Our children, our idols

"Now large crowds were traveling with [Jesus]; and he turned and said to them, ‘Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, “This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.” Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions" (Luke 14:25-33).

There are many commandments in scripture that are difficult--nay, impossible--to follow. "Love the Lord your God with all your soul, strength, and might, and love your neighbor as yourself" (Luke 10:27). Good luck getting that one perfectly right! It is verses like those that led Paul in his letter to the Romans to conclude that the purpose of the law is to condemn us and drive us to Jesus--that we cannot, in fact, get the law right, so the law cannot make us any more holy (cf. Romans 3:19-20). This has always made sense to me not only because it is what Paul says but also because it follows from Jesus' teaching as well, e.g. following the story of the rich man and the famous camel-through-the-eye-of-the-needle parable, the disciples ask Jesus, "Who then can be saved?" Jesus responds "For mortals it is impossible but for God all things are possible" (Matthew 19:26).

So, on some philosophical level the hardest commandment is always the first one, because we don't ever get past that one. But most of us do not live like the first commandment is all there is. Instead, we seek out more specific commandments--commandments that apply more directly to our lives--which brings me to the commandment that I've been wrestling with for the better part of the last year--the commandment from Luke 14:26, quoted above.

Now, again philosophically, the hardest part of the scripture above is undoubtedly taking up our cross and following. That's something few of us are really willing to do, and none of us will do it perfectly. But we all know those aren't the hardest practical words in this passage. For most of us the hardest practical words are the bold words: "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple." This verse is so offensive to us, so backwards to our usual way of thinking, that people either A) ignore it, or B) explain it away. I've heard the explanation that Jesus was speaking in hyperbole, which may be true but it doesn't excuse us from trying to understand what he's saying, and I've heard these verses softened, as they are in the New Living Translation, which reads, "If you want to be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison--your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters--yes, even your own life." The "by comparison" part is nowhere in the Greek and is a wishful-thinking on the part of the translators.

Let's be honest: We are offended that Jesus tells us to hate our families. We just are.

I began to understand this better when I had a daughter of my own. She's almost three now and it has changed my life, as it does for any parent. Most of the ways it has changed me were kind of expected--less time, less sleep, more love for her, more strain (in some ways) on my wife and I, and also, frankly, more joy. But there is one way, directly relevant to this scripture, that I didn't necessarily expect to be changed. Before Natalie was born I was willing to die for my faith. I mean, I was happy to live and, all things being equal, I would have loved to live to be 95 years old, but I also understood that this place was not ultimately my home. I wanted those I knew and loved to know that if something happened and I no longer lived I would die fulfilled. I didn't need to live forever (I didn't expect to).

All that became much harder after Natalie. I never really understood that cliche begging-for-life scene in countless movies where the victim, about to be killed by some evil-doer, says, "Have mercy on me... I have a family!" I didn't get it until I had it, because I didn't feel what it was like to feel as if you've never given enough to your child. Parents feel an enormous sense of duty to their children--as it should be!--and for me, as I'm sure it is for others, I now have an added reason to live, to teach and to provide. I wanted to live before; now I feel like I need to.

It's important for me to recognize this, because that sense of needing something can be an indication of trouble on the horizon. The very human, very natural, very loving, and very good inclination to provide for our children lays the foundation for our greatest idol: Our children themselves. Our children, my child, is the greatest idol I will ever have to face. And I know it's the greatest idol I have because it's the thing--above all other things--that I'm afraid of losing. Take my life, but not my daughter's! Who wouldn't make that sacrifice?

This is the hardest commandment because Jesus puts an arrow on the quiver and shoots right through our hearts to the thing we value most. Children are the next-best of all things, but Jesus knew we would put them before God. We do put them before God. So, God-forbid, if something were to happen to my child would it make me question my faith? And, if so, why? I'm perfectly willing to accept a world where I might die but not my child? God does not promise that our children will outlive us, and that's a hard thing to take.

I see it in the eyes of parents when we have this conversation. Last Wednesday at Confirmation we talked about idols and I brought this up. Whenever I do I get the sensation that the room cools; that the atmosphere becomes more tense. I also get the sense that we're getting to the heart of the thing--that herein lies the one true, great idol of American independence. Here stands our golden calf, and it is our children--children we would do anything for, children we would die for, children who embody our hopes and dreams.

I believe that Jesus offers this harsh command because of the risk of making our children into idols, but I also believe that there is a second significant effect of valuing our children above our God. This effect is that we minimize the fact that other people are other people's children too, and we act as if our relationships matter more than theirs. We value the home-team above the visitors. This is natural, but it marks a departure from the path of discipleship. We are not so special, and so righteous, that our feelings toward our children are any better than the feelings of other parents in other places. Yet, we try to eliminate any or all risk from our children, even if it means putting other children in danger, and we do it out of a sense of righteous duty. Nobody will convince a person acting out of righteous devotion that they are wrong, so Jesus says, "Then you must hate... but not the thing you were expecting."

Jesus knew we would do this. This is why we have this passage: to remind us, if we are willing to listen, that to be a Christ-follower is to deny not just the things that tempt us a little--as if God is especially proud that a person who does not like beer refrains from drinking it or a person who does not like to spend money refrains from buying something nice--but that we must deny even the things we hold closest to us--things that are good and right but do not hold salvation. Our children will not save us and, most importantly, neither will we save our children. This is what the law tells you. It's what Jesus tells you! It's the hardest commandment. So meditate on it and I'll continue to do the same.