It’s a bit jaundiced but probably true, what Mark Twain said.

He said that no matter what anyone says, everyone’s “private motto” is this: “It’s better to be popular than right.”^[1] True in politics, in business, in school, among friends, and even in the Church—popular cowardice over singular courage—as I said, it’s bit jaundiced to say so, but it’s probably true.

Reflecting upon the Church’s response to the rise of Nazi power in the early 1930s—and upon his own experience as boy in Germany at that time—Pope Benedict said that although “[t]here were of course a good number of Christians…who opposed the demonic forces with the power of their Christian conscience;” nonetheless, “on the whole the power of temptation was stronger; those who just went along with things left a clear path for evil.”^[2] Absurd and “insane” regard for the institution over truth, for security over sacrifice—cowardice over courage—it was an experience that marked him the rest of his life, giving him ever a “certain reserve with regard to the reigning ideologies.”^[3]

A tale as old as the Church herself, in that ancient age of persecutions there were as many who failed in the faith as succeeded. As that old African bishop Cyprian (a martyr himself) said, “Many were defeated before the battle was joined.”^[4] In France, in the second century, there were Christians who just couldn’t find the strength ever to make a stand for Jesus—repeated deniers of the faith when it counted, when under pressure. “[T]hese were the sons of perdition,” the story goes, mere surface-believers “who had never enjoyed even a vestige of faith nor any knowledge…nor any thought of the fear of God.”^[5] Cowardice over courage: a constant temptation, a constant weakness, the sad enduring measure of the man, of the character of the person.

Now what I am not doing here is offering up some shallow ode to rugged individualism—I’m not praising that myth—that false idea you should always just strive to be yourself or follow your heart—that mythology which sells, which makes all of you proud individuals that look and think exactly alike. Nor am I offering up the solace of the victim, the comforts of the ghetto, the fodder of culture wars, the false dichotomy of “us” against “them.” Warning you of the cowardice which can ruin Christians, I am not preaching self-righteousness and pride, that sort of conservative or progressive bitterness in which there is no hope nor love.

Rather, what I want to talk about is the courage that is Christian, born of Jesus Christ. It’s not courage born of human strength or ideology, but of the grace of God born in disciples of Jesus, in those who love and follow and live in him. That’s the invitation: Jesus, having spoken of the narrow door and of the banquet of the kingdom of God, open only to those who’ve given up on worldly value and status, now turns to the crowd standing by (would-be disciples), and he says that if they don’t hate those closest to them—fathers, mothers, wives and children—then they simply cannot be disciples.^[6]

Now, that’s a strange thing to say. It’s a radical demand, an ancient demand of faith, like God calling Abraham to sacrifice his son.^[7] Which is the authority Jesus is claiming here. Here Jesus makes demands only God can make; he’s saying that love for him and obedience to him comes before and after any other love and any other obedience—all loves and every claim. What he’s saying is that between the Christian and the world, between the Christian and every other human being that Christian knows, stands always Jesus Christ—his word, his truth, his ethics, his grace. And so at every moment, every ethical moment great as well as small, the Christian must be ready to make a decision—for the world or for Christ. “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”^[8] That’s what Christian courage is—always choosing Christ and his truth because you’ve chosen him and love him, and he you.

Which is why Jesus said in substance, “Think about it.” Don’t follow if you’re not ready, if you’re just going to flake out as soon as it gets awkward, difficult, or embarrassing. Jesus, if you don’t know, died a shameful death, naked and surrounded by scorn. And he said very clearly, “The world will hate you, just like it hated me.”^[9] That’s why you must at some point make a choice either for or against Jesus Christ; I must either remain my old self and see where that leads me or change, become a new person, and dream of eternal life. It was the great Bonhoeffer who said, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” That’s simply true, for all believers. “We cannot follow Christ unless we are prepared to accept and affirm that breach,” prepared to separate ourselves from the world’s worldliness, embrace that different life, that different ethics, that different hope which is Christian—which will indeed bring you to your own calvary, your own worldly shame and scorn, your own death.^[10] Again, which is why Jesus says, “Think about it.” Do you really want to be a Christian? Are you sure?

Now, if you want resurrection, you must want this. Such is the desire you must stir up in your heart. To be worth anything as a human being, you must have courage. To be worth anything as a Christian, you must have that courage born of Jesus Christ—that willingness to follow him in all things, that willingness to be what Dr. King called a “transformed nonconformist.”^[11] You must be willing to look at everything and everybody through the truth of Jesus Christ—even when it costs you dearly, because it cost him dearly, and because you love him, or at least you say you do: a love, however, that remains simply unproven until that moment when you have to put your money where your mouth is.

And so, the questions for us are these: Where are you? Where am I? Are you merely a sentimental Christian or a genuine disciple? What will you do when it’ll cost a lot more than it does now to be a Christian? What is your willingness to suffer for the name of Christ? What’s your willingness to renounce what is dearest to you for him?

These questions are becoming relevant again. And you can’t answer them with anything you say, only with what you do. And God sees it, all of it. Amen.

[1] The Wit and Wisdom of Mark Twain, 180

[2] Joseph Ratzinger (Benedict XVI), Truth and Tolerance, 40

[3] Joseph Ratzinger (Benedict XVI), Milestones, 15; Pope Benedict XVI, Interview with Robert Moynihan, Inside the Vatican, 41 (May 2005)

[4] Cyprian of Carthage, Letter 11.1.2

[5] The Martyr Acts of Lyons and Vienne 1.48

[6] Luke 13:13:24, 14:15-26

[7] Genesis 22:1-19

[8] John 14:15

[9] John 14:18-25 paraphrase

[10] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, 99, 106

[11] Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength to Love, 21

© 2022 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield