October 16, 2016

Luke 18:1-8 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
18 Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. 2 He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. 3 In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’ 4 For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, 5 yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’” 6 And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. 7 And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? 8 I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

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An old spiritual reveals the very foundation of prayer:

It’s me, it’s me, O Lord, standing in the need of prayer.

It’s me, it’s me, O Lord, standing in the need of prayer.

Not my brother, not my sister, but it’s me O Lord, standing in the need of prayer.

We pray because we stand in need of prayer. It’s that simple; that basic. As Augustine puts it in theConfessions: “Man is one of your creatures, Lord, and his instinct is to praise you . . .. The thought of you stirs him so deeply that he cannot be content unless he praises you, because you made us for yourself and our hearts find no peace until they rest in you” [Confessions, Book 1.1, Pine-Coffin, p. 21].  We pray because it is in our bones. We also pray because we stand in need of help, help that only God can provide. Therefore, according to the lectionary reading from Luke 18, we should keep on praying and not lose heart, because God will respond.

 

When it comes to revealing the kingdom of God, something Jesus often does through the medium of parables, he often will compare and contrast human actions with divine actions.  For instance, in Luke 11, in a similar conversation about prayer, Jesus asks whether a human father would give his child a scorpion, if the child asked for an egg. The answer, of course, is no. No human father, at least a decent one, would give his child something dangerous rather than what was asked for. We who are parents want to give good gifts to our children.  Then Jesus declares: “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13).

In the parable of the widow and the unjust judge, as well as in other parables, Jesus wants to raise our awareness of the character of God. The only way he can do this is through comparison. Jesus assumes that if we are created in the image of God, then something about God is reflected in our being. But, God’s being is not perfectly reflected in humanity. That’s the point of Genesis 3 and the story of the fall. It’s why we are called to confess our sins before God, and even before that, Jesus suggests we should take care of any dysfunctions in our human relationships before we try bringing our gifts to the altar. This word of wisdom is not found in Luke; it’s present in Matthew’s “Sermon on the Mount.” There  Jesus declares: “So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift” (Mt. 5:23-24). As Richard Beck suggested in his sermon at the recent Streaming’s Conference, if we want to be like Jesus, then spiritual disciplines, as important as they might be, won’t get us there unless we first take care of things like our relationships with one another. Problems at the horizontal level can impede our conversations on a vertical level.

Recognizing our own distance from God’s goal for our lives, we return to the question of God’s character. If we take the position, as outlined by the prologue of John’s Gospel, that Jesus is the Word of God in the flesh (John 1:1-14), then Jesus reveals the character of God. Of course the record in the Gospels is complex. Jesus often says things that can make us uncomfortable, but both in his teaching and in his life he reveals to us something about God’s character. This parable is designed to reveal something about that character, especially when it comes to prayer.

In this parable a judge is petitioned by a widow seeking justice. The judge is not that interested in doing so. He has better things to do. After all, she is probably poor and has no influence in society. There are others whose influence puts them at the head of the line when it comes to the judge’s attention. Even in America, money can buy justice. Indeed, you can get away with murder if you suffer from “affluenza.” This is the human justice system at work, and too often those without means give up. But in this case, the widow refuses to give up. She wants justice, and she won’t let it go until the judge grants her the justice she seeks. In the end, the judge gives in. The judge decides that this woman whom we can imagine comes every morning to the court house and sits in the front row, and requests an audience, won’t go away until he addresses her concern. When he tires of her appearances, he gives in and gives her the hearing she desires, and thus justice is served. It’s not because of her wealth and influence, it’s because she refuses to give in until she is heard.

If an unjust judge will grant justice to a plaintiff due to persistence, then what about God? Will God delay in responding to our requests? Does God need reminding? That shouldn’t be the case if we are right in ascribing to God the virtues of justice and mercy? Won’t God respond favorably to those whom Luke calls God’s chosen ones, and by chosen ones I don’t mean the upper crust, the ones with the most power and influence.

In the context of the New Testament, the chosen ones are the people of God. While we might want to expand the definition of to whom God is listening, at least foundationally, we should affirm that Jesus has in mind the same ones Paul declares to be the “elect” (Rom. 8:33). I will leave it to the interpreter to decide how far to extend the definition of whose cries God hears, but it’s clear that God hears the cries of those who call out to God.

As for what God will do. God will act without delay in responding to the cries of those suffering injustice. It’s good to remember here that the situation for a widow in the first century was precarious. There was no social welfare net—no Social Security, no pension benefits, no Medicare or Medicaid. The only resource they had was a judge, someone who could advocate for them.  In this case the judge was not just or merciful. Indeed, the judge did not even fear God, and fearing God was central to life among the people of God, for fearing God was linked to keeping the commandments (Deut. 5:29).  Despite not responding out of a just heart, the judge does respond out of sheer exhaustion of having to face this widow everyday as she appears in his court to plead her case.  God, on the other hand, doesn’t need to be badgered. At least that seems to be the message of Jesus.

