Ah, families! Aren’t they grand? If you’re a priest, therapist, doctor, anybody’s friend, or, in fact if you’re even from a family (as opposed to having grown up alone in the woods), you’ve probably figured out two things: first, family is irrationally important, and second, being from a family is a tricky business.

It’s a tricky business because families, for the most part, are so screwed up. How? Well, lets see. There’s divorce; children used as pawns; parents who live vicariously through their children; families run by the children; secrets; inheritances used as weapons; family members who have not spoken in years (or decades); fighting over estates; arguments over child-rearing; more secrets; “Mom liked you best;” families in which nothing unpleasant is ever discussed; families in which nothing pleasant is ever discussed; money used as a tool for control; families in which children are not safe; families in which adults are not safe; families in which no one is safe; marriages in which one or both partners seethe in anger; “Stay away from daddy (or mommy) when they’ve been drinking;” even more secrets; children who are pressed into the role of peacemaker, or confident, or clown; and, finally, families that are sure they have no issues, which is a symptom of collective blindness.

Listen, if you have ever found that living in a family is a tricky business, you are not alone. You are human.

Politicians have talked a lot about “family values” for the last ten years or so. Let me tell you what the Bible has to say about “family values.” The truth is, other than, “Honor your father and mother” (which meant, “Care for them in their old age”), the Bible has very little to say about family values, and the stories we have of families in the Bible shows them to be about as screwed up as one can imagine.

We have one such story this morning, and the level of dysfunction is quite typical of family stories in the Bible. Sarah, Abraham’s wife, was unable to have children, so, following the custom of the day, she gave him her servant Hagar as a surrogate. (Notice that Hagar does not get a vote and is utterly powerless.) Eventually, Hagar got pregnant and gave birth to a little boy named Ishmael, who, according to the custom of the time, will inherit from Abraham.

But, as we heard last week, God throws a wrench in this arrangement by promising Sarah that she will conceive in her old age. She laughed out loud (and then denied it), but sure enough, she gives birth to Isaac (whose name means “laughter”).

Now the stage is set for some good ol’ family values. Sarah sees Ishmael playing with Isaac, and she becomes concerned that when Abraham dies, there will be a will contest, or some court will rule that the boys have to share the estate, or that Ishmael might kill Isaac so Ishmael will be the sole heir. Who knows? But she says to her husband, “Cast Hagar and Ishmael out.” This means, “Let them die in the desert.”

I have known families in which that has been said: “Cast them out. Let them die in the desert.” I’m telling you, this being in a family is not just a tricky business; sometimes it’s a dangerous business.

Hagar and Ishmael escape. God saves them. But can you imagine Ishmael years later on Father’s Day when someone says, “So, tell me about our dad.” I would imagine he would use words like “abandoned” and “betrayed,” and he might mention “attempted murder.” And it would mean a lot more to him than if he were talking about what a stranger had done. It would be a heartbreaking story of who he is. Because this wasn’t a stranger; this was his father, and family sure means a lot, doesn’t it?

The first thing I said was that you’ve probably figured out that family is irrationally important to us. I don’t know why exactly, but it sure is. I’ve dealt with people who had a relationship with a parent that was very strained, or uncaring, or abusive, or just practically non-existent, and the child spends his or her life trying to make it right. You just want to cry out, “Just forget it! It ain’t a-gonna happen! Why would you try for so long and so hard and suffer so much to try to make this relationship something it will never, ever be? It doesn’t make any sense. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

The answer, of course, is that when it comes to family, we don’t make sense; we’re not rational, and people will sometimes ruin their lives seeking the love of a long-dead parent who was uncaring, or unable, or just oblivious. Family touches as close to us as anything touches — as close to our wonderfulness, as close to our craziness.

And Jesus knows that. He’s telling his disciples about the dangers and costs of discipleship, and he says, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Now this is a Semitic way of talking that reverses purpose and effect. In the idiom of his day, Jesus doesn’t really mean that he wants to bring a sword. He’s saying that if his disciples are faithful to him, they will face swords. And the acid test is that the swords will be in the hands of their own families. So he paraphrases the prophet Micah, saying that faith in him will cause conflict between father and son, mother and daughter, and “one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.”

“You must love me more than you love family,” Jesus says. I never hear the politicians talk about that part.

What about your family keeps you from fully loving Jesus? What about your family keeps you from fully following Jesus? Sometimes the irony is that it is hardest for us to show Christian love to the people we’re closest to. Sometimes it’s hardest to be patient in the family. Sometimes it’s hardest to be accepting in the family. Sometimes it’s hardest to be forgiving in the family. Sometimes it’s hardest to tell the truth in the family. Sometimes it’s hardest to love yourself as a child of God — in the family.

There are many places in the world where being a Christian will cause severe strife in a family of Muslims or Hindus or Buddhists. That’s not likely to be the case for you and me. But still Jesus asks us: “Is there anything, or any one, in your family that you love more than me?” That’s hard for all of us, isn’t it? For some of us, the question might be: “Could it be the dysfunction that you love more than me? Sounds odd, but lots of people love the dysfunction; it gives their life meaning and purpose. For them, the question is, “Could it be time to let it go so you can use the hand that has been holding onto that issue to reach for Jesus?”

If you think Jesus sounds politically incorrect about all this family business, you’re right. It’s very tempting to do what a lot of churches do when Jesus says things this challenging and unpopular — just ignore it. But the truth is that Jesus not only wasn’t very into giving lots of advice about “family values,” he also clearly recognized families as a serious potential obstacle to faith in him. He saw how insular families can be, how self-absorbed, how divisive clan and kin and bloodlines can be. He saw how family can so easily set up “us” and “them” scenarios, and he is clear that devotion to him must always be paramount.

The politically incorrect truth is that Jesus was not a promoter of “family values” the way that term is usually used.

But, hear me now. Jesus was not unconcerned with morality and responsibility and family. It’s just that his vision was so much larger than the nuclear family, the extended family, the clan, the tribe, the nation, all the ways we so often use a sense of “family” to identify “us” and, of course, “them.” He saw all those divisions, all those walls, as dangerous, as calling us to love the walls more than we love him.

On this Refugee Sunday, let’s remember the family Jesus was interested in. Concern for it, it seems to me, takes care of all the other family units Jesus was politically incorrect enough to be wary of.

Let us pray:

O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP, p. 815, #3)