What Discipleship Really Means

Homily for Wednesday of the Thirty-first Week in Ordinary Time

Today's Gospel is not an easy one.

Jesus turns to the crowds following him and speaks words that sound shocking. He tells them that whoever wishes to be his disciple must carry the cross, must place every other relationship in a secondary place, and must be willing to renounce possessions.

To Jesus' listeners, the cross was not a religious symbol. It was a sign of shame, suffering, and curse. Crucifixion was the most humiliating form of execution known in the Roman world, and it was associated with the scriptural curse pronounced upon one who hangs upon a tree. To tell the crowd that they must "carry the cross" was surely going to drive some of them away.

Following these words, Jesus gives two examples: a builder who calculates the cost before beginning a tower and a ruler who calculates the cost before going to war.

Jesus is not trying to attract more followers. He is making sure that those who follow understand what discipleship really means. There is a tendency to domesticate these words, to make them less demanding than they are. But Jesus does not do that. The Gospel is challenging because the Gospel is about surrender. It asks us to place Christ at the center of our lives and allow everything else to find its place around him.

Yet there is something important to notice. While Jesus speaks of the cost of discipleship, Saint Paul speaks of its joy.

Paul writes to the Philippians from prison. He has endured hardship, rejection, and suffering for the sake of the Gospel. He knows firsthand what discipleship can demand. Still, he tells the Philippians to rejoice. He says that even if he is being "poured out as a libation" upon their sacrifice and service, he is glad and rejoices with them all. Paul has counted the cost. He has paid the price and found Christ worth it.

That is what holds these readings together. Jesus speaks of renunciation. Paul speaks of joy. The cost is real, but so is the grace. The sacrifice is real, but so is the blessing.

Those of us who live as consecrated religious are more than aware of the renunciation that comes with our vows. However, I believe that we are also aware of the joy that can be the result of that renunciation. Yet, consecrated religious or not, all of us are asked to surrender something every day: a selfish desire, a cherished grudge, a need to control, a fear of the future, or an attachment that prevents us from trusting God completely. The cross usually comes to us not in one great heroic moment but in the ordinary circumstances of each day.

The psalm gives us the courage to do that. "The Lord is my light and my salvation." Because the Lord is our light, we need not be afraid of what we are asked to surrender. Because the Lord is our salvation, we can trust that whatever we place in God's hands is never lost.