When we attend to parables like this it’s good to remember that in general the parables are vehicles by which the kingdom of God is being revealed.  In this case, a core value of the kingdom is justice and the God who metes it out.  And God both hears and responds with dispatch! The question posed to us is this: “Will the Son of Man find faith when he returns? As Arland Hultgren puts it:

The church is reminded by this parable and its application not only of the need to be persistent in prayer, but also to be accountable. The Son of man will come in judgment. The question of “faith on earth” will be paramount. Evidence for faith on earth will be a church that prays with persistence, even in the face of possible persecution. [Hultgren, The Parables of Jesus, p. 260].This is the eschatological question. Thus, prayer is not merely persistence in petition, it involves persistence in commitment.

 

 

Robert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

October 9, 2016

Luke 17:11-19 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

¹¹ On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. ¹² As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, ¹³ they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” ¹⁴ When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. ¹⁵ Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. ¹⁶ He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. ¹⁷ Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? ¹⁸ Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” ¹⁹ Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

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Ten lepers approached Jesus seeking healing, though they kept their distance. After all, to be a leper is to be an outcast. By leprosy, we’re not just talking about Hansen’s disease, but a number of skin conditions that made a person unclean. While the term might be used more broadly than we might today, the point is the same. When I think of leprosy, I think of the story of Fr. Damien and his ministry with the lepers on Molokai. What is interesting about this story is that in the end he himself contracted the disease, and he became as much an outcaste from society as the people with whom he ministered.

In the case of first century Judaism, leprosy in all its forms not only pushed one to the margins of the community, but more specifically its religious life. In the context of the need for ritual purity, to be so afflicted made one unclean. One remained uncleaned until the priests said otherwise. Then you would perform a set of rituals before reentering community life. Let us remember that unlike today there really was no separation from religious life and the rest of life.

In this story ten lepers approached Jesus and asked for mercy—that is healing. Jesus told them to go show themselves to the priests, which was the appropriate thing to do. In essence the priests served as both public health inspectors and as religious gate keepers. The procedure for being restored to the community was laid out quite clearly in Leviticus 14, and this is what they would have done (Leviticus 14).  Thus, if they let you inside the gates of religious life, then one could be admitted to the rest of community life. When Jesus told them to go to the priests, they did so, apparently convinced that Jesus would heal them.  This was an act of faith on their part, and as we see at the end of the passage, it is this faith, this confidence in Jesus’ ability to heal that lead them to head toward the priests.

  Of the ten, nine continued on once they discovered they had been made whole (healed/saved). We will assume they went to the priests, performed the prescribed rituals, and then continued on with life. They followed directions. As for the other leper, we learn that he was a Samaritan and thus a foreigner. Unlike the other nine, he turned around and praising God at the top of his voice went back to Jesus to thank him.

It’s important that we pause to consider this turn of events. I find it interesting that while he was a leper, and thus an outcaste, he found community among a group of Jewish lepers. While they were lepers they weren’t too concerned about this foreignness. They shared something in common (marginalization). In this case misery loved company. Would that sense of community continue after cleansing? Would his former friends welcome him or would they accept the view that Samaritans were heretics, foreigners, and thus still unclean?  Had the Samaritan continued on to see the priests, it’s unlikely the priests would welcome him.   I realize that this involves some reading between the lines, but it is intriguing.

We can presume that the nine received their bill of clean health and were restored to their families and communities. Everything was now as it should be. Thanks be to God!  But of course, this isn’t the purpose of the story. There are many other healing stories, but this is really about more than a healing. It has to do with extending the vision of whom God was claiming as part of the family.

As to why the Samaritan returned to Jesus, could it be that he didn’t have a priest to go to? It’s quite likely that had he gone to the Jewish priests they wouldn’t receive him, and as for Samaritan priests, perhaps one was not available. Therefore, even as one barrier was lifted, another remained in place. So, where else would he go to express his thanks to God? After all, it was Jesus who had lifted this burden from him.

Before we continue with the story of the Samaritan’s cleansing, it would be appropriate to once again take notice of how Luke portrays Jesus. For those of us who like a nice calm and compassionate Jesus, this Jesus can get a bit hot under the collar. He can appear judgmental at times. In this case, at least at first glance, Jesus seems piqued because the nine didn’t come back to say thanks. His own people didn’t return. Only the foreigner returned to give thanks. What’s the matter with them? Don’t they know who made them clean?  It is good to be grateful. It’s proper etiquette to say please and thank you.  But is that what Jesus is concerned about? It’s possible that Jesus was just a bit resentful. It happens to all of us. It happens to me. Hey, I do good things. Why don’t I get any thanks or recognition? But hopefully there’s more to the story than simply resentment that the nine didn’t return.

