Pentecost 15: 5 September Luke 14:25-33
This passage offends against the values which most people hold dear. Worse than that, it offends against the love commandment by enjoining hate. Matthew’s version sanitises the saying by converting ‘hