For a moment, call to mind Psalm 23. The Lord is my shepherd. Green pastures. Still waters. A cup overflowing. Oh, yes! There is a serene side of being a Christian.

But this Gospel reading in Luke crashes in on our spiritual serenity. The spell of a peaceful religion is shattered. We become startled as we hear Jesus speak these uprooting words. Some believers have admitted to being shocked and puzzled by what Jesus says here. How about you? How do these words strike you? If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.

These words bring us forthrightly to what we might call the crux of being a Christian. You have heard of the word "crux." In English we commonly use it in the little phrase, "the crux of the matter." By that phrase we usually are referring to the heart of the matter, to the thing that brings us to the distinguishing feature about something, to that which reveals the core of the matter. It is interesting and telling that this word "crux" is letter for letter the same word as the Latin word crux. In Latin the word means "cross."

So, when we talk about the crux of being a Christian, we're not only talking about the heart of the matter, but, by using the word "crux" we are automatically saying that this heart of the matter of being a Christian involves something of the cross, something of feeling crucified, something that strongly suggests a painful side. This is not to say that all of Christianity is painful, but it is to say that the distinguishing feature of being a Christian will involve a painful side, for surely the crux -- the cross -- involves sacrifice, pain, and even death.

So what is this painful thing, this crux about which Jesus speaks here? What is it for which Jesus shockingly announces we should be willing to hate father and mother, spouse, children, and all the rest of the family? What is it for which we must be willing to give up everything? What is the thing about which, as Jesus puts it, we should "count the cost"?

At first we are probably tempted to think that it is something like "our salvation" or "our faith in Christ." But, you see, upon closer analysis we would have to admit that everything concerning our salvation and our faith involves no cost, no pain, no crux whatsoever on our part. Good Christian doctrine teaches us that Christ bore all the pain, all the cost, all the cross. Christ alone saves us, Christians preach, and even our faith in him is totally God's gift to us.

So we are still left with the question about what the crux of being a Christian is. Throughout this reading, however, Jesus never tells us specifically what the crux is. But I believe that today's second Bible reading does reveal this crux of the matter to us. That's probably exactly why this reading is coupled with today's Gospel reading, so let's look at that second reading now.

It's an unusual reading because, you see, the book of Philemon consists of only one chapter, so that the reading consists of this entire chapter, save the last two verses. In the touching story it tells, we have a wonderful illustration about what the crux of being a Christian is.

What is that story? Briefly, it involves three characters: the apostle Paul, his friend named Philemon, and a servant who worked in Philemon's house with the interesting name, Onesimus.

Now this servant Onesimus was really less than a servant; he was a slave in Philemon's household. Despite the fact that Philemon was a Christian, he continued the Roman practice of having slaves in his household. Throughout the Roman empire there were millions of such slaves. They were totally at their masters' mercy.

It seems that Onesimus was accused of stealing something valuable from Philemon's house. Fearing the consequences, Onesimus ran away. Lo and behold, he ends up in the great city of Rome; somehow he became acquainted there with the apostle Paul, who was serving a sentence in the Roman prison. Being the missionary he was, Paul converted Onesimus to the Christian faith. But Paul realized that he couldn't keep Onesimus under his wing indefinitely. So he convinces Onesimus that the wisest course for him would be to return to his former master, Philemon. But to soften the blow, Paul writes a letter to Philemon, exhorting him to receive his runaway slave, Onesimus, with forgiveness and love. After all, Paul reminds him, Onesimus is now a Christian and should be viewed by Philemon as a new brother in the faith. Paul puts punch behind his request by offering to replace anything Onesimus might have stolen. How could Philemon refuse to receive lovingly his former slave after an appeal like that from none other than the apostle Paul? We assume that Onesimus returned to Philemon and in some respect lived happily ever after. So far the story.

