(Don’t) Hang on to Your Hat

Jon U
Misfit Minister
Published in
5 min readSep 9, 2019

Today will be addressing two things: a bad translation and a look at greed. The passage is Luke 14:25–33.

10 years ago I lived in Texas. While I was there I worked in a hat shop. Yes, we carried cowboy hats, but we carried pretty much anything other than baseball caps. I love hats, especially western styles, and found a hell of a deal on a XXXX John B Stetson, the household name of western hats. I LOVED this hat. Well, one cold day when jockying my car in order to avoid a ticket, I was walking down the sidewalk when a man that appeared to be homeless said: “that hat looks really warm. Can I have it on this cold day?.” I responded as any Christian should by saying, “it really isn’t that warm,” and walked on. Pardon my sarcasm, as this is NOT how a Christian should respond.

Me and my hat

I failed on that day. I shortly after felt bad, went to a thrift shop, found a warm hat, but I could not find the man. While this attempt may have actually done him better than my Stetson, that was still not the point. I valued my hat more than this human being. Even finding a different hat to give away, I was still making an idol out of my hat. I was NOT willing to give it up.

So how does this relate to the passage? Well, let’s dive in. First, this passage says something odd: “Whoever comes to me and doesn’t hate father and mother, spouse and children, and brothers and sisters — yes, even one’s own life — cannot be my disciple.” This is a passage that sounds obscure, and language comes into play. The scriptures were written in Hebrew (OT) and Greek (NT). To give a little context, this was in a period in Jesus’ ministry when he was traveling, teaching, and occasionally performing miracles. There is a constant tension between him and religious leaders. It is common in religion to begin to self justify. ‘Look how awesome I am and how good I am doing. I am not like those heathens.’ This happens when we isolate ourselves from people outside our church. It is natural, and one of the reasons we need rebuke from Jesus. It is a reason we need to get out of our own bubbles and listen to people.

For example, it is easy from the comfort of one’s own church community to look outward and judge. Think of a small church where everyone is married and look out on the gay community in disgust. It becomes different when LGBTQ people are in your inner circle and you hear their struggles, their stories, their search for acceptance. Such interactions lower our pride and help us find common bonds between people that seem “different.” To us, we are normal and the other is the sinner.

Jesus, having interacted with religious people that get caught up in their piety bubble, is letting the people following him know that following him will not be easy. You don’t just get his stamp in your piety passport and then live as you have been. He’s saying we have to be humble, we have to be accepting, we have to make changes, and we will have to give things up, even things like our favorite Stetson hat.

Whoever comes to me and doesn’t hate father and mother, spouse and children, and brothers and sisters — yes, even one’s own life — cannot be my disciple.

Perhaps this is one of the weirdest teachings in scripture. That’s because of language and that translation from an ancient language to a modern one is not easy. Ancient Greek is not the same as modern Greek, let alone English. My Greek instructor said that knowledge of biblical Greek might help you order in a restaurant, but that is about it. So I looked up the word translated to “hate.” The Greek word here is μισέω (miseo), which sometimes translates to hate, but specifically, to detest on a comparative basis. To form a moral equivalent. Elevating one value over another. Based on the rest of scripture, I cannot imagine Jesus asking us to hate people close to us. I do not understand why bible scholars would even translate it in such a way.

The Message translation reads: “Anyone who comes to me but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters — yes, even one’s own self! — can’t be my disciple.”

This makes far more sense. Jesus says that he has to be number one, and at times we might be put to the test by those closest to us, and we must choose him. I didn’t choose him over my hat, and my hat was something simple, a possession, not even a family member, partner, or best friend. I did not put him first, I put me first. Elsewhere in scripture, as we read a few weeks ago, Jesus said that following him will bring division, even within the family. This does not mean we go and intentionally divide, or that we go, sorry mom and dad, sorry son, you're out! It means that sometimes even good people can stand in the way of great things. Sometimes a hat can. Sometimes our choices are hard.

The text states to really examine how difficult following Jesus will be. I’ve seen personal friends jump on the Jesus train, loud and proud. They got involved in political movements based on it. They isolated themselves into Jesus enclaves, only later to say, “not for me.” In more than one instance, it resulted in a divorce. People I know had their spouses renounce Jesus and their marriages. Following Jesus is difficult. Getting caught up in the idea before really committing can devastate lives. Jesus is literally warning us about this.

Are we willing to give up our comforts? Our people? Our possessions? Is it saying we have to be poor? I don’t think so. Hell, I’ve seen the poorest of the poor fighting over possessions too. I’ve also seen some incredible generosity from such people. In the text from last week, when Jesus spoke of Jubilee, it was mentioned in an interpretation of Leviticus that God is the landlord of all property and we are merely tenants. What if I viewed God as the owner of my hat and I simply as a borrower, rather than still holding onto it today? I do not think we all HAVE to give up everything and be empty-handed but are we willing? Because I believe God is asking for our willingness, and may even test us, just as God did with my hat. And as I did, we will often fail.

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