When reading Luke, it’s always good to remember that the Gospel is but part one of a two-part story. In part two the mission moves into the Gentile community. So, could encounters like this be previews of a sort, reminding us that Jesus has a broader vision than simply ministering to the Jewish community? When we get to the Book of Acts, we discover that the mission of the realm will encompass the world, a little bit at a time (Acts 1:8). If so, then this becomes a hint of what is to come. Perhaps Jesus is himself beginning to recognize the fullness of his calling.

Interestingly enough, Jesus commends the Samaritan for giving praise to God, even as he prostrates himself before Jesus. This act could be seen as an act of worship, or at the very least an act of homage, recognizing that God had worked through Jesus. Thus, for him there would be no need to visit the priest. Returning to Jesus accomplished this for him. Perhaps this is a precursor of what is to come when the message of Jesus is taken outward from Jerusalem to Samaria and then to the rest of the world. Thus, this is less of a healing story and more a mission story! Not only that, but once again one who is considered an outsider is offered up as an exemplar of faith, and as one who understands the importance of giving thanks and praise to God!  May we also show such gratitude.

 

 

 

Robert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

October 2, 2016

 

Luke 17:5-10 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

5 The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” 6 The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. 7 “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? 8 Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? 9 Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? 10 So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”

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Talk of slavery is always difficult, especially in the United States, where race-based slavery is part of our national story. It is as Jim Wallis calls it our “original sin.” Most people in this country who are of African descent are descendants of men and women who were brought here without their consent to serve their white masters. It took a war to end slavery and another century to end Jim Crow. We continue to deal with the ramifications of slavery to this day. So, reading a parable like this one from Luke 17 is difficult. To do so a week after the dedication of the Smithsonian Museum of African American History and Culture, even as football players protest against injustice and oppression by kneeling during the National Anthem, and the nation tries to make sense of two more shootings of black men by police, this passage seems out of place. With this as our context, what should we make of Jesus’ parable about the proper behavior of a slave?

 

We could simply focus on the parable of the mustard seed. It’s always a favorite. There’s not too much controversial about it, especially if you assume that telling the mulberry tree to uproot itself is to be taken metaphorically (I am tempted to tell a few hostas to get up and move to a new location, but it’s my fault that I planted too many of them too close together). Unfortunately, Jesus follows up the mustard seed parable with a word about the expectations placed on a slave. One would assume that it answers the question of faith, but still the comparison of the life faith to a master/slave relationship should be troubling to us. Is this really how Jesus understands our relationship to God? Despite our discomfort, we can’t erase it. According to Luke, this is what Jesus said to his audience.  Kimberly Bracken Long suggests that we remember the context. First century slavery was different than American chattel slavery. In context at least some slaves worked for a period of years and that at the end would be released from their bonds. This is called indentured servitude. In this case you have a duty, you fulfill it, so why would you expect to be thanked? Long writes in response that “what Jesus describes is a relationship between master and servant that is marked by mutual accountability and expectation. The master expects the servants to perform their duties, and the servants, in turn, expect that when their work is done they will receive nourishment and rest and protection” [Feasting on the Word, C:4, p.142].

I will confess that I’m preaching on a different text this week, one that better matches World Communion Sunday (though it also has its issues. If only Luke was more selective in the words he chose to share from the lips of Jesus). Whether we like it or not the parable of the worthless slave can be found Luke’s Gospel and is part of the lection for the 20^th Sunday after Pentecost. Even with Long’s interpretation, what do we do with it?

I titled the reflection “Doing Our Duty,” in large part because it appears that this is the message Jesus is communicating. The life of faith (vs. 5-6) can be seen as doing one’s duty. Jesus offers this message in response to a request on the part of his disciples for more faith. According to the parable of the mustard seed, they should have sufficient faith already. After all, a mustard seed isn’t all that big! Why is such a small amount of faith sufficient? Could it be that what we really need is obedience, unquestioned obedience? Indeed, according to the parable it would seem that disciples are slaves of God, and should do what is commanded.

Having recently completed binge watching the Stargate SG1 series, which calls into question blind loyalty to false gods, whether the Goa’uld or the Ori, I’ve been pushed to ask why we should even offer blind loyalty to the God revealed to us by Jesus? I’m not saying that the God I worship is the same as the Goa’uld or the Ori, but is blind loyalty a good thing? Is it not the foundation for all kinds of evil (as was perpetrated in the name of the above false gods)?

