“A wisdom in speaking” - 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 21:5-19
While some people were speaking about
how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings,
Jesus said, "All that you see here--
the days will come when there will not be left
a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down."
Then they asked him,
"Teacher, when will this happen?
And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?"
He answered,
"See that you not be deceived,
for many will come in my name, saying,
'I am he,' and 'The time has come.'
Do not follow them!
When you hear of wars and insurrections,
do not be terrified; for such things must happen first,
but it will not immediately be the end."
Then he said to them,
"Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.
There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues
from place to place;
and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky.
"Before all this happens, however,
they will seize and persecute you,
they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons,
and they will have you led before kings and governors
because of my name.
It will lead to your giving testimony.
Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand,
for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking
that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute.
You will even be handed over by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends,
and they will put some of you to death.
You will be hated by all because of my name,
but not a hair on your head will be destroyed.
By your perseverance you will secure your lives."

---

The liturgical year is ending. In two Sundays we’ll begin Advent, the start of a new Church year. Next week, for the final Sunday of “Ordinary Time,” we’ll mark the feast of Christ the King. Obviously, next week’s Gospel reading will draw our attention to the way Jesus is king of the universe. But this week’s Gospel also tells us something about Christ’s kingship. Jesus’ somewhat cryptic words this week about the end of the world and the way Christians should respond to persecution tell us not so much about the king himself, though, but about his kingdom. How so?

One thing we should notice about Jesus’ description of the world’s dysfunction is how often it utilizes “kingdoms” and “nations” and the clashes between them: “Nation will rise against nation,” Jesus says, “and kingdom against kingdom.” Or again: “they will have you led before kings and governors.” Or again: “when you hear of wars and insurrections….” Jesus depicts the kingdoms of the world as fundamentally chaotic. 

Let’s now juxtapose these kingdoms with the kingdom Jesus has been introducing to his disciples. Indeed, we should not forget what Jesus has been doing with his ministry up until now: he’s been describing to his disciples a certain way of life, and he always describes it as a kingdom. “The kingdom of God has come near to you,” Jesus says, summarizing for the disciples the message they should spread (Lk 10:9). Notice, too, how Jesus begins many of his parables: “the kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed,” or it’s like “leaven,” or it’s like “a mustard seed” (Mt 13:24, 33, 31). The parables are an attempt to illustrate what life in this mysterious kingdom is like. 

So what, then, is life in this kingdom like? “Blessed are you poor,” Jesus says “for yours is the kingdom of God” (Lk 6:20). The kingdom Jesus describes belongs not to the smartest, healthiest, or most well-off but to those who have been beaten by this world. It belongs to those “who hunger,” those “who weep,” and those “who are hated, excluded, and reviled” (Lk 6:21-23). He says that banquets in his kingdom are not held for “your wealthy neighbors,” but for “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” (Lk 14:12-13). On five different occasions Jesus insisted that, in his kingdom, “the first shall be last and the last shall be first.” Those who our world deems least significant, Jesus privileges with an elite status. 

It is a strange kingdom with strange laws. Indeed, it is illegal in Jesus’ kingdom not to be merciful. How different from the logic we’re accustomed to: “You have heard it said, ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say … if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also” (Mt 5:38-39).

Other kingdoms do not think this way. This is why they rise against each other, and even against Jesus’ kingdom. Jesus insists this week that the kingdom of God should not engage the kingdoms of this world by giving in to their logic. When you are confronted, he says, “do not prepare a defense!” There’s no need. Being a citizen of his kingdom will make you fluent in a certain language. It will give you “a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist.” This is the language of his kingdom, and its citizens know it well. It is the language of the beatitudes, the language of “meekness” and of “peacemaking.” It is the language of “purity in heart” and of “thirsting after righteousness” (Mt 5:3-11).

It is a strange kingdom that God has given us, with strange laws, and strange ways, and a strange language. It is certainly strange when compared to the kingdoms around us. But it is with this strange language that the kingdom of God gives testimony to the dysfunctional kingdoms of the world. It is the testimony that God’s kingdom is for the “poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind,” that mercy is the law of the land, and that righteousness is worth thirsting for. We are, indeed, a strange people. But this is the testimony the Spirit gives us when we are confronted by the world’s kingdoms. And this is the testimony that assures us, even should we be killed, that “not a hair on [our] heads will be destroyed.”


