“The Cost”
September 7, 2025
Rev. Rebecca Migliore
We all know about “cost.” Isn’t that what the Labor Day Sales are doing? Trying to entice us to spend our hard-earned money on something—because now it is on sale, it costs less, it is a bargain. Along with being something that we absolutely have to have, because everyone else has it, or everyone who is anyone has it, etc., etc., etc.
We also know about “cost” because it is one of the deciding point in making decisions in our lives. Before we do something costly, we weigh the pros and cons. If we take this very expensive vacation, will we have depleted our emergency account? Given what are family budget is, can we afford to: embark on a large project for our home? Or how much do we need to put aside for the future for educational costs for the next generation? Can we afford to think of getting a new car—or can our tired “old” one be pressed into service for a little longer?
I don’t want to get too far into this financial musing—most especially because it is becoming very apparent that some of it is seen in a different light by our generational divide. Let’s just agree that we understand the idea of “cost”—something we have to give up, something that requires a choice, or at least a deliberation, something that is not easy, not done on a whim. I’m on this treatise about “cost” because our gospel lesson for today has Jesus saying that there is a huge cost to being a disciple.
In fact, Jesus says, “So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” That’s a pretty big cost! ALL of our possessions! Huh. And Jesus even makes it bigger than that. Not only do we have to give up all our possessions, we need to cut ourselves off from all the people we love in our life, even from our love of life itself! That’s what I hear when Jesus starts out our lesson saying, “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.” That really makes you sit up, or frown, or shake your head or use the immortal words from “Diff’rent Strokes “What you talkin’ ‘bout Willis?”
What is Jesus talking about? Is this the message we preach, that we (the missionary we) spread across the globe? Come join us. But first you have to give up all your possessions, oh, and we preach a message of hate. Hate your mother and father, hate your children, hate your spouse (if you have one)—for that matter, just hate everyone and everything, including life! Aren’t you psyched?
So let’s first tackle that word—“hate.” Is this some form of hyperbole, where Jesus is talking in extremes but everyone knows that he doesn’t mean it? Does Jesus really want us to hate everyone (except him)? Is Jesus saying this to shock us, to jolt us out of our “hey man isn’t this Jesus thing great” mindset? (we do notice that the very first words in this passage are about the large crowds that are following him—and it is to THEM (as well as the rest of us) that Jesus directs these words.) Is he trying to winnow down the hordes, to figure out who is really interested and who is just there because he was the latest fad? Maybe…
Or maybe the word we translate as “hate” should really be translated, or understood, as “like less.” There is a long, long history of God wanting us to “like less” everything other than God. In fact, when the lectionary committee was deciding which Scriptures might shed light on each other, paired this passage with the one from Deuteronomy with such an idea, I bet. In Deuteronomy we are with the newly formed children of Israel, created from the hard times in the wilderness, on the brink of stepping into the Promised Land, the land flowing with milk and honey, and instead of God (through Moses) commending them and lifting them up—there is this hard word. ““See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity… I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live…”
Yikes. Life and Death. Blessing and Curse. A very polar, either/or world. There is no middle ground. Is this what Jesus is mimicking? You must hate those around you, throw away all that you have acquired, give up life itself—that is what following me is all about. Choose Me. Choose God. Choose Life—or else! In this reading, Jesus is talking in the same overarching terms as Moses, as the prophets before him, as God did.
There is one fairly esteemed preacher who faced with this passage decided that this was where Jesus wanted to (in Matthean terms) split the sheep from the goats. And she has suggested that here Jesus set up a hierarchy of discipleship. With the few, the proud, the true disciples as the ones who could step out of their lives, could put everything but Jesus behind them, and could “hate” everything that went before.
And the rest of us, who could only imagine doing such a thing, but couldn’t really act on it, or could only act on it in moments, fragments of our lives, are relegated to the massive “friends of the disciples” category—those who tagged along but weren’t really crazy enough to drink the Kool-Aid when the time came.
I’m not comfortable with this “first class” versus “coach” idea of discipleship. I see no evidence of Jesus thinking that there were better disciples and then “run of the mill” ones. Just the opposite. Jesus is always talking about not participating much less creating separation between the haves and the have nots, the rich and the poor, the well and the sick, the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. Why would Jesus be creating a new system? I don’t buy it.
And I know Jesus could press a point with the best of them. I can see the parallels between this passage and Moses’ speech. But when I really look at what Jesus is trying to say—it comes down to “cost.” That’s what the two examples he uses are about. The cost of building a tower, not just in terms of finances but also in terms of your own reputation. The cost of waging a war, not just in terms of ability to win, but in the loss of your own soldiers, your own men. Jesus doesn’t dwell on the word “hate”—he quickly moves on to the “cost.”
And this is where I think we have a word for us to consider today. Do we ever consider the “cost” of discipleship? Have we ever thought about following Jesus in our lives as asking something costly from us? Or is following Jesus just something that we were born into, something that is as commonplace as getting up in the morning, or getting tired in the evening?
Is following Jesus just something that is part of our routine—it’s what we do on Sunday morning, or what propels us to work at the Food Pantry, or call on those who we know who are sick? Is following Jesus just something that is easy, “no big deal”? Does following Jesus require anything hard from us? Should it? And where is the good news in all this?
Coming from an LGBTQ perspective, we understand the idea of having to let go of biological family and their harmful ideas about our worth (in other words, “hating” mother and father, wife and children, brothers and sisters)—and having to surround ourselves with a chosen family. Those who love us and will stand by us. Maybe Jesus isn’t intending for us to let go of all that we were without saying, there is something else. Let go of those who would pull you away from me, but come and join a new group of those who are walking the Way together.
As I was thinking about “cost” one of the images that came to me was the Viking commercial where the CEO talks about the one true scarcity in our lives being time. What do we spend our time on? (An aside here—that is a word spoken from privilege—many people in our world might say there is scarcity of food, of housing, of love). But the point is, we don’t have all the money in the world, or all the time in the world. We do have to make choices. What do we do on Sunday morning? What do we give to charity if we give at all? Is there any line that we draw in the sand—that we will not cross over?
We are not alone. We stand on the shoulders, or in the shadows of our ancestors in the faith—who have had to face persecution, and times when the world had gone crazy.
In one of those times, 1934 at the Synod of Barmen, the Reformed Church in Germany (through the pen of Karl Barth) put their ideas of Life and Death, Blessing and Curse, hate and love, on paper. And what did they say? That Jesus Christ was the one that they followed and believed—the Jesus that was seen in the Scriptures. And there could not, would not, be anyone or anything else that would become primary in their lives—not Nazism, not a Fuhrer, not even a beloved church if it was cozying up to the powerful forces in their land!
Seen in this context, the words from Jesus today are a radical call. You can’t follow the world and me, God and mammon. You have to make a choice. And that choice may cost you dearly—in people who may not understand, in opportunities lost, in difficult circumstances it may force upon you. But look around you. You will not be alone. There are other siblings here. God is our Shepherd, we shall not want. Friends, what I hear Jesus saying to us is, there may have been times when people thought it was easy, no sweat, to follow Jesus. This is not one of those times. But together we can be faithful. Together we can put God’s intention for our world, for all of us, at the forefront of our lives and our actions. Together, we can choose Life and Blessing and Love.
May it be so, Alleluia, Amen.