In the parable, which illustrates the life of faith, this time in a master/slave analogy, we are told that we should not expect commendation from the master, for “we have done only what we ought to have done!”  One thing I’ve learned over the years is that Jesus has a tendency to push boundaries. He exaggerates things on occasion. He usually doesn’t leave clear clues when he’s doing that. Many people understand religion in terms of duty. They go to church week in and week out because that’s what’s expected of them. They give their offerings to the church on a regular basis. Some give every week. They’ve been doing this since childhood. To be anywhere else on Sunday morning would be strange for them. Of course, this sense of duty seems to be on the decline as time passes. The younger you are the less likely you are to see things in this way, which may explain why many mainline churches have a preponderance of older people in the pews. For their consistency of presence, I’m thankful!

 

There is nothing wrong with duty. In many ways duty is about habits that are formed in the course of life. They keep us going. They enable stability. In one sense the life of faith is an adventure. In another it is a disciplined journey. There is a pathway and there is a guide. The life of faith involves taking that pathway and following the guide. To do otherwise is likely to lead to trouble. The parable might appear rather stark and off-putting to us, but if we partner it with other passages that assure us that God is loving and compassionate, then the edge is taken off. Indeed, let us remember Jesus’ own words to his friends and disciples as he prepared for his own death: “For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves”  (Luke 22:27).  Let us consider this parable in light of that message. Jesus comes  not as the master, but as the servant. This is an appropriate thought for Wold Communion Sunday, for in John 13, Jesus washes the disciples feet as a sign of his station as servant. In that context we can the word that duty has its place!

 

 

 

Robert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

Luke 16:19-31 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

¹⁹ “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. ²⁰ And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, ²¹ who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. ²² The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. ²³ In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. ²⁴ He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’²⁵ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. ²⁶ Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ ²⁷ He said, ‘Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— ²⁸ for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ ²⁹ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ ³⁰ He said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ ³¹ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

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Back in 1983 Dan Aykroyd and Eddie Murphy starred in a movie titled Trading Places. It’s been a few years, but maybe you remember the movie in which a snobbish rich man played by Dan Aykroyd gets switched with a street con artist played Eddie Murphy. They find themselves in the other’s shoes, trying to make sense of their differing situations. This proves especially difficult for Aykroyd’s character because he’s not used to having to deal with life on the streets. While his previous life had been relatively easy, now it was much more difficult!  While the plotline for Trading Places doesn’t exactly parallel that of Lazarus and the Rich Man, there is in this parable a reversal of fortunes. In a real way they traded places.

In the parable, Jesus tells the story of a rich man who lived in the lap of luxury, and who couldn’t be bothered with the needs of those less fortunate than him. On the other hand, there is a poor man sitting at his gate. He’s hungry and he’s covered with sores. Everything about this life is opposite to the other. If only a few scraps from the rich man’s table could reach him, he might satisfy his hunger, at least for a moment. It’s at death that the reversal of fortunes comes (not the result of a bet on the part of a couple of bored millionaires). While the poor man ends up in the heavenly realm in the company of Father Abraham, the rich man ends up in Hades, where he is tormented by intense and constant fire. You can see where the idea of the fires of hell gets its biblical support.  Whereas the poor man experienced torment in this life, in the next it was the rich man.

Most of us like to root for the underdog. So, when we hear this parable, we’re likely to side with Lazarus. It’s a good thing that he found the comfort in the next life that was never available to him in this life. As for the rich man, if you don’t think of yourself as being rich, then you may feel like this rich man got what he deserved. We middle class folk derive a certain satisfaction when the rich fall, even as we enjoy the opportunity to pity the poor. If you’re middle class, you can sit in between and feel as if the story isn’t about you, but is that true?  For some of my compatriots, when it comes to taking care of the poor, that’s the responsibility of the rich. Tax them and take care of the poor. If we do that then the poor get taken care of, but my taxes will stay the same (or so I’d like to think).  Besides, could it be that when Jesus envisions the rich man he had me in mind?

This parable follows after the parable of the dishonest steward (Luke 16:1-13). Both parables speak to some degree about the role of money and wealth and how we handle it responsibly. In the earlier passage Jesus warns against falling prey to the idol of wealth. You can’t serve God and mammon both. You’ll have to choose, and it’s not an easy choice. In this second parable the pursuit of wealth and luxury lands the rich man in Hades. The reason doesn’t appear to be the wealth itself, but the way the man lived his life. He simply ignored Lazarus. The needs of the poor were irrelevant to him. As I read the parable and thought about its implications, I began to wonder if the embrace of philanthropy on the part of many wealthy people results from having heard this parable? Who wants to end up in Hades? If you can forestall that with a little sharing, isn’t that a good thing?

