The Cost

The Church of St. Paul & Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

September 8, 2019

Year C, Proper 18: The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Jeremiah 18:1-11

Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17

Philemon 1-21

Luke 14:25-33

The Cost

            Lately I’ve been reading a truly amazing book.

            It’s called The Warmth of Other Suns and it tells the story of what historians call the Great Migration, the huge exodus of African-Americans from the South to the North that took place from the early 1900s to the 1970s.

            As most of you know, I used to teach history, so I was aware of the Great Migration but I never appreciated the huge scale of it, the enormous number of black people who had enough of the everyday indignities and the frequent brutality of Jim Crow – the enormous number of black people who were drawn to the North, where the racism was somewhat less oppressive and the economic opportunity much greater.

            It’s been heartrending to read the stories of some of the people who managed to work up the courage to escape.

Yes, escape.

Although slavery had long been abolished, the truth was that sharecropping really wasn’t much better and there were lots of legal (and, of course, illegal) ways to keep black people right where they were.

            In the end something like six million people migrated north and west, finding new homes and making new lives in places like Oakland, Milwaukee, Chicago, Newark, New York, and, yes, Jersey City.

            There had long been a small African-American population here but it began to grow around the time of the First World War, right around the time that the Church of the Incarnation was founded and began to flourish, surely not a coincidence.

            So, that means for some of you this isn’t history to be learned in a book but history found in your own family trees, history remembered at each family reunion.

            Although the North wasn’t exactly a race-blind paradise, on the whole, life was better here. Yet, reading the stories of these brave sojourners, I’m struck by the cost of it all:

            The cost of leaving behind beloved family and friends – and the cost for those who were left behind.

            The cost of leaving familiar byways and sights and smells and fruits and vegetables.

            The cost of becoming uprooted and having to start over in a strange new place.

            There’s always a cost, right?

            And, that’s true for our Christian faith, too.

            It’s true that God’s grace is freely given to us.

            There’s nothing we have ever done - or could ever do - to deserve or to somehow buy God’s grace.

            It’s a gift.

            But, there is still a cost.

            The cost is our response to God’s gift.

            The cost is responding to God’s gift by not living like everybody else.

            We hear loud and clear about the cost of following Jesus in today’s gospel lesson where Jesus uses some pretty shocking language to make it clear that we are to put following him first and foremost, above every possession, above every other obligation and responsibility, above even our own families.

            That’s the cost.

            I’m surprised no one’s gotten up and walked out!

            Frankly, I’m surprised that Christianity ever got off the ground!

            Because it’s a high cost and, if we’re honest with ourselves and with each other, we have to admit that it’s a high cost that, almost always, or just always, unable and/or unwilling to pay.

            I don’t know if this is a consolation or not, but from the very beginning people have found it a high cost and for every story of a brave and bold Christian who gave it all away for Christ, there are many, many more people just like us, people who muddle their way through, who fall far short, who count on God’s mercy, which, fortunately, is always a good bet!

            Which brings us to today’s second lesson, the Letter of St. Paul to Philemon.

            This is a fascinating text.

 We get a glimpse of Paul conducting some business. It’s a personal  - but not quite private – letter that miraculously was saved and ended up in the New Testament.

            And, it gives us a glimpse of the high cost of following Jesus.

            Paul is writing to a man named Philemon and he’s writing about one of Philemon’s slaves, one named Onesimus – a word which means “useful.”

            Now, before I continue, I want to mention that unlike the way slavery (or even sharecropping) was practiced in our country, slavery in the ancient world was not generally a dehumanizing institution. Slaves were very much still seen as people and some even rose to prominent positions. Slaves were not necessarily slaves forever. But, having said that, it was still better to be free than to be a slave.

            So, as we read Paul’s letter – and, of course, and unfortunately, we only have one side of this correspondence – we learn that Philemon’s slave Onesimus has been serving Paul while he has been in prison.

            Notice Paul’s play on the name Onesimus: “Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me.”

            We’re not told how or why Onesimus ended up serving Paul.

            Maybe Philemon had loaned out his slave – or, maybe, Onesimus had run away and gone to Paul for safe harbor.

            We just don’t know it all went down, but the slave Onesimus has been with Paul where he has become a Christian.

And now Paul is writing to Philemon with a big ask.

            But, because Paul is being so indirect we don’t know exactly what he’s asking.

            It could be Paul is asking Philemon to let Onesimus stay with him indefinitely.

            It could be that Paul is asking Philemon to forgive Onesimus whatever he’s done and welcome him back.

            Or, it could be that Paul is asking Philemon to free Onesimus – to welcome him back not as a slave but as a beloved brother, beloved brother in Christ.

            So, we don’t know exactly but we know it’s a big ask because Paul lays it on pretty thick. Listen to this again:

            “…though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love –and I, Paul, do this as an old man, and now also as a prisoner of Christ Jesus.”

            And:

            “So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, charge that to my account.”

            And, finally:

            “Confident of your obedience, I am writing to you, knowing that you will do even more than I say.”

            And, that’s it.

            We don’t know how Philemon responds.

            But, we do know that Philemon faced the high cost of following Christ.

            Out in the world, there is little or no mercy, hardly any forgiveness, and a strong desire to maintain order and discipline, to keep people in their place.

            In the world, what’s mine is mine and I shouldn’t be asked to give it away.

            But, if we’re going to follow Christ then we’ll have to take up our cross and live a way very different from the way of the world.

            That is the cost.

            Amen.

            But, don’t you really want to know what Philemon chose to do?

            Well, there are two tantalizing clues.

            In the Letter to the Colossians, a Christian named… Onesimus is mentioned in passing. We’re told he’s on his way to Colossae.

            And there’s also a very old tradition that Onesimus was not only freed by Philemon, but went on to become a bishop in the city of Ephesus and later gave his life for the faith.

            Do we know for sure that this is the same person?

            No, we don’t.

            But, since Paul’s little letter was saved and survived, I like to think that, yes, at least in this case, Philemon was willing to pay the high cost of following Christ.

            May the same be true for you and me.

            And, so, for real this time: Amen!