an interpretation of the new testament as inspired by green day.
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Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even life itself—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their own cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.
Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it? For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you, saying ‘This person began to build and was not able to finish.’
Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Won’t he first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples.
Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is fit neither for the soil nor for the manure pile; it is thrown out.
“Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”
-Luke 14:25-35, TNIV
Disciple
What is it to follow Christ? There are as many answers to that question as there are Christians, and yet is there some standard we are called to keep, something beyond our contextualized United States of America style hermeneutic of comfort and individualism? If there is no transformative post-conversion change in our lifestyles, have we really made the decision to follow Someone outside of ourselves? One general message to be gleaned from this passage is one of warning: count the cost. If you suspect you cannot complete the journey, do not start. Much like Yoda, the Jesus of this passage is advocating a “do or do not, there can be no try” approach to Christianity. In light of the extreme attitudes conveyed, alongside the sometimes extreme past historical interpretations of the text, what is Jesus saying to us today? What does being a contemporary disciple of Christ look like?
On the surface, Luke 14:25-35 appears to be an extreme call to asceticism. Give it up, give it all up, and only then will you be worthy to be considered a disciple. Much like a military pep talk, the voice of Jesus in this passage encourages the listener to weigh the cost, because starting this journey and not carrying it through is death. Many times verse 26 has been interpreted as an excuse for Christians to neglect familial responsibilities in the name of piety, the ultimate sign of devotion to God abandonment of mother and father. I liken the attitude generally conveyed by these words to punk rock band Green Day’s new song Boulevard of Broken Dreams, whose melancholy lyrics glorify a solitary life.
I walk a lonely road,
The only one that I have ever known
Don’t know where it goes,
But it’s only me and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I’m the only one
And I walk alone, I walk alone,
I walk alone, I walk alone,
My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
‘Till then I walk alone…
While the lyrics do not advocate giving up Christ to ‘walk alone’, these words are a prime example of taking the leaving of “father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even life itself” to a level resulting in an intentional wallowing in misery purportedly for the sake of the Gospel. In this hermeneutic, whoever sacrifices the most, and is the most miserable, is the most spiritual. This is not a spirituality of joy, but rather a carefully disguised competition of self-achieved holiness. Racking up bonus points in heaven, not a sense of sacrifice out of love, can too easily become the normative lifestyle. At the same time, it would be foolish to dismiss these claims to sacrifice altogether. Upon pondering the words of Christ, what should be given up for the sake of the Gospel?
Early monastics responded literally to this call to discipleship, leading lives of desert solitude and, in an era preceding e-mail and telephones, left biological family forever in choosing to answer the call. In these cases the monastic community became an idealized family unit. “Ascetic Christians did not argue against family per se, but for a hierarchy of the spiritual family—the Christian community—over its fleshly counterpart—the biological family.” This prioritizing of the spiritual did not absolve one of all responsibility to biological family, at least not in the eyes of one of the early church fathers. In instructing monastics, St. Augustine advised Laetus, a man considering the monastic life but with strong ties to family, to leave his mother out of obligation to his larger, better spiritual family. At the same time, in his communication with married men and women seeking to live out their faith through taking vows, St. Augustine called for faithfulness to familial obligations as a necessary component of faithfulness to Christianity. If a wife or husband did not fulfill the other’s sexual needs, even if that denial was due to a spiritual desire for chastity in service to God, the refusing partner was deemed in error to both God and spouse. Faithfulness to vows toward family came before faithfulness to individual vows to God. The same held for Augustine’s interpretation of the vow of poverty in the context of family: giving away possessions and wealth without the consent of family members was not an act of faithfulness, but a sin. If in his conversion Laetus did not care for his mother and sisters, he would have been in error. The same also held true in cases where such sacrifice negatively impacted one’s family members.