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"Not the God of the dead" - 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 20:27-38
Some Sadducees, those who deny that there is a resurrection,
came forward and put this question to Jesus, saying,
"Teacher, Moses wrote for us,
If someone's brother dies leaving a wife but no child,
his brother must take the wife
and raise up descendants for his brother.
Now there were seven brothers;
the first married a woman but died childless.
Then the second and the third married her,
and likewise all the seven died childless.
Finally the woman also died.
Now at the resurrection whose wife will that woman be?
For all seven had been married to her."
Jesus said to them,
"The children of this age marry and remarry;
but those who are deemed worthy to attain to the coming age
and to the resurrection of the dead
neither marry nor are given in marriage.
They can no longer die,
for they are like angels;
and they are the children of God
because they are the ones who will rise.
That the dead will rise
even Moses made known in the passage about the bush,
when he called out 'Lord,'
the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob;
and he is not God of the dead, but of the living,
for to him all are alive."

---

Since chapter 9 of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus has been travelling toward Jerusalem in order to die. Over the last several weeks, our readings have recounted his stops along the way and the parables he offers to those journeying with him. In chapter 19 ― just before this week’s reading ― Jesus arrives at the “Mount of Olives” which offers a spectacular view of Jerusalem below. Jesus’ emotion at the view is astonishing: “When he drew near and saw the city he wept over it.” Imagine the Son of God kneeling in the dirt weeping. Jesus suddenly addresses Jerusalem directly: “Would that … you knew the things that make for peace!” (Lk 19:41).

Jesus’ raises a difficult question here. What are “the things that make for peace”? Oddly enough, when Jesus enters Jerusalem moments later, his initial preoccupation is to teach people about true peace. His central point is that true peace cannot be given by this world. Indeed, he exposes the political motivations of the chief priests (Lk 20:1-8). He disputes with the scribes about what belongs to Caesar and to God (Lk 20:19-26). And then, though it might not seem like it, Jesus’ interaction this week with the Sadducees brings this lesson about true peace to a head. How so?

We must see, first, that Sadducees are similar to Pharisees. They represent a school of thought within Judaism. One thing that makes them unique is that they “deny that there is a resurrection.” Though they believe in God, they don’t believe in an afterlife. Jesus actually responds directly to this position. He asks the Sadducees to recall an important passage from the Old Testament when God identified himself to Moses as “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (Ex 3:6). His point is this: when God said this, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were all dead. How could God still, at that moment, have been the God of these three dead men if human beings ceased to exist upon dying? “He is not the God of the dead,” Jesus insists, “but of the living.” These men must somehow have been living even after their deaths. There must be an afterlife.

This is more than theological squabbling. This is actually the heart of what Jesus was weeping about above Jerusalem: “would that you knew the things that make for peace!” If the Sadducees are right ― if there is no afterlife ― then people will limit their search for peace to the things of this world. How quickly we’ll place our hopes in political gain like the chief priests or give ourselves up to financial concerns like the scribes. If you don’t believe in the next world, it’s much easier to live by the logic of this broken world. But these things cannot bring lasting peace. Indeed, even the good in this world cannot give us the truest peace. This world is filled with sunsets, and smiling children, and the joy of loving and of being loved. But is there anything more devastating than the idea of never getting to meet God? 

The Gospels record just two moments when Jesus shed tears. The first is when he learned his friend Lazarus had died (Jn 11:35). And then there is this time, the time he looked over Jerusalem while journeying there to die himself. On both occasions, he wept over the same thing: humanity’s distance from God. “If you had been here,” Lazarus’ sister tells Jesus, “my brother would not have died” (Jn 11:32). Jesus wept because his friend was dead, because there was now a distance between him and Lazarus. It is the same as he looks down upon Jerusalem from the mountain. The people he sees are living as if their peace comes from the accomplishments of this world, as if they will never meet God, as if the distance is permanent. This is why Jesus weeps. This is why Jesus disputes with the Sadducees ― to insist that death does not mean distance from God, but being placed in his arms forever. Above all, this is why Jesus journeys to Jerusalem and to his own death ― so that, by redeeming us, there may never be a distance between us and him again.