What is interesting about this parable isn’t just the reversal of fortunes in the afterlife, but that Jesus also treats the characters differently. Did you notice that Luke gives the poor man a name (Lazarus), but fails to do the same for the rich man? I think this is intentional. It is worth pointing out that the name Luke chooses is also the name of the man Jesus raises from the dead in John 11. There are some interesting connections, but the Lazarus in John isn’t poor, or doesn’t appear to be.  The rich man, on the other hand, the one who is dressed purple and fine linen, and gets to dine on a sumptuous feast every day while Lazarus lays outside his door, both hungry and sick (the neighborhood dogs come and lick his wounds), lacks a name. There are three primary characters. Two of them have names, but the rich man doesn’t. That’s another reversal of fortune, but since names are important, especially in the ancient world, tradition calls him Dives. Later interpreters may have felt sorry for him and figured if Lazarus had a name, then so should he. Jesus, however, didn’t think that was necessary!

Returning to the parable, Lazarus is situated by the side of Abraham, who in first century Judaism was considered the patron saint of hospitality. Lazarus now enjoys what was withheld from him in life. The rich man is very aware of his own torment, but interestingly enough now that he is in torment he finally acknowledges Lazarus. He even knows his name. He requests of Abraham, that Lazarus be sent to dip his finger in water and bring some relief to his torment. The sense of superiority that was present in life, remains present in death. Abraham, however, refuses to let this occur. Things are as they are.

The rich man, feeling some concern for his family, asks that Lazarus be sent to warn them (sort of like Jacob Marley is sent to warn Scrooge), so that they might repent. Abraham again refuses, suggesting that if they don’t listen to Moses and the prophets (the Scriptures), then why would they listen to the dead? This response raises an interesting question—is repentance possible for the wealthy? The answer should be yes, since we have other stories in Luke where the wealthy do repent (witness Zacchaeus).

Contextually the parable is a reminder of God’s choice to bless the poor, that God is on the side of the poor, which is a reversal of fortunes. If we consider ourselves followers of Jesus, then how does his own sense of calling as the one who brings good news to the poor define our own sense of calling (Lk 4:18)?  If we desire to be on God’s side, shouldn’t we follow Jesus’ example and side with the poor? Indeed, what does this parable say to those of us living in middle-class America? If Abraham is the patron saint of hospitality, what might this parable say to us about how we share the Table? Do we invite everyone, or only those who are like us?

Picture attribution: Lazarus waiting at the door, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55712 [retrieved September 19, 2016]. Original source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:TaullLlatzer.jpg.

 

 

Robert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

 

 

Luke 16:1-13 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

16 Then Jesus said to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. ² So he summoned him and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.’ ³ Then the manager said to himself, ‘What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. ⁴ I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.’ ⁵ So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ ⁶ He answered, ‘A hundred jugs of olive oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.’ ⁷ Then he asked another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ He replied, ‘A hundred containers of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill and make it eighty.’ ⁸ And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. ⁹ And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes. ¹⁰ “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. ¹¹ If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth,^[d] who will entrust to you the true riches?¹² And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? ¹³ No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

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I don’t know about you, but I find this particular parable a bit baffling. Of course, if you find it baffling, you’re in good company. That seems to be the scholarly consensus. The comment on this parable in the Jewish Annotated New Testament is a good example: “The parable defies any fully satisfactory explanation” (p. 134). The parable appears in a section of Luke’s Gospel that speaks of proper use of money, with the next parable in line being that of Lazarus and the rich man (Luke 16:19-31). In this parable a rich man fires his manager because the manager had squandered the master’s property. What happens next isn’t all that surprising, but the use Jesus makes of it is rather interesting.

The question the reader might have is why Jesus would commend a dishonest manager for choosing to make friends by making deals with the master’s money. If we assume that most parables describe God’s realm, then this parable should raise a few questions about who this master is and how the parable applies to kingdom living. After all, the manager in question has already been identified as dishonest and then as one who defrauds the master during the brief time between discovery and having to leave the office. No wonder many businesses and employers march their fired employees out of the building immediately after the firing, accompanied by security. You want to make sure that no shenanigans occur!

The parable is followed by a call to be faithful in one’s charge (not something the manager was) and then a word of wisdom about the impossibility of serving two masters—God and wealth. Contextually, this parable leads up to a critique of Pharisees, who Luke describes, reflecting a well-worn stereotype, as being money-grubbers (vs. 14). As is so often true when we read the Gospels we need to be aware of these stereotypes, because they often lead to unfortunate anti-Jewish sentiments.