Within the balance of responsibly caring for family members, what radical claims is this gospel message making upon our lives? In Bock, the issue becomes one of priority. “Jesus’ call requires more, even everything, in terms of priority from the disciple.” Caring for one’s family is biblical; valuing those familial ties over the tie to and relationship with Christ is not. In an ancient world context this was
“a call to set aside the relationships, the extended family of origin and inner circle of friends by which one has previously made up one’s identity…here Jesus is calling for the reconstruction of one’s identity, not along ancestral lines or on the basis of one’s social status, but within the new community oriented toward God’s purpose and characterized by faithfulness to the message of Jesus.
Family ties were one’s identity in biblical times. In our current context, the degree to which this was true is difficult to grasp, but an indicator can be found in how people identified themselves to one another. Jewish last names generally associated one with family, i.e. Jesus bar Joseph was literally “Jesus, son of Joseph”. Without locating oneself within a family unit, there was no context for others to know who you were, what your status was within the community. Announcing an allegiance to Christ was in that day a much more costly choice; it is probable that by claiming Christianity in a Jewish context, one would be essentially severing family ties. This could be no casual choice. The call to value God over family meant for many opening themselves to rejection by family when choosing to honor God. If that is the case, we are called to be faithful.
What then is the cost of not following, not prioritizing Christ over relationships, family, life? In simple terms, the text states “such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” This is absolute language. Luke is linking salvation to the willingness to sacrifice life and family, take up the cross of Christ and “follow”. This makes the discipleship not only open to all, but required by all. You cannot be a disciple if you are unwilling to “bear the pain of persecution as a result of following Jesus.” Weighing the cost of this, we are given two examples through which to carefully consider the commitment of discipleship.
The first of two practical examples involves a monetary parallel. In basic language, if you’re going to build a tower, make sure you have the money to build it. Plan ahead. If you don’t, and you can only afford to finish halfway, not only will you have an eyesore in your yard, you’ll look like a dumbass and all your neighbors will point and laugh. Taken allegorically, “don’t start if there is not a willingness to expend all one has, including life itself.” It would seem that “the wise decision involves reflection, not reaction.” This parable reinforces the message of previous verses, concretizing the absolute claim of Christ. The cost of discipleship is such that one must carefully consider its feasibility prior to committing. Perhaps preparation is required; in the case of the parable, one may have to save money in order to build the tower. In our individual lives, what qualities must be cultivated in some way to make the endeavor possible? Perhaps not stockpiling monetary resources, but spiritual resources is in order. Perhaps cultivating a dependence upon the “heavenly” treasures of trusting not in yourself but in Christ, being open to the strengthening and gifts of the spirit, practicing spiritual disciplines and actively engaging the scriptures would be part of equipping oneself for the journey of discipleship, enabling us to finish.
The second parable is a very different example. Set in military terms, the typical Jewish literary tradition of repeating an example in order to emphasize its importance is at work here. Restating the parable in contemporary common language, if you want to fight someone, but know you’re outnumbered and have no chance at succeeding, won’t you send someone to ask to resolve the conflict peacefully? The choice here seems commonsensical: of course one would not choose to fight a losing battle. The classic language of kings is also illuminating. In considering what this passage must mean, I embarked on a non-verbal, pictoral interpretation of the text. In sketching this scene, a new thought arose: if the allegory can be read with Christ/God as the king we are up against—whose forces are so massive we have no hope of victory—our surrender equates to a realization of the superiority of Christ. While Bock reads this text as simply another weighing of the cost with the results of miscalculation being death in place of humiliation, there is something deeper here. In deciding whether to follow Christ there is the question of “can we do it”, but there is also the question of “is there an alternative”. To one who has reached the point of surrender and waived the white flag, surrender to Christ means survival. Choosing to be a disciple at times arises out of the stark acknowledgment that we have not the resources, the strength to continue fighting a claim we have realized as true: Jesus is Lord. It is only in light of that realization that the decision of discipleship becomes unavoidable.