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"I must stay at your house" - 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 19:1-10
At that time, Jesus came to Jericho and intended to pass through the town.
Now a man there named Zacchaeus,
who was a chief tax collector and also a wealthy man,
was seeking to see who Jesus was;
but he could not see him because of the crowd,
for he was short in stature.
So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree in order to see Jesus,
who was about to pass that way.
When he reached the place, Jesus looked up and said,
"Zacchaeus, come down quickly,
for today I must stay at your house."
And he came down quickly and received him with joy.
When they all saw this, they began to grumble, saying,
"He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner."
But Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord,
"Behold, half of my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor,
and if I have extorted anything from anyone
I shall repay it four times over."
And Jesus said to him,
"Today salvation has come to this house
because this man too is a descendant of Abraham.
For the Son of Man has come to seek
and to save what was lost."

---

Though our Sunday lectionary readings skip the passage, just before this scene with Zacchaeus, Jesus famously told a rich man that if he wished to be saved, he must sell all he had and follow him (Lk 18:18-30). The crowds marveled at Jesus’ words: “who then can be saved?” Jesus immediately proceeded to answer their question, not with words, but by showing them the kind of people who can be saved. Indeed, in the next scene Jesus asks that a blind beggar be brought to him. “Your faith has made you well,” Jesus tells him. And, unlike the rich man, the text says that “immediately … he followed him.” Here, then, is a man “who can be saved” (Lk 18:35-43). 

It is the same with Zacchaeus in our Gospel reading for this week. Jesus’ encounter with Zacchaeus occurs right after his encounter with the blind beggar and is meant as another answer to the disciples’ question. But how is this so? The text says Zacchaeus is a “chief tax collector” and, as we know, tax collectors are notorious sinners ― they typically cheated people out of extra money for their own gain. So what is it about Zacchaeus that makes him the type of man who will be saved?  We might think it’s simply because Zacchaeus repents upon encountering Jesus: “half my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone I shall repay it four times over.” This is definitely part of the story, but there is something even more fundamental at work.

Notice that the text describes Zacchaeus as “a wealthy man, [who] was seeking to see who Jesus was.” Notice, too, what Jesus says to Zacchaeus after their interaction: “Today salvation has come to this house ... for the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.” At the beginning, we were led to believe this was a story about Zacchaeus’ seeking after Jesus. But it is really a story about Jesus seeking after Zacchaeus. Indeed, it is in this reversal that Jesus most reveals his answer to the disciples’ original question.

It might be the case that you are searching for the Lord, that you are seeking to know him better each day. But much more frantically does the Lord seek after you. It might be the case that ― like Zacchaeus ― you’ll climb a tree just to get a look at him. But he will insist you “come down quickly.” And look at the language he uses: “I must stay at your house.” He simply must. It’s as if Jesus has so fiercely sought you out that missing the chance to stay with you ― to just be with you ― would mean he missed everything.

Indeed, this is the grand answer to the disciples’ original question ―  “who then can be saved?” By our own initiative, no one can be saved. If it were up to men and women to seek out and finally arrive at God, they would all fall short. We would end up corrupt like Zacchaeus the tax collector. But Jesus will not let that be the last word. With Jesus, what is most important is not our weakness, but his desire to save you and to be with you. “I simply must stay at your house,” he says. “I simply must draw near and be with you.” Jesus knows that we are weak, that we are corrupt, and that our houses are unkempt, so to speak. But he simply must stay there. That is how Zacchaeus can be transformed. That is how anyone can be transformed. 

We are saved because God so desperately wants to be with us and near us that he will not stop seeking us out. Indeed, the story of your life is not the story of your seeking after God; it is the story of God seeking after you. This is what drives Zacchaeus’ repentance and transformation. And today, “salvation has come to [your] house” ― because he must stay with you, he must be near you ― “for the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost.”


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"I am not like the rest of humanity" - 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 18:9-14
Jesus addressed this parable
to those who were convinced of their own righteousness
and despised everyone else.
"Two people went up to the temple area to pray;
one was a Pharisee and the other was a tax collector.
The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself,
'O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity --
greedy, dishonest, adulterous -- or even like this tax collector.
I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.'
But the tax collector stood off at a distance
and would not even raise his eyes to heaven
but beat his breast and prayed,
'O God, be merciful to me a sinner.'
I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former;
for whoever exalts himself will be humbled,
and the one who humbles himself will be exalted."

---

In the ancient world, everyone hated tax collectors. The Romans, who levied the taxes, allowed private entrepreneurs to travel around collecting the dues. In order to make extra money, though, these collectors ― sometimes called “publicans” ― usually cheated people out of extra money, which they then kept for themselves. Indeed, tax collectors were often scandalously rich. So when Jesus tells this parable about the imaginary tax collector praying in the Temple, we should not imagine that his audience was predisposed to admire such men. 

