Ordinary 12 Year A
Sunday 21 June 2026 | Geremy Hema
Sermon Based on:
Romans 6:1b-11,
Matthew 10:24-39
In a time of failed ceasefires and broken promises, whisper your peace into our ears oh Lord, that our hearts might hear it, our eyes witness it, our mouths proclaim it, and with our bodies, may we commit to your enduring purpose of peace and compassion. I runga i te ingoa o te Matua, te Tama, me te Wairua Tapu. Amine.
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In today’s gospel we encounter Jesus at the point where his movement is gaining moment and followers. We might even say that it is the midway point of his ministry.
And interested people are becoming disciples.
Which is possibly why at this point we hear him to start to articulate with a little more force and clarity what it means to be one of his followers.
And perhaps the most forceful part of this articulation is that where he warns that:
“being one of his disciples is going to come at a cost.”
Not the efpost machine at the door kind of cost, but a deep, and personal cost.
The type of cost which may leave followers emotionally injured.
Their integrity, or even sanity questioned.
The name calling and ridicule has already started. And in this passage Jesus makes it clear that those followers who wish to associate, and align themselves with him, will be mocked, ridiculed, and maligned with him by the authorities of the time.
And to any fear they may of this, he offers some comfort: “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul, for God numbers even the hairs of your head and cares for you even more than he cares for the sparrows of the air.”
For many, that may provide little comfort. But having heard the readings from Romans earlier this morning, this reassurance provides a nice alignment to the idea of the actively living out the new spiritual reality that Christ provides in the Gospel of today.
This portion of Romans reminds a lot of Galatians 2:20, one of my own personal favourites.
“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
They both kind of set up something of a theological concept of dying to sin and living a new life in Christ. Together, they propose that a believer’s old, sinful self spiritually died when Christ was crucified, and their new daily life is sustained entirely by faith in His resurrection
And as there would have been fear and anxiety among the early disciples, so too do we feel that fear in modern times as followers of Christ, as those who have signed up to the new spiritual reality Paul talks about earlier.
How often have we heard friends talk about the adverse experiences they have had, and the change in attitude towards them among family and friends when they started exploring faith, or have even maybe left one branch of Chruch for another?
The portion of today’s Gospel that he is bringing not peace, but a sword, often leaves people a little perplexed. In conflicts with the warm fuzzy friendly version of Jesus many prefer.
Here, he’s not wagging a finger and offering a dictatorial set of rules and saying how things should be done. We know, follow, and love the Jesus that we know as a man of compassion, not violence. He is really just being honest as he describes what is going to happen as a result of presence in the world.
And basically saying look e hoa mā-my friends, I can’t promise you and easy ride. This isn’t for the faint hearted. This won’t be a weekend gig. It won’t be easy and convenient. And will likely absorb every aspect of your being. Impacting everything. Perhaps even your personal relationships.
And throughout the ages, and in the living memory of many of us, we have witnessed the extreme, and less extreme costs of following Jesus. And in so doing, the cost of doing good and compassionate works within our communities and in society.
The 20th century martyrs depicted so sorrowfully visible on The West front of Westminster Abbey remind us of this cost. Maximilian Kolbe, Martin Luther King Jr., Óscar Romero, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Lucian Tapiedi, one of the Martyrs of New Guinea, remind us that for many, the cost was life itself!
Those dying almost daily, and in almost every part of the world where there is conflict, and where their faith and good deeds are either deliberately punished with suffering and death, or where they’ve been caught up in unfortunate crossfire.
In Bonhoeffer’s book The Cost of Discipleship (a book I suspect some of us might have read in our little corner of the Church), attempted a definition for all who describe themselves as people of faith.
He was a complicated character as we know. And it is a challenging book, but an impactful one. One which has influenced the minds and hearts of many. Bonhoeffer is angered by those who claim to be people of faith. But then take an easy route, avoiding the suffering of others, evening seeking self-enrichment through their faith. And he famously writes in that book, in a moment of poignant and impactful forewarning, “When Christ calls a person, he bids them come and die.”
And in our local community we witness the less extreme versions of the great cost of following Christ.
The embarrassment, and sorrow we experience when we hear fellow Christians condemn peoples of other faiths, and even other forms of Christian identity.
