Come and Die

Genesis 21:8-21    Matthew 10:24-39.

Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, “Cast out this slave woman with her son; for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.

Who was Hagar? Last week, JC told us a little about her origins, an Egyptian woman who was probably part of Abraham’s household when Pharoah expelled him, his wife (Sarah), and all his household and belongings from Egypt. She would have been a possession, a slave. Because Sarah was barren she, most likely against Hagar’s will, offered Hagar to Abraham, who slept with her. Together they conceived a son, who became the heir apparent to all of Abraham’s worldly goods. When God’s promise to Sarah was realized, and she finally had a son of her own, the friction between the two women became unmanageable, and Hagar had to go.

What must Hagar’s life in Abraham’s household have been like? It must certainly have been a roller-coaster ride of emotions.  From being a possession, whom the lady of the house could seize and give to her husband, to the mother of the heir apparent, to – outcast. During the fourteen years, when Hagar’s son was the only heir, her life must have been very comfortable. Though, for obvious reasons, she and Sarah did not get along, it is clear that Abraham was kind to her and delighted with their son. Then, Sarah has a son, and can turn on Hagar and have her expelled.

From slavery, to a comfortable life in a position of some power as mother to the heir, to a woman alone in the desert, watching her child die. And then God steps in, with water and a promise.

Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.

And God keeps His word. Ishmael is the prophet and Patriarch of Islam.

Jesus said, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

What does our somewhat alarming Gospel have in common with the story of Hagar’s expulsion from Abrham’s household?

To understand the connection, it helps if we know to whom the Gospel writer, Matthew, is speaking. The early Christians in the community for whom today’s’ Gospel words were recorded were not called Christians. They were Jews. While Paul carried the Gospel into the world of the gentiles, Matthew and the community that formed around him stayed within the synagogues. These Jews listened to what Matthew preached and they came to believe that Jesus was indeed the long-awaited Messiah. They saw no conflict between this belief and their Judaism, and they went on attending synagogue and leading the life of pious Jews.

Then something happened.  As in any community, power struggles were not uncommon among the Jews, and somewhere near the end of the first century the Pharisees, long time opponents of Jesus and His teachings, took predominance in the community.  Among other things, they took a dim view of, and active dislike toward, the small segment of Jews who were now spreading the Good News of Christ Jesus.  Though Jesus’ followers had officially done nothing wrong, the Pharisees decision as to how to handle the problem was to expel them from the synagogues, to cast them out.  It must have been terrible.  How could this happen?  The Matthean community felt upset, angry, and helpless.

Now we can see the connection between Hagar’s story and our Gospel reading. Both Hagar and the Matthean community have comfortable and routine lives, and then, through no fault of their own, they are outcasts. The difficulty for us is that the story of Hagar and Jesus words to his disciples do not seem to apply to us – but, here’s the catch, they should.   

What we often do not realize, is that, when we live our faith as we are called to do, there is meant to be a cost. This was very evident in the first centuries before the Peace of Constantine, which in 313 AD legalized Christianity and effectively brought the persecution of Christians to an end. This new-found safety, which meant that being a follower of Jesus no longer threatened a death sentence, also had its drawbacks. The faithful could relax, the Church could grow, and with that growth there came, as there always will, problems and heresies. And since then, there have been centuries in which the Church, and I mean us, the faithful, have had time to drift away from the cost of following Jesus and into more comfortable paths.

The most well-known modern-day treatise on the costs of discipleship is by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of my husband’s favourite writers, who was a 20t^h-century German theologian and pastor who resisted the rise of the Nazis in his country, ultimately paying for those efforts with his life.

Bonhoeffer wrote a book called The Cost of Discipleship, in which he tries to define what is required of all who claim the name of Christian. It is a challenging book, but an important one. Bonhoeffer is repulsed by Christians who make the Christian faith cheaper and easier, rather than embracing the true cost and personal sacrifice of following Jesus. And he famously writes in that book, in a moment of heartbreaking foreshadowing, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” But, “come and die” is not an appealing call. What we see in modern times in the way people live their faith, is anything but the life of faith about which Jesus tells His disciples.

In the 1980s, as some of us remember, there were the televangelists. Men “of the cloth” took their varying messages to TV. At first glance it would seem they preached the Gospel without error, and all one had to do was accept the Gospel as they revealed it, and the Holy Spirit, and be “born again”. But then came the promise that if you gave your money to the ministry, you would have a life of happiness and material wealth. When the scandals concealed in these ministries came to light, tens of millions of good, mislead people who had thought this was legitimate Christianity, were stunned to discover they had been duped. But that was almost 50 years ago. Surely, we are past all that?

Have you heard of Christian Nationalism? It’s very big today, especially in the South. When my husband and I were in Memphis, we actually saw a small replica of the Statue of Liberty who, instead of holding up the torch, was holing up a cross. I had to keep driving while my husband kept yelling, “heresy”.

In case you don’t know what the Christian Nationalism ideology claims, it says that our country was divinely founded on Christian principles, that the law of the land should conform to sometimes very fundamentalist principles, and that to be a “real American” one must profess the Christian faith. This definitely appeals to a huge number of people today. Over 30% of American adults, that is millions of people, either actively follow or sympathize with this movement.

Televangelism, Christian Nationalism, and undoubtedly other movements, all of which are heresies, gain popularity because they make those who become involved in them feel “right”, justified, even holier than thou, and because they promise a life of ease and riches. The trouble is, this is all just the opposite of what Jesus has promised us, if we are to truly be His followers.

We need to look at our own lives. Some of the pains we suffer, be they in life situations or health issues, give us the opportunity to thank Jesus for keeping us always aware of our need for Him, and giving us the chance to show our faith through our resilience and patience in the face of suffering. Our struggles are His gifts to us, which can make us more sensitive to others, gifts through which we are meant to grow in grace, and for which we are meant to be grateful. But being grateful in such situations is hard to do, because we all want safe, well-ordered lives – free of personal and financial concerns and worries – and we are definitely attached to what gives us a sense of security. It’s called – being human.

Nonetheless, when we choose to follow Jesus, that commitment requires we reorient all our attachments. Everything else answers to and builds on that. We don’t go ahead and sort out our lives—what we like and what we care about and what we believe in—and then see how we might fit the Christian story into that. No, it needs to be the other way around: Our commitment to Jesus—what He stood for, and stands for, and how He operated and operates—needs to be primary.  We build our lives on that. Hopefully, we will not, like Hagar or the Matthean community, find ourselves outcast, but we must to be willing to take the risk. Jesus, and our commitment to Him, must come first.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus shocks us and prepare us. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.

If we really commit to following Jesus, then some things about us are going to have to change. Some parts of how we live, what we think, what we are attached to, are going to have to die. Each day, this is the struggle we are called to deal with, to detach ourselves from the comfortable and familiar, and be thankful for that which challenges us to live our faith, even when living that faith goes against the comforts and attachments the world condones. This is what it means to “take up our cross” and follow Jesus. This is what it means when Jesus says, “those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” 

 Let us pray:

Heavenly Father, we thank You for the privilege of serving You. Fill our hearts with humility, compassion, and joy, so that every act we do reflects Your love. Grant us strength when we grow weary, wisdom when we face challenges, and patience in all things and at all times. Help us to serve, to honor You, and bless others. May our hands be diligent, our words be kind, and our spirits steadfast in Your calling. Guide our steps so that our service builds Your kingdom and draws others closer to You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.