All in the Family

Luke 14:25-33, Philemon 1-20
The Rev. Sara Fischer

Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple…So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

Everyone who remembers his or her high school english class remembers the word “protagonist.” Remember what it means? In literary terms, this is not simply the main character, but a character who, in the course of a story, undergoes some significant psychic or moral change. So this morning I want to talk about some famous and not-so-famous protagonists.

On September 11, 2004, United Artists released the movie Hotel Rwanda, the historical drama based on true events that took place during the genocide that erupted in Rwanda in 1994. In a three-month period, the Hutu military killed roughly one million Tutsis. The protagonist in the film is Paul Rusesabagina, played by Don Cheadle. Paul is a Hutu, managing a well-known four-star hotel. Amid the chaos of widespread violence, and fearing for the life of his Tutsi wife and his family, he struggles to maintain the hotel, and protect his family and his closest friends.

In the beginning of the movie, Paul has an unswerving commitment to keeping his immediate family and close friends out of harm’s way. As he becomes increasingly aware of the depth and breadth of the violence all around him, his view of family changes. Throughout the movie, he is the same man, with the same fierce sense of justice and concern for his family. But his definition of who is included in those he cares for changes.

At the beginning, Paul is focused primarily on the lack of resources to care for his inner circle of family and friends. He resists pleas for help from others. At the end of the movie, his very last line is “there’s always room.” His heart has been transformed, not only by his expanded awareness of suffering, but also by his own experience of providing hospitality. In the course of this transformation, everyone becomes his family.

The letter to Philemon is another story of expanded view of family. This story is about a family triangle that includes Paul, who writes the letter, Philemon, who recieves the letter, and Onesimus, a runaway slave who is both the subject of the letter and the messenger who delivers it. The letter is one of the shortest books of the bible. It is one of a very few times in our cycle of Sunday readings that we get practically an entire book in one fell swoop!

Onesimus is a slave from the household of Philemon. Philemon is a new Christian. Paul encounters Onesimus in Ephesus, while presumably both of them are in jail, although for different reasons. (Paul was constantly being imprisoned for stirring up rebellion against the civic religion in the cities he visited; Onesimus was likely jailed as a runaway slave.) Paul sends Onesimus back to Philemon, carrying the letter we heard this morning.

Historically, abolitionists and others have seen this story as maddeningly ambiguous when it comes to slavery. Unlike Jesus, Paul always preached God’s kingdom within the existing social order, and so Paul is not necessarily asking Philemon to set free his slaves. Paul is saying that conversion—deciding to follow Jesus—changes things. It throws up for grabs all of our existing relationships and calls us into new relationships. Paul says that to Philemon Onesimus should be no longer a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother. Paul wants Philemon to exhibit the psychic change that goes along with a conversion. Philemon is the protagonist of this story.

Paul’s letters are filled with the language of intimate family relationships. In this short epistle, we hear the word brother five times. Other disciples are sisters, God is our father. For Paul, this language of family is a metaphor for church life, but it also points to the way that church transforms all of our relationships. Paul is asks Philemon to look at his connection to Onesimus in a new way.

And this is what Jesus asks us to do in today’s Gospel.

If you have a bible with headings along the upper margin, chances are that the pages containing this gospel passage are labeled “the Cost of Discipleship.” This is a familiar passage, full of hard sayings. How can we hate our mother and father, or our spouse or our children? Why would Jesus ask this of us? I think one answer rests in our understanding of the word “hate.” In scripture, the word hate is not as straightforward as it is in our day-to-day speech. (Jacob & Leah example?)

When Jesus tells us to hate our parents or our children, he is saying: Do not hold onto anything too closely, do not confine ourselves to a narrow definition of family. Remember what family means to Paul. Remember what Jesus says elsewhere: who are my mother and my brothers? Here are my mother and my brothers.

Redefining our sense of family throws into question all of our relationships, including our connection to our possessions. Paul asks Philemon to let go, to share his life with Onesimus in a new way; Jesus asks us to let go and to share all that we are and all that we have in a new way.

Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple…So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

Think for a moment, without editing yourself: what’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear Jesus say that you cannot be a disciple if you do not give up all your possessions? Chances are you are holding onto that thing too closely; it is no longer your possession, but it possesses you.

Being a disciple is being a protagonist. Jesus asks us for moral and psychic. What keeps you from being the kind of disciple you want to be? Perhaps it’s your CD collection or your designer shoes or your garage full of nice cars. But I would venture to say those aren’t the things that keep us from picking up the cross and following Jesus. I think it’s those intangible qualities in ourselves that possess us. Now think for a moment about what possesses you. Is it fear? Or pride? Insecurity? Selfishness? Ingrained habits? Perfectionism? Fierce independence? Fear of change? Episcopal reserve rather than wild abandon? Old resentments? These are the possessions that Jesus wants us to give up.

Now, if you have an unhealthy dependence upon your car or your Ipod, I’m not trying to let you off the hook for that, I am just saying that it’s about the attitude, not the thing. It’s about your psyche, which is the Greek word for soul.

In literature, one of the ways we define tragedy is when we have a story in which a protagonist is presented with significant opportunities for psychic and moral change and doesn’t take them. In my little Microsoft Word on-line dictionary, I was delighted to discover that the antonym for tragedy is joy. And so on this “Ministry Sunday,” as we continue with our celebration of all that God has done for us in Jesus, let us let go of all that possesses us, and share our joy.