In the parable, the dishonest manager settles accounts with clients by reducing their debt in the hope that he will be welcomed by them—a little quid pro quo. As a result, the rich man commends the manager for his shrewdness. That is because, as Jesus suggests, the children of this age are shrewder than the children of light. Shrewdness, apparently gains friends who welcome you into the “eternal homes.” What we should make of this wisdom about making friends with mammon, is difficult to say. It could be a reminder that as long as we live in this world, we will have to deal with money. Thus, we should use it wisely for purposes of the realm—our eternal homes. Perhaps John Wesley has been the most quoted respondent to this message, for in a sermon on Luke 16:9 he declares:

Gain all you can, without hurting either yourself or your neighbour, in soul or body, by applying hereto with unintermitted diligence, and with all the understanding which God has given you; —save all you can, by cutting off every expense which serves only to indulge foolish desire; to gratify either the desire of flesh, the desire of the eye, or the pride of life; waste nothing, living or dying, on sin or folly, whether for yourself or your children;—and then, give all you can, or, in other words, give all you have to God.[http://www.umcmission.org/Find-Resources/John-Wesley-Sermons/Sermon-50-The-Use-of-Money].

Wesley’s interpretation has something to commend. It is shrewd, to say the least!

While I may struggle with this parable, I do get the wisdom of being shrewd in one’s use of money and in one’s dealings with the world. That’s what makes this parable intriguing. There is something here that is similar to a statement of Jesus found in the Gospel of Matthew.  In Matthew Jesus tells the disciples that in the coming days they will face persecution, and so they need to be prepared. As they go out into the world, Jesus says: “See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16). Is that what Jesus is intending us to hear in Luke 16? Be as wise as serpents and as innocent as doves?

The fact that Luke has Jesus follow up this parable distinguishing between faithful and dishonest handling of things, suggests that whatever Jesus intends in the parable, he’s not encouraging dishonesty. Nevertheless, the parable isn’t merely there for our entertainment. Jesus wants us to catch something here about shrewdness or cunning. Perhaps another way of saying this is to contrast wisdom with naiveté. To live in this world, requires wisdom and insight. Naiveté about the world puts one at a great disadvantage. To be innocent doesn’t mean being subject to scammers and con artists. In this context, could we think in terms of “get rich quick” schemes, many of which are perpetrated in the name of God (i.e. the “prosperity gospel”). Purveyors of such schemes are like the dishonest manager. They’re shrewd. Therefore, we must be shrewd (wise as serpents) as well, so that we don’t get scammed.

In this case, because Jesus is in a debate with the Pharisees, it would seem that Jesus is suggesting that they’re akin to scam artists. They’re fleecing the sheep. As I noted earlier, we must be cautious here so that we do not engage in anti-Jewish stereotypes. By the time that Luke writes his gospel, the Jewish/Christian divide has begun to set in. Late first century debates may color the presentation, and we must shrewdly take account of them.

As we move from this rather odd parable to Jesus’ interpretation, things may get clearer. We are to be faithful and honest, not dishonest. We will, Jesus says, be entrusted with as much as we can handle. The more honest and faithful, the more responsibility we will be given. The more dishonest, the less will be entrusted to us. Therefore, Jesus is not commending the manager’s dishonesty, though he is calling on us to be wise in our dealings with the world. No head in the clouds discipleship here.

So, if the dishonest manager is not to be seen as an example of faithful discipleship, what should we take from this discussion? I think one thing is clear—much has changed over the past two millennia, but human nature hasn’t changed much. The lure of wealth, riches, power, is as strong today as it was then. We live in a world where power can easily be corrupted, often by money. We are, after all, in the middle of a political season, where money talks. The same is true in religious circles. Institutions require funding, and so it is easy to let money direct the ministry of the church.  That may not be wise! So, when it comes to money, let us be wise (shrewd) and make use of whatever comes our way for purposes of God’s realm.

 

 

Robert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

Luke 14:25-33 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

25 Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, 26 “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. 27 Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? 29 Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, 30 saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’ 31 Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? 32 If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. 33 So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

*****************

When I read this passage words from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s book Cost of Discipleship come to mind: “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” Everyone who knows Bonhoeffer’s story knows of his execution and thus connects his death with these words. This is what it means to be a disciple of Jesus. Bonhoeffer explored in great depth the relationship of discipleship and the cross, and for him the cross involved the expectation of suffering. It’s not just any suffering, it’s not sickness or injury, it is suffering that comes as a result of one’s confession of faith in Christ. Looking out at his own context of 1930s Germany, he could take note of how “a Christianity that no longer took discipleship seriously remade the gospel into only the solace of cheap grace” [Discipleship, p. 86].

The cost involved in the kind of discipleship that Bonhoeffer described involves a choice. Will we follow Jesus no matter where he leads? Are we ready to do the math and count the cost of discipleship? Are we ready to let go of the ties that bind us to family, nation, community? It is interesting Bonhoeffer remained close to his family and friends to the very end. He did lose his position as a teacher and pastor. He was imprisoned and finally executed, though the latter was related less to his confession of faith and more with his involvement in the resistance to Hitler’s rule in Germany. Still, there was a cost involved in standing against tyranny, and this resistance was nurtured by discipleship.