This story, I submit, reveals to us what is the crux of being a Christian. It all has to do with what Philemon here finally determined to do: to reach out a hand of acceptance and forgiveness to someone who had sinned against him, even when, technically speaking (that is, in the eyes of others), he wouldn't have to. This was a painful decision, a decision involving something of the cross, no doubt, since, in his heart, Philemon was probably crying out to Onesimus, "I'll get you for this!" Here is the Christian call of accepting other persons, not because they deserve it, but because we realize Christ died on the cross for them, too. It's the ultimate call of swallowing our own pride. We all know how painful that can be. The story of Philemon is reminiscent of the words of Jesus: "Love your enemies ... turn the other cheek ... if your brother offends you, go to him and work it out." To carry out these words means pain for most of us.

So it is that Jesus warns in the Gospel reading, "... sit down and count the cost...." Yes, this kind of discipleship may indeed involve renouncing everything: your very self. Jesus, of course, is himself the perfect example of the very thing he calls us to do. Look at his crux, that is, the climactic moment when he hung upon the cross. He was suffering in physical pain there, yes. But the greater pain may have been mustering the last ounce of love whereby he was able to bless his executioners and say, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing."

This reminds me of a similar story, Christ-like in nature, that transpired in the Chicago area a few years back. At that time a young man had publicly accused Cardinal Bernardin of the Chicago archdiocese of misconduct in office. The charges were ravaging and destructive. As it turned out, the tables were turned; the young man withdrew his charges, admitting they were totally false. Several months later the young man was on his own deathbed, dying from a fatal illness. It must have been with some considerable pain that Cardinal Bernardin then went to this young man and blessed him, wishing him the eternal peace of Christ. There is a high cost to such faithful discipleship. Can we call it "the pain of forgiving"?

Lest we too quickly agree with all of this, let us remind ourselves that our capacity for holding grudges and nursing personal hatreds is an awesome force to overcome. We are all sinners, and that means we are held in the clutches of sin. Much of our sin takes place within the setting of human relationships. In our dealings with other people we find it difficult to practice understanding and love and forgiveness. The devil pushes us toward estrangement and brokenness and icy silence; he champions the loss of eye contact between people who ought to be looking one another straight in the eye. Satan convinces us never to suffer the painful humiliation of giving in; he always presses us toward maintaining our own selfish stance. "Rights rather than relationships" is the devil's theme. Environmentally and socially speaking, our world stands at the precipice of destruction because some people stubbornly insist upon their rights, not caring what is destroyed in the process.

In contrast, the mind of Philemon is to suppress, painfully, if need be, any rightful behavior and to surprise others with the hand of fellowship. But again, don't always expect others to encourage such a stance. Do you remember the time when Jesus was talking with his disciples about going to Jerusalem to suffer and be killed, and on the third day be raised? Peter grabbed Jesus, took him aside and rebuked him, we are told, saying, "God forbid, Lord! This shall never happen to you." But then Jesus turned to Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me; for you are not on the side of God, but of men" (Matthew 16:21-23). Those who choose the path of redemptive suffering can expect criticism from even their closest friends. It is evident that the friendship between Peter and Jesus was strained at that moment. Sometimes loyalty to God must transcend maintaining smooth human relationships.

It is in this light that we can now perhaps understand what Jesus was saying in the opening verses of this Gospel reading. Remember the shocking words: "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, even his own life, he cannot be my disciple." Understandably it can be those who love us most -- father and mother, and all the rest of the family -- who jump when our "rights" are threatened, or when injustice is threatening our well-being, and stick up for us. Like Jesus did to Peter, we might at that point have to turn our backs on the people who love us most and whom we love most, for the sake of being faithful to God's mission. While our parents are shouting, "No one's gonna push my kid around!" we may have to follow through and demonstrate a higher wisdom and a more profound love -- an undeserved love, a grace so unexpected that it is amazing, indeed. This is what Jesus did when he died on the cross.

Because Jesus did that for us, we will live in forgiveness with all other people, even though they may not deserve it, and even when, in the eyes of most others, we could rightfully withhold forgiveness. This is the crux of being a Christian. God help you carry such a cross! "