Homily on Luke 14:25–33
Today’s Gospel is one of those passages that can almost take
our breath away.
Jesus says: “If anyone comes to me without hating his
father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own
life, he cannot be my disciple.
Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot
be my disciple.”
At first hearing, these words sound harsh—even shocking.
Isn’t Jesus the one who taught us to love?
Isn’t He the one who calls us to honor our father and mother,
to cherish our families, to lay down our lives for our friends?
Why then does He speak here about hating father,
mother, wife, children, and even our own lives?
We must understand what Jesus is doing.
He is not commanding us to despise our loved ones.
He is using the strong language of the time to shake us
awake—to make us realize that discipleship is not a hobby, not something we fit
in when it’s convenient.
It is an all-consuming love, a total surrender, a willingness
to place Him above every other love in our lives.
Think of it this way:
Jesus is saying, “I must come first.
If you want to follow me, I cannot be one option among many.
I must be your foundation, your compass, your everything.”
He gives us two examples:
the builder who starts a tower without counting the cost, and
the king who goes into battle without considering the strength of his opponent.
In other words, discipleship requires foresight, commitment,
and readiness.
Now, let’s pause here and ask ourselves honestly:
what does this mean for us, here and now, in our parish, in
our lives?
For many of us, faith can sometimes slip into the background.
We pray when we have time.
We come to Mass when it’s convenient.
We place Christ somewhere in the mix of our priorities—but
not always at the center.
Jesus, in this Gospel, is inviting us to something far
deeper, far greater.
He is inviting us to total discipleship.
That means we are willing to carry our crosses.
It means we put Him first, even when it costs us something.
And it always does cost us something.
- For
the young person, it may mean saying no to peer pressure and living
differently than the crowd.
- For
parents, it may mean putting faith into the center of family life—even
when it’s easier to skip prayer, or when sports and activities compete
with Sunday Mass.
- For
someone in the workplace, it may mean choosing honesty and integrity even
if it costs a promotion or prestige.
- For
all of us, it means being willing to forgive when it’s easier to hold a
grudge, to serve when it’s easier to be served, to give when it’s easier
to keep.
Carrying the cross isn’t about seeking suffering for its own
sake.
It’s about loving Jesus enough to choose Him above everything
else, even when it hurts, even when it costs.
I want to share a little story.
A few years ago, a woman in another parish told me about her
journey back to the Church.
For years she had lived her faith only half-heartedly.
She prayed sometimes, went to Mass occasionally, but her
career was her real priority.
Then, one day, she received difficult news:
her mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness.
Suddenly, all the things that had seemed so important—her
promotions, her salary, her recognition—felt empty.
In caring for her mother, she rediscovered prayer.
She began to rely on Christ again, to surrender to Him.
She told me: “It wasn’t easy.
I had to let go of control.
I had to carry the cross of watching my mother suffer.
But in that cross, I found peace, and I found Him again.”
That’s what Jesus means.
When we place Him first—even above family, above our own
lives—we don’t lose love, we don’t lose joy.
In fact, we discover them in their truest, deepest form.
St. John Paul II once said,
“The person who does not decide to love forever will find it
very difficult to really love for even one day.”
That’s what Jesus is calling us to:
not a passing feeling, but a forever decision to put Him at
the center.
And let’s be honest: this isn’t easy.
Sometimes discipleship feels overwhelming.
That’s why Jesus tells us to “count the cost.”
He wants us to know upfront: this is a demanding road.
But here’s the good news—He never asks us to walk it alone.
He doesn’t just say “carry your cross”; He says, “Come
after me.”
He is out in front.
He carried His cross first.
He walks with us, strengthens us, and promises us that beyond
the cross there is resurrection, beyond the sacrifice there is glory, beyond
the surrender there is eternal life.
So what do we take from this Gospel today?
Let me suggest three invitations:
First, let’s examine our priorities. Ask yourself: who or what comes
first in my life? Is Jesus truly at the center—or is He on the sidelines?
Second, let’s embrace the cross. What cross are you carrying right
now? Illness? Family struggles? Wounds from the past? Instead of running from
it, can we carry it with Him, and even offer it up as an act of love?
Third, let’s recommit to discipleship. That means making faith visible in
daily life: setting aside time for prayer, making Sunday Mass non-negotiable,
forgiving, serving, loving—even when it costs.
My friends, Jesus’ words may sound hard, but they are words
of freedom.
When we place Him first, everything else falls into its
proper place.
Our families, our work, our possessions—none of them are
diminished.
They are purified, strengthened, and transformed.
The saints understood this.
Think of St. Francis of Assisi, who gave up wealth and
comfort to follow Christ with total joy.
Think of St. Teresa of Calcutta, who embraced the poorest of
the poor because she saw Christ in them.
Think of ordinary men and women—even in our own parish—who
quietly, faithfully live their discipleship every day, putting Christ first.
Brothers and sisters, today Jesus looks at us with love, and
He says:
“Follow me. Put me first. Carry your cross. Trust me with
everything.”
The cost of discipleship is real.
But the reward is greater than we can imagine: eternal life
with Him, and even now, a peace the world cannot give.
So let’s not be afraid.
Let’s count the cost—and then say yes.
For in saying yes to Him, we say yes to life, yes to love,
yes to the Kingdom of God.
Amen
