Holiday Strangeness

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. Luke 14: 26


“The holidays” are upon us. Starting last week with Thanksgiving and continuing on through Christmas and then New Year’s Eve, we gather and celebrate with loved ones and acquaintances as we mark the important events of our faith life and of our secular life. This celebrating usually involves our families in some way.

For some of us, gathering with family is relaxing and joyful. For some of us, it can be stressful and feel like hard work. Even so, family is important. Although it may sometimes feel difficult to spend time together with family, it would be much worse to be separated, estranged.

The dictionary definition of estranged is to be removed from the customary environment or associations; to arouse mutual enmity or indifference where there had formerly been love, affection, or friendliness. The word comes from the same Latin root as strange. It would be strange to be removed from family. I can’t think of any circumstances that would make estrangement feel right.

I know people who are estranged from their families for reasons I don’t understand. How could someone give up a relationship with their parents, their husband or wife, their children, or their brothers and sisters over money, or over possessions, or over politics, or over religion?

And so, when I think about Jesus’ words in Luke’s gospel it makes me very uncomfortable that this is exactly what Jesus asks us to do. Actually, he doesn’t even ask. Jesus tells us that this is what we MUST do in order to follow him.

“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” Luke 14: 26

Especially coming from the mouth of Jesus, these words sound strange. The ambassador of love, the one who once said to a rich young man that in order to have eternal life, he must keep the commandments that include honoring your father and mother and loving your neighbor as yourself, tells us here that we must hate not only our own family, but even our own life in order to follow him.

Something must have provoked Jesus to use such strong language.

Jesus had been traveling and preaching and telling parables. Along the way, huge crowds had accumulated, and were traveling with him. He wanted them to know what they were getting into. Maybe as he looked out over the masses he saw people who weren’t really committed to his cause. Maybe he saw people who were merely swept up in the movement, along for the ride, so to speak, traveling with the crowd because they wanted to see what was going to happen. Maybe he saw people who didn’t understand what he was going to do for them, that he was passionate with love for them, passionate about their salvation, and that he expected them to be passionate, too. Maybe he wanted to kindle a heavenly flame in their bellies, to startle them into action.

I searched for the commentary that said that Jesus didn’t really mean hate. I looked in my Greek books, and learned that the word had been translated correctly. Jesus really did say that we should hate our families, and even hate our own lives to follow him.

One scholar did say that the word hate was a Semitic term expressing detachment or turning away from, and was not the emotion filled word we think of if someone screams, “I hate you!” But even then, Jesus says turn away, detach yourself from what you love, and follow me.

What do we do with this? I, for one, no matter how annoyed or angry I get with them, will not turn away from my family. I’m sure most of you feel the same. But Jesus is telling us in no uncertain terms that becoming a disciple is not going to be easy. Becoming a disciple may create tensions in an already crowded life. When asked for loyalty in many different places, Jesus wants us to clearly understand that he desires and calls for primary allegiance. There is tension. We are not prepared to, probably not even able to hate the people we love. We can’t carry the cross like Jesus did. We are simply not capable of it.

Most of us can’t even get rid of our stuff.

We know the terms of discipleship, and we can’t accomplish them. And so instead of carrying the cross, we fall at the foot of it with all of our inadequacies and failures, and we remember that because of that cross, nothing is required of us.

God’s grace and mercy for our poor selves will help us hear Jesus’ strange words and remember that we can hand all of our relationships and plans and possessions to him, and that he takes care of us. What he started for us at that first family Christmas in a stable in Bethlehem, he will finish for us. Amen.