When Bonhoeffer was writing his important theological works the cultural Christianity that marked the nation of Germany was being tested. Christians were being asked to decide whether to stand with the regime or with Christ. There were those—the German Christians—who embraced Nazi ideology and reformulated the faith to fit it. Is it possible that we can fall prey to similar temptations? Can the flag become a sacred symbol? I find it interesting as I drive around the community the number of churches flying the American flag high above any other sacred symbol. There were others who rejected Nazi ideology, at least when it came to mixing the ideology with their theology. They weren’t ready to embrace an Aryan Christ, but they were proud Germans and supported their government. Bonhoeffer was of the opinion that this was insufficient. One had to go beyond the protests of Barmen and stake a claim of opposition to Hitler, and that opposition, as he very well knew could cost one’s life, or at the very least great suffering.

Jesus had gained quite a following among the people. Miracles can do that! It seems that the time had come for Jesus to do a reality check. Who was really ready to be a true disciple? Who among his followers was ready to let go every relationship that might stand in the way of following Jesus to the cross? Here in Luke Jesus uses the strong word “hate.” The kind of hate he speaks of here isn’t that angry emotional hatred that we associate with the word. Instead it is the act of distancing oneself from all entanglements with the world. It is a word about choices and decisions. As we learn in the parable that precedes this passage, when the invitation to the Great Banquet, which is symbolic of the realm of God, those invited turn down the invitation because they’re too busy to attend. This leads the lord of the banquet to invite those not usually invited so that the original invitees can’t change their mind and come at the last minute. They had their chance, but they wasted it (Luke 14:15-24). Now the question is thrown out to the crowd that follows him. When the invitation is extended, will they accept or will they make excuses?

If we’re going to accept the invitation to discipleship, we’ll have to do the math. We’ll have to count the cost. Jesus illustrates this step with two brief parables or illustrations. The first has to do with building a tower. If you’re going to build a tower, you first have to determine the cost. Otherwise you’ll run into problems later on in the project. There’s a partially finished jail in Detroit. The county embarked on the project, but apparently ran out of money. So it sits, an unfinished unsightly mess. They would have been wise to heed Jesus’ words. The second parable has to do with the decision to go to war. If you go to war you had better plan for it. Wars are costly—bother in terms of human beings and money. If you’re going out to face an enemy that has 20,000 soldiers under arms, and you have 10,000, what is the likelihood of success? Would it be better to sue for peace or undertake the battle? Only wise planning can determine whether success is possible? The United States went to war in Iraq in 2003. That was thirteen years ago. Many died or were wounded in this war. Billions of dollars were spent in this war. Last I knew the war was still going on, though the enemy has apparently changed. What was promised as a quick victory has turned into another quagmire. Doing the math might help in such situations.

So what are the costs for being a disciple of Jesus in 21st century North America? What challenges do we face? For Luke’s community, even if death wasn’t likely to occur, there were certainly choices to be made. To follow Jesus likely meant being cut off from family and friends. In that culture being cut off was like death.

What are the costs of discipleship for Christians living in the United States or Western Europe? What suffering will we endure for our confession? Probably very little. I’m amused every Christmas at the claims made by those who feel put upon because Walmart employees say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” Or, those who feel persecuted because they can’t put a crèche on the lawn at city hall, even if they’re willing to add Santa and his reindeer to the scene. Or what about those who feel persecuted because they can’t pray at a football game? I could go on, but you know the drill. For those of us living in a land that guarantees freedom of religion, as long as that freedom doesn’t impinge on the freedoms of others, what are the costs of discipleship?

We might not face the prospect of suffering, but I know that brothers and sisters in places like China, Syria, Turkey, Libya, Iraq, and Iran, do face significant costs. Christians who have lived for centuries on the Nineveh Plain in Northern Iraq have faced difficult choices ranging from forced conversion to flight.

I expect they hear this passage differently than do members of my congregation. When the biggest choice we face is whether to go to church or go to a brunch, then discipleship has lost its costliness. Grace is often cheap for us. How then do you hear this passage anew?

 

Robert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).

Luke 14:25-33 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

25 Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, 26 “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. 27 Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? 29 Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, 30 saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’ 31 Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? 32 If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. 33 So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

*****************

When I read this passage words from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s book Cost of Discipleship come to mind: “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” Everyone who knows Bonhoeffer’s story knows of his execution and thus connects his death with these words. This is what it means to be a disciple of Jesus. Bonhoeffer explored in great depth the relationship of discipleship and the cross, and for him the cross involved the expectation of suffering. It’s not just any suffering, it’s not sickness or injury, it is suffering that comes as a result of one’s confession of faith in Christ. Looking out at his own context of 1930s Germany, he could take note of how “a Christianity that no longer took discipleship seriously remade the gospel into only the solace of cheap grace” [Discipleship, p. 86].