The recent calls from some local fundamentalist Christian leaders for the purging and expulsion of New Zealanders who belong to other faiths such as Islam and the Shik community.
LGBTI and Takatapui Christians who are rejected by some Christian churches.
The defunding and severely cut funding of beloved institutions like the City Mission, and other centres of care, kindess and rehabilitation.
And just yesterday, it was disappointing to read that a recent proposal by one of our North Shore Anglican communities to establish a low-cost cafe to feed those experiencing hardship, was shunned by some locals because of the type of people it might bring into to the particular area they are hoping to set up shop in.
While we ponder today the cost of taking up the Cross, we remind ourselves of the beauty which that experience affords us.
The opportunity to examine and re-examine the impact of that on our lives. The possibility for that to reorientate our focus regularly, and balance that with the needs of those around us, the readings we encounter each week, and the interactions we have with those in our church communities, and some of the study and discussion groups we belong to.
As we go about our lives with family and work, we may ponder the way we weave our understanding of the readings like today into those aspects of our lives.
Not in ways the alienate and upset others, but in ways that exhibit a Christlike goodness and compassion.
And living our readings like today’s isn’t easy. Traffic, the cost of living, paying the bills, family commitments, sometimes leave very little time, energy or resources to make such a lofty commitment.
But I think the commitment to kindness Christ requires of us, does give us a focus, an achievable Apostolate to live out among those around us. Something to build a life around.
Having weighed these costs, it is fair to ask, am I up to all of that? Do I have enough spiritual gas in the tank?
Is it worth it? If following Jesus means bearing all manner of uncomfortable things, of changing, of dying, why would we want to do it?
When I was at boarding school, the portion from Matthew:
“For I have come to turn
a man against his father,
a daughter against her mother,
a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.
A man’s enemies will be the members of his own household.” would always turn a few heads. It was thankfully dealt with delicately in a church full of mostly impressionable teenagers. And of course it comes out of a time with its own context.
Specifically, 1st-century Jewish family life where specific relationship dynamics were at play. Particularly between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.
Families of course didn’t live as independent nuclear units. Instead, they operated under locational conditions, and patriarchal structures. Which created unique domestic hierarchies and tensions.
So, for some of us, coming from cultures where your parents were the principal authorities, or the big bosses in your families, Jesus’ words here often resulted in some confusion, smirks ,or even delusions of newfound liberation among some students.
I recall one of our chaplains providing a gentle flipping and love imbued converse of this passage where there would be no need for any kind of turning against each other where there is the presence of Christ in a home, and a true commitment to domestic harmony and love for one another.
In my own family, nightly prayer wasn’t always possible. But when it did occur, it was the perfect departure from the squabbles, the noisiness, the homework, and sports practice and general messiness of life. And when it came to our faith, it was always something that just seemed to settle us and bring us together. And I know that isn’t always possible in every whānau setting.
When we do commit to following Jesus, we are not just trying to live like him. But live in him.
Over time, he offers us the possibility to become like him. And to become more like him is to see and sense more of who God is.
And when we come as we have today, to celebrate and show kindness to one another as a faith community. We get a sense of God’s bringing us together.
To cherish our friendships, shared faith and joy. And strengthen the ability and courage we have to face the strains of the world together.
Naturally resulting in a pouring forth from us more good things such as mercy, compassion, clarity, and love.
A resolve to commitment to something good throughout the week, or a task or project ongoing with our lives.
When I was in Religious Ed classes at boarding school, I really wish I’d paid more attention when we read parts of Bonhoeffer’s The Cost of Discipleship. I only came to re-appreciate his life and work after following some of the scholarship of our friend and colleague Michale Maweson.
Bonhoeffer thoughts and writings on discipleship being worth it despite the costs and challenges. Becoming a reflection of Christ as we share his pain, loneliness, and bear his cross.
And through this fellowship and communion with our friend Jesus, the incarnate Lord, the recovery of our true humanity, a deliverance from individualism, and a retrieval of our solidarity with the whole human race.
I’m compelled to believe that the cost is worth it.
I runga i te ingoa o te Matua, o te Tama, o te Wairua Tapu. Amine.