Göttinger Predigten
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Sixth Sunday a. Pentecost, 06/26/2016
Sermon on Luke 9:51-62 , by Richard O. Johnson
Luke 9.51 When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. 52 And he sent messengers ahead of him, who went and entered a village of the Samaritans, to make preparations for him. 53 But the people did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. 54 And when his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” 55 But he turned and rebuked them. 56 And they went on to another village.
57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 59 To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.” 60 And Jesus said to him, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 62 Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” [ESV]
Come, follow, follow, follow,
Come, follow, follow me.
Whither shall I follow, follow, follow,
Whither shall I follow, follow thee?
To the greenwood, to the greenwood,
to the greenwood, greenwood tree.
It’s a children’s song, a round, known to date at least to the 17th century. It was first written down by an English renaissance composer, John Hilton. But likely it has its roots in some children’s game, some form of “follow the leader.”
It is, however, as a song with serious Christian overtones. After all, it is about being called to follow—and that is Christianity, of course. The Christian disciple is one who is called to follow Jesus. We’re pretty familiar with the call of the first disciples—Jesus saying to these Galilean fishermen, “Come, follow me.” But here in Luke 9 we get a different story—the call to discipleship extended to three unnamed people for whom the call to follow presents a challenge of one sort or another.
The first come up to Jesus with an offer. “As they were going along the road, someone said to Jesus, ‘I will follow you wherever you go.’” Now this is a remarkable proposition. It’s the only place in the gospel where someone comes to Jesus and offers to follow him. You would think that Jesus would have his disciple membership application ready to go! Get this man signed up now, while he’s still eager!
But that’s not the Lord’s way. “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” What a discouraging response! These are harsh words, words designed to put the man off! Jesus is saying, in effect, “Following me isn’t that easy. It means leaving your home, leaving everything behind, having nowhere to lay your head.”
The cost of discipleship
Of course Jesus never said that following him would be easy. You’ve know the verses: “If anyone would follow me, let him take up his cross. . . “ “Can you drink the cup that I drink?” “Sell everything you have, and give to the poor, and come, follow me.” All those difficult words. He is presenting, honestly and forthrightly, what Dietrich Bonhoeffer would call the “cost of discipleship.”
I don’t suppose there is anything in Christianity that is harder for us to accept. In our society it doesn’t cost much to be a Christian—or so we often think. One of the biggest mistakes the church makes, it seems to me, is to downplay the cost of discipleship. We do it in many ways. In my files I have an article which talks about what was required, at least some years ago, to join the Church of South India. New church members there were asked to commit themselves to attend worship every week. They had to promise to pray in their homes every day, and to attend classes on the Bible and Christian faith. They committed themselves, even if illiterate, to learn to read the Bible for themselves. They promised to tithe, giving one-tenth of their income to the work of the church. They committed themselves, in that time and place where the caste system was a strong social force, to eat a meal with someone of a different caste, and thus demonstrate their faith that all people are equal in God’s sight. Finally they had to take the responsibility to win someone else to be a Christian. If those were the requirements to be a member of this congregation, would you find yourself here this morning? Most of us probably wouldn’t. We’re not ready to make our commitment to Christ quite so costly.
What is the cost of discipleship in our day? What does being a Christian require? Well, we could start by saying it has something to do with money. That seems an odd place to start, but Jesus often started there. He told the rich young man that he’d have to give up all his material possessions to be a disciple; he suggested to the man in today’s gospel that Christian disciples often give up the security of their home—the Son of Man, you see, has no place to lay his head. In our materialistic society, if we don’t hear the call to discipleship as having quite a lot to do with materialism, then we’ve not heard it very clearly.
Give until it hurts
A few years ago I drove by a church in Southern California—a big, beautiful church on a busy street. There was a sign in front of the church, with the pastor’s name, the service times, and so forth. And there, at the bottom of the church in big letters, these words: “This church does not have a financial campaign.” What a way to advertise! They were obviously catering to people who didn’t like to think about the Christian implications of money; but I think they misunderstood the cost of discipleship. Following Christ means reordering your financial priorities.
When the late Ronald Reagan was governor of California, he opposed the state withholding tax, saying that people ought to have to pay their taxes directly because taxes ought to hurt. I don’t know about that as public policy, but from a Christian stewardship perspective, he had a point. Christian giving ought to be felt. If what you give to the work of Christ isn’t a noticeable part of your personal budget, then you haven’t really decided to follow Christ in that particular aspect of your life. We often say just the opposite: “Give just a little more,” we say, “you’ll never miss it.” What we should be saying is, “Give a lot more! Give until you start to feel it!” Then maybe we would begin to understand the cost of following Christ.
But not yet . . .
“Jesus said to another, ‘Follow me,’ but he said, ‘Lord, first let me go and bury my father.’ But Jesus said, ‘Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.’” Now scholars tell us that probably the man’s father wasn’t literally dead; he was likely elderly, and what the man was really saying was, “Let me wait until my father dies, and then I’ll be free to follow you.” So we begin to understand that the man is like all of us who intend to follow Christ—but not quite yet. Not until we take care of important personal business.
What Jesus is telling us, however, is that following him is an urgent call. It’s something that cannot be put off. Some years ago my great-uncle Dan was sitting in a chair, and he decided that his pulse was too low. He called his doctor, but the doctor was out of town. The doctor on call listened patiently, and then suggested that he just take it easy for the weekend and see the doctor on Monday. But Dan felt there was something really wrong, so he went to the emergency room. There a cardiologist examined him and immediately admitted him to the hospital and put in a pacemaker. He told Dan that if he had waited until Monday, he probably would have died.
It’s that kind of urgency that the call to follow Jesus contains. His words to this man are directed to all of us who have great piles of excuses about why we’re not more serious about our faith right now. “We’ll think about that later,” we say. “Right now other things are pressing.” And the problem is, we’re right! Other things are pressing. What could be more important than caring for an aged father? This man isn’t offering a flippant excuse, but a very cogent reason. But Jesus is insistent. Nothing, he says, is more important than following Christ—and doing it now, today.
All else is secondary
Then another man says, “I will follow you, but first let me say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus replies, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” In that response, we hear something else about discipleship. Jesus wants singleness of purpose. If a man’s job is plowing a field, he can’t have his mind on what’s happening back at the house; if he looks back, he can’t plow a straight line.
And so with us. If we are to be disciples of Christ, Christ must be our primary concern. Our commitment to him, you see, is not recreation, not extracurricular, not a nice social club to which we belong. It’s the main event. Everything else in life, everything else, is secondary. Or perhaps a better way to put it is this: everything else in life—and that means our family, our career, our relationships—everything else in life must be put into the context of our commitment to follow Christ. Indeed, a full and complete commitment to Christ is the only way we can fulfill the commitments we make to others.
And this following him, where does it lead? Ah, my children’s song—so charming and simple—contains the answer. It leads to the greenwood tree—that is, it leads to the cross. It means leaving self behind, it means never being the same. It means dying to self and rising to Christ. It means putting to death in us all those things Paul recites—strife, jealousy, anger, envy—“crucifying the flesh,” Paul says, “with all its passions and desires.” And rising to Christ, which means love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, and all the rest. A discipleship that is costly, urgent, and that leads to the cross: it is, for us, the only way to live, and the only way to die.
Come, follow, follow, follow,
Come, follow, follow me.
Whither shall I follow, follow, follow,
Whither shall I follow, follow thee?
To the greenwood, to the greenwood,
to the greenwood, greenwood tree.