How provocative, then, for Jesus to say that this despised tax collector “went home justified” from the Temple while the Pharisee who “fasts twice a week and pays tithes on [his] whole income” did not. Even though the tax collector had been leading a corrupt life, Jesus insists that “the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” In God’s eyes, the publican ― though a scoundrel by trade ― is more righteous than the Pharisee. The tax collector knows he is a sinner and his confession has transformed him. The Pharisee, on the other hand, is righteous only on the surface. He keeps the fasts and pays the tithes, but he “was convinced of his own righteousness and despised everyone else.” 

But there’s a subtle detail to Jesus’ parable that, though often overlooked, deepens the story in a crucial way. It is true that the Pharisee prays all sorts of self-righteous and judgmental things ― “O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity!” ― and that, in itself, is damaging enough. But we should also notice that, when the Pharisee began to pray, the text says he “spoke [his] prayer to himself.” This does not just mean he spoke his prayer in such a way that only he could hear it. No, as St. Basil the Great (d. 379) once said, the Pharisee actually “prayed ... not to God … but to himself…. For his sin of pride sent him back into himself.” The Pharisee was so preoccupied with his own righteousness that his words were really just directed at himself rather than the God he claimed to worship. 

This is actually a very troubling detail. Recall that Jesus addressed this parable “to those who are convinced of their own righteousness.” That means it’s addressed to you and me. We all admit we’re imperfect. But, if we’re honest, we often think, like the Pharisee, that we are “not like the rest of humanity,” that we stand out from the crowd. Jesus also addressed “those who … despise everyone else.” We would never say we “despise” them, but, if we’re honest, don’t we sometimes look at the people around us ― without ever trying to know their story ― in the same way the Pharisee looked at the publican? “O God, I thank you that I am not … like this tax collector.” Don’t we often harbor a similar unspoken disdain for those we’re sure have fallen short of us? “Thank you, God, that I am not like this atheist.” Don’t we sometimes even think this way in the pew? We’re never as explicit as the Pharisee, but how sure are we that we’re not muttering the same things somewhere in the back of our minds? 

The disturbing thing is that, when we fall into these patterns of thinking, Jesus’ parable tells us that we aren’t even communing with God anymore. When we are so preoccupied with ourselves, our prayers ― what we thought were dialogues with God ― become fruitless monologues with ourselves. We become so concerned with distinguishing ourselves from others that our vision cannot escape the horizon of our own vanity and, yes, we begin to worship ourselves. 

The only correct response when one looks at their soul is that of the tax collector: “O God, be merciful to me a sinner.” When we look at ourselves, there is nothing else to do but to reach out to God for mercy. If you make a case for yourself ― either by presenting a résumé of your righteousness or by comparing yourself to others ― then you’re not even speaking with God anymore; you’ve recentered the conversation entirely around yourself. Indeed, it is “the one who humbles himself who will be exalted.” It is the one who recognizes that there is nothing to do but ask for God’s help who will be exalted. It is this one who “will go home justified.”

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Prayer as a Black Eye - 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 18:1-8
Jesus told his disciples a parable
about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary.
He said, "There was a judge in a certain town
who neither feared God nor respected any human being.
And a widow in that town used to come to him and say,
'Render a just decision for me against my adversary.'
For a long time the judge was unwilling, but eventually he thought,
'While it is true that I neither fear God nor respect any human being,
because this widow keeps bothering me
I shall deliver a just decision for her
lest she finally come and strike me.'"
The Lord said, "Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says.
Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones
who call out to him day and night?
Will he be slow to answer them?
I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily.
But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?"

---

Jesus was funnier than you think. Because the Gospels do not depict any of the times Jesus laughed, the humorous side of Jesus’ personality is often forgotten. But his parables are often quite comical, and this parable about the widow and the judge “who neither feared God nor respected any human being” is one such parable. 

The central meaning of the story isn’t all that difficult to discover. Just before this passage, Jesus made clear to his apostles that the end of the world has not yet come. Thus, while they are waiting, Jesus offers this week’s parable “about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary.” His analogy is quite simple. The old widow obtained her request by constantly petitioning the unjust judge. How much more will you obtain your requests by constantly petitioning the God who cares for his chosen ones? It’s a point that Christianity takes very seriously ― the effectiveness of constant prayer. But there’s a hilariousness to this story that needs to be parsed out, and not just because it’s funny. Indeed, its funniness also tells us something significant about Jesus and about the way God relates to us. 