Discipleship in this passage is expanded even further with verse 33. Here the follower of Christ is commanded to relinquish “everything”, commonly interpreted to mean material possessions. This verse may be referencing back to verses 18 and 19 of the same chapter, when those invited to join the wedding feast excused themselves to see after their oxen and fields. Clearly, for those individuals allegiance to material possessions superceded allegiance to Christ. For the disciple, this is not permissible. “[T]he call of God issued by the prophet must relativize all other claims on life.” The disciple must be singleminded: any interpretation of life centered around family, possessions, or self disqualifies one from Christ’s discipleship. While necessarily sounding harsh and exclusive, the remainder of the passage sheds some light into the necessity of such an extreme view.
Here the commentaries find the need to extol the virtues of Palestinian salt, and its probable gypsum-laden sources at the shores of the Dead Sea. Salt as it was found in Israel at that time was contaminated with impurities that would be “thrown out” after the salt had been extracted from the substance, thus a literal interpretation of salt losing its ‘saltiness’. An interesting alternative posed by ancient Jewish rabbinical wisdom likened salt losing saltiness to a mule bearing a foal-both are absurd commonsensical impossibilities. In both interpretations, the bottom line remains the same: unsalty salt is worthless. Indeed the text points out “it is fit for neither the soil nor for the manure pile; it is thrown out.” What does this allegory mean to the Christian? We have already established the call to discipleship as essential to all, as well as the costly nature of responding to that call. In the example of the salt, we are reminded again of the necessity to give all to follow Christ: the one who does not is ‘thrown out’. The disciple who gives up, who is unfaithful, who ‘loses’ saltiness is no good for any purpose of ministry. This is a serious admonishment with serious consequences; scholars interpret it as a warning regarding final judgment, or as taking “something potentially useful and mak[ing] it useless”. The former view is horrible, the latter tragic. That one could be used by God, and instead choose, out of the unwillingness to respond to the call with faithfulness, to be thrown out is a rejection of life as a disciple. This rejection occurs on two levels: our rejection of God’s call, and God’s subsequent rejection, or “throwing out” of us. This underscores the gravity and necessity of each person to respond.
The final verse in this passage could be seen solely as a formality, a signing off: “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear” . Indeed, it was said to be a common phrase of Luke’s time. However, it is significant because it opens the preceding verses to a more inclusive reading. The call to discipleship is not open primarily to Jews, or the wealthy, or the physically able. It is open to “whoever has ears to hear”. While it would be nonsense to literalize it by considering those who are deaf to be excluded from the claim, it is valid to take seriously the ‘whoever has…’ claim. All are called to answer the call to discipleship, all are worthy, commanded, and invited to become followers of Christ. If this inclusionary view is to become commonplace, we must also acknowledge the validity of interpretations of the call to discipleship that are more radically inclusive than the traditional methods employed thus far.
Speaking in terms valid less in our society of plenty than in a more globally common society of need, an alternative interpretation of the ‘counting the cost’ metaphor present throughout this text would focus not upon giving up all the resources one has, or attempting to calculate if one can have “enough” to be successful. Instead, “the point is that, no matter what calculus one uses, no matter what resources one believes one can bring to bear, those assets will be insufficient to secure one’s status before God. Alternative and decisive action is thus required for everyone.” This equalizes the playing field and takes the emphasis off of what one does have, and shifts it validating that we cannot possibly have enough to be disciples of Christ on our own power. We are all in desperate need of Christ to even attempt to respond to the call to discipleship.
All this talk of responding to a call, but what does discipleship mean? What should our response look like? If we are attempting to emulate Christ, our common Western self-centered interpretations cannot be used here. “To be drawn into the New Testament world is not to take a brief vacation in a fantasy land before returning to the “real world.” Reading and interpreting the New Testament must be transformative for the person of faith. “To really enter the world before the text…is to be changed, “to come back different,” which is a way of saying that one does not come “back” at all but moves forward into a newness of being.” In our own Western, privileged context, what would it mean to be changed, to be salt, to count the cost?