The cost involved in the kind of discipleship that Bonhoeffer described involves a choice. Will we follow Jesus no matter where he leads? Are we ready to do the math and count the cost of discipleship? Are we ready to let go of the ties that bind us to family, nation, community? It is interesting Bonhoeffer remained close to his family and friends to the very end. He did lose his position as a teacher and pastor. He was imprisoned and finally executed, though the latter was related less to his confession of faith and more with his involvement in the resistance to Hitler’s rule in Germany. Still, there was a cost involved in standing against tyranny, and this resistance was nurtured by discipleship.

When Bonhoeffer was writing his important theological works the cultural Christianity that marked the nation of Germany was being tested. Christians were being asked to decide whether to stand with the regime or with Christ. There were those—the German Christians—who embraced Nazi ideology and reformulated the faith to fit it. Is it possible that we can fall prey to similar temptations? Can the flag become a sacred symbol? I find it interesting as I drive around the community the number of churches flying the American flag high above any other sacred symbol. There were others who rejected Nazi ideology, at least when it came to mixing the ideology with their theology. They weren’t ready to embrace an Aryan Christ, but they were proud Germans and supported their government. Bonhoeffer was of the opinion that this was insufficient. One had to go beyond the protests of Barmen and stake a claim of opposition to Hitler, and that opposition, as he very well knew could cost one’s life, or at the very least great suffering.

Jesus had gained quite a following among the people. Miracles can do that! It seems that the time had come for Jesus to do a reality check. Who was really ready to be a true disciple? Who among his followers was ready to let go every relationship that might stand in the way of following Jesus to the cross? Here in Luke Jesus uses the strong word “hate.” The kind of hate he speaks of here isn’t that angry emotional hatred that we associate with the word. Instead it is the act of distancing oneself from all entanglements with the world. It is a word about choices and decisions. As we learn in the parable that precedes this passage, when the invitation to the Great Banquet, which is symbolic of the realm of God, those invited turn down the invitation because they’re too busy to attend. This leads the lord of the banquet to invite those not usually invited so that the original invitees can’t change their mind and come at the last minute. They had their chance, but they wasted it (Luke 14:15-24). Now the question is thrown out to the crowd that follows him. When the invitation is extended, will they accept or will they make excuses?

If we’re going to accept the invitation to discipleship, we’ll have to do the math. We’ll have to count the cost. Jesus illustrates this step with two brief parables or illustrations. The first has to do with building a tower. If you’re going to build a tower, you first have to determine the cost. Otherwise you’ll run into problems later on in the project. There’s a partially finished jail in Detroit. The county embarked on the project, but apparently ran out of money. So it sits, an unfinished unsightly mess. They would have been wise to heed Jesus’ words. The second parable has to do with the decision to go to war. If you go to war you had better plan for it. Wars are costly—bother in terms of human beings and money. If you’re going out to face an enemy that has 20,000 soldiers under arms, and you have 10,000, what is the likelihood of success? Would it be better to sue for peace or undertake the battle? Only wise planning can determine whether success is possible? The United States went to war in Iraq in 2003. That was thirteen years ago. Many died or were wounded in this war. Billions of dollars were spent in this war. Last I knew the war was still going on, though the enemy has apparently changed. What was promised as a quick victory has turned into another quagmire. Doing the math might help in such situations.

So what are the costs for being a disciple of Jesus in 21st century North America? What challenges do we face? For Luke’s community, even if death wasn’t likely to occur, there were certainly choices to be made. To follow Jesus likely meant being cut off from family and friends. In that culture being cut off was like death.

What are the costs of discipleship for Christians living in the United States or Western Europe? What suffering will we endure for our confession? Probably very little. I’m amused every Christmas at the claims made by those who feel put upon because Walmart employees say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” Or, those who feel persecuted because they can’t put a crèche on the lawn at city hall, even if they’re willing to add Santa and his reindeer to the scene. Or what about those who feel persecuted because they can’t pray at a football game? I could go on, but you know the drill. For those of us living in a land that guarantees freedom of religion, as long as that freedom doesn’t impinge on the freedoms of others, what are the costs of discipleship?

We might not face the prospect of suffering, but I know that brothers and sisters in places like China, Syria, Turkey, Libya, Iraq, and Iran, do face significant costs. Christians who have lived for centuries on the Nineveh Plain in Northern Iraq have faced difficult choices ranging from forced conversion to flight.

I expect they hear this passage differently than do members of my congregation. When the biggest choice we face is whether to go to church or go to a brunch, then discipleship has lost its costliness. Grace is often cheap for us. How then do you hear this passage anew?

 

Robert Cornwall is the Pastor of Central Woodward Christian Church in Troy, Michigan and is the author of a number of books including Marriage in Interesting Times (Energion, 2016) and Freedom in Covenant (Wipf and Stock, 2015).