Notice that, in the parable, the unjust judge was originally unwilling to rule in favor of the widow against her adversary. Notice, too, the reason he changes his mind: “I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me.” That is the translation the lectionary uses, and it’s totally fine. But, as one bible scholar puts it, the original Greek is comically “delicious.” Indeed, the text can be translated a number of ways. Here’s how the Sacra Pagina Catholic commentary translates it: “This widow gives me so much trouble that I will give her justice! Otherwise she will keep coming and end up giving me a black eye!” What a bizarre analogy Jesus uses for prayer! To God, the prayers of the faithful can be just as effective as sending an old widow to physically assault him. Indeed, “will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night?” 

Jesus’ analogy also tells us something essential about himself. The apostles one day stumbled upon Jesus praying alone. “Lord, teach us to pray,” one of them asked, moved by what he’d seen (Lk 11:1). We might expect Jesus, when he teaches us about prayer, to offer some impenetrable insight about contemplation. I mean, he’s God ― why shouldn’t pure white light come from his mouth? Perhaps we expect him to offer some koan ― “what is the sound of one hand clapping?” ― that will reveal to us the true nature of prayer only after years of brutally disciplined meditation. No. The Son of God instead compares your prayers to a cranky old widow physically wailing upon a judge until she gets her way. You can practically see the black handbag flying through the air, one scholar has commented. What a bizarre and, quite frankly, humorous image. And, for Jesus, this is the nature of prayer. 

Jesus uses human images because he is ordinary, even while he’s extraordinary. He is human, real, and funny, all while being God. When he speaks to us, he doesn’t blast our minds with something incomprehensible, but teaches us about the nature of prayer with a gritty and goofy analogy. And if, in fact, this brutal widow exemplifies prayer, then you should really let God have it; give him a black eye with your prayers. As Jesus said, “I tell you, [God] will see to it that justice is done for [you] speedily.”


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"None but this foreigner" - 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 17:11-19
As Jesus continued his journey to Jerusalem,
he traveled through Samaria and Galilee.
As he was entering a village, ten lepers met him.
They stood at a distance from him and raised their voices, saying,
"Jesus, Master!  Have pity on us!"
And when he saw them, he said,
"Go show yourselves to the priests."
As they were going they were cleansed.
And one of them, realizing he had been healed,
returned, glorifying God in a loud voice;
and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him.
He was a Samaritan.
Jesus said in reply,
"Ten were cleansed, were they not?
Where are the other nine?
Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?"
Then he said to him, "Stand up and go;
your faith has saved you."

---

Let’s start with leprosy. In the ancient world ― and for the Jews especially ― leprosy was not something to mess around with. In fact, according to Jewish law, lepers were not allowed to participate in worship ceremonies. Neither were they allowed to live integrated within the Jewish community: “put out of the camp every leper,” the Book of Numbers says, “that they may not defile the camp in the midst of which [God] dwells” (Nm 5:2-3). More than that, in ancient Israel, lepers were required to publicly announce their condition: “The leper who has the disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head hang loose, and he shall … cry, “unclean! unclean!” (Lv 13:45). 

Ten of these miserable men met Jesus while he was travelling through Samaria and Galilee. Notice they are following the norms, not daring to approach the crowd: “they stood at a distance from him and raised their voices.” But we should also notice that, where they usually shout to announce their uncleanness, here they shout for help: “Jesus! Master! Have pity on us!” 

There is a second crucial but somewhat hidden detail to this story. We need to notice how the gospel is at pains to point out that the only leper who returns to thank Jesus is a Samaritan. It makes sense that there would be Samaritans around. Jesus is travelling through Samaria, and Samaritans are from Samaria. But there is more to it than that. The Samaritans were a splinter group within Judaism. They had a different set of priests from the mainstream Jews, they disagreed on which books belonged in the Bible, and they refused to worship in the Jerusalem Temple. In fact, when Jesus told the lepers to “show [themselves] to the priests,” the nine Jewish lepers would have gone to the high priests in Jerusalem while the Samaritan would have gone to the priest on Mount Gerizim in Samaria. 

