Jesus: Hate your Parents, Spouse, and Children

 

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