Here I turn to theologian Dr. Marva J. Dawn who has done much work on what it means to be a Christian weighing both a global and local consciousness. In speaking of global disparity of resources, Dr. Dawn outlines what global poverty means on an understandable scale. Statistically, more people have died in the past 50 years from starvation and poor sanitation than all the wars fought in the 20th century combined. Just as alarming is what it would cost to change this: $13 billion in annual aid money could meet these needs for the world’s poorest people—citizens of the United State and Europe spend more money on pet food every year. As part of the wealthiest one-fifth, we also consume 86% of the world’s resources, while the poorest fifth consumes a mere 1%. To put it in a different perspective, if we naïvely wished for equality, that all the earth could live as we do today, we would need FIVE planet Earth’s to support such a rate of consumption. Being a disciple of Christ must mean these statistics hit us at a level deeper than numbers. Salt to the world does not sit idly as injustice occurs, but rather recognizes the gross injustice that can only be seen as a sin against God, and speaks out. The cost of discipleship is choosing to live a life that does not perpetuate the myriad inequalities of our world, but fights against them. Last month, I had the privilege of meeting Dr. Dawn in a seminar offered by my denomination. As she shared her story, I could not help but be struck by the literal manner in which she interpreted the call to discipleship.
Dr. Dawn is the author of at least a dozen books on various aspects of theology from social justice minded volumes, to discourses on the theology of worship and prayer as well as research on the theology of ministering to children. By all accounts worldly and Western, she is a successful woman. She should be wealthy, driving a fancy car and living in a multimillion dollar home overlooking some enviably scenic vista. She is a successful professor at Regent College in Vancouver, British Columbia, and is regularly invited to speak all over the globe. There’s just one hitch: Dr. Dawn is not wealthy. By appearance, one would rightly assume that her shopping takes her to Value Village more often than Nordstroms. After writing her first book, Dr. Dawn realized that the money from the royalties was tempting. So tempting, in fact, that if she continued to keep this money, she would always need more. At this point, she established a foundation to care for the proceeds of her work. Each book’s profit goes not to her bank account, but to various causes. For example the money from the book about children’s education goes to fund inner-city educational programs in impoverished urban areas of the United States. A book about the AIDS crisis funds AIDS awareness efforts in Africa. She gave it up, the wealth and prestige and lifestyle, to live simply and attempt to affect change with whatever means God has put in her grasp to use. Could we do the same? Could we
allow the gospel to change and transform us in radical, countercultural, life-affirming ways? Could we be disciples?
Part of the learning process for me has been a restatement of the text in what my friends commonly refer to in Bible studies for people who haven’t read the Bible as “the New Revised Leah Version” of the scripture. I include below my unofficial, prayerfully not heretical, interpretation of the text.
Tons of people were hanging out with Jesus, so he turned around and started talking to them. He said, “If you love anyone more than you love me, your mom and dad, sisters and brothers, friends, or even yourself, you can’t be with me. If you won’t go through hell on earth as I did, if you chicken out and give up, you can’t be with me.
It’s like if you wanted to build a house, you’d sit down and figure out if you had the money because if you started building it, got halfway done and ran out of money it would suck. Your friends would point and laugh, and you’d just have this pile of crap in your yard you couldn’t even live in. You’d have to go live with your mom.
Or it’s like if you were totally pissed at someone, got your friends together and figured you’d better go beat the crap out of them. Only halfway there you got a call on your cell phone that the other person had a bigger group of friends and there was no way you could win: you were going to get your ass kicked. So you call them up, tell them you were wrong, and you want to call it off.
If you’re not willing to give up everything for Jesus—house, money, cars, boyfriend/girlfriend, whatever, it’s not going to work.
If gas stopped making your car run, what would you use it for? Nothing. Nobody would buy it, it would be worthless and you’d dump it out.
Listen up, this applies to everyone.
-Luke 14:25-35