The point is that mainstream Jews hated Samaritans. They were “foreigners” who worshipped in the wrong Temple. In Jewish literature, the word “Samaritan” was always used derogatorily. In John’s Gospel, a group of Jews even insult Jesus by calling him “a Samaritan” (Jn 8:48). It is no small thing that Jesus heals a Samaritan. Neither is it a small thing when Jesus addresses the Jewish crowd with some sharpness or even sarcasm: “Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine?” Jesus is putting his finger on this religious tension. Indeed, he is being extraordinarily provocative with his Jewish audience: “has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?” 

It is important that we see this Samaritan as a real man who suffered through a real life. He was not a character in a parable. We can understand his gratitude. But we can also see in his story something of our own lives. We are lepers, all of us, in our weakness. In truth, we belong outside the camp. We are, all of us, Samaritans. We are, if we’re honest, not quite doing this whole Christianity thing right ― and so we are doubly estranged. But have you noticed that Jesus usually does business with those who are most estranged and broken? That means Jesus has business with us. Even if we are weak, estranged, and broken, let us have the courage ― like the Samaritan did ― to stop shouting “unclean! unclean!” when we look at ourselves and start shouting “Jesus! Master! Have pity on us!” Surely, should we see it through, we will hear Jesus reply: “Stand up! Go! Your faith has saved you!”


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"What we were obliged to do" - 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 17:5-10
The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith."
The Lord replied,
"If you have faith the size of a mustard seed,
you would say to this mulberry tree,
'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.
"Who among you would say to your servant
who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field,
'Come here immediately and take your place at table'?
Would he not rather say to him,
'Prepare something for me to eat.
Put on your apron and wait on me while I eat and drink.
You may eat and drink when I am finished'?
Is he grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded?
So should it be with you.
When you have done all you have been commanded,
say, 'We are unprofitable servants; 
we have done what we were obliged to do.'"

---

Jesus’ words to the apostles sound strange to modern ears: “Who among you would say to your servant … ‘come here immediately and take your place at table’? Would he not instead say … you may eat and drink when I am finished’?” Not having hired servants, most of us are not entirely sure how we’d manage their dining schedule. Confused with this passage, we usually just move along to the next parable. 

By zooming out, we might get a clearer picture of what Jesus is up to. Since chapter 9 of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus has been journeying to Jerusalem in order to die. All along the way, he’s been offering teachings and parables to the people who are following him along the road. He preached about how the “last will be first” and about the woman who upended her house in search of a single lost coin. He dined with Pharisees and insisted we invite “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” to our banquets. He preached about a father whose mercy runs reckless abandon to embrace his prodigal son. 

This should clarify the opening words of this week’s reading. After spending this time with Jesus ― after being moved by his teaching ― the apostles beg him: “Increase our faith!” Jesus’ reply is a tad painful. He says that “if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” Though it isn’t obvious in English, in the original Greek it is only possible grammatically to read Jesus’ words in one way. He is insisting that the apostles do not in fact have a mustard seed’s worth of faith. They are right to beg for an increase! 

But then Jesus immediately moves into this bit about the time one’s servants should eat dinner. This might seem disconnected, but it is not. Jesus is recalling the basic rules that govern social relations in the households of the ancient world. When a servant comes in from the day’s work, he would proceed to make dinner. It would be absurd if the master of the house immediately invited him to sit down to eat ― the servant himself had not yet made the meal! More than that, Jesus points out to the apostles how strange it would be for the master to shower the servant with praise as he began making the meal: “Is [the master] grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded?” Indeed, it was not extraordinary for him to begin making this meal. Based on the agreements proper to his position, the servant was simply doing what he was obliged to do. The servant himself would have found such praise strange.

So how is this relevant to the apostles and their desire for more faith? Again, after hearing him preach, the apostles were struck by the way of life Jesus was offering. His story about the servant is meant to remind the apostles that the way of life Jesus is offering constitutes the basic obligation for a Christian. Household workers in the ancient world had basic obligations. So do Christians. You are to put those who come last in this world first (Lk 13:30), you are to forgive your brother when he wrongs you seven times a day (Lk 17:4). And even when Christians have done all this, they are right to beg for an increase in their faith ― as the apostles did ― for this would only make them“unprofitable servants” who merely “have done what [they] were obliged to do.” 

Jesus’ words reveal something important about the nature of Christian humility. Christians ought not to look on their acts of love as extraordinary, as they are often tempted to do. In Jesus’ mind, acting like a Christian makes you equal to the student who didn’t cheat on her math test. This isn’t something to write home about ― it’s a basic obligation. For Christians, putting those who are last first does not make one extraordinary, it makes one a regular citizen of the Kingdom of God.


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