way rises to meet us, placed in our hands.

For you. For you. And even for…my sister.

[1] https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/nurturing-self-compassion/201703/the-psychology-of-hate

[2] Bartimaeus Collective Ministries website: https://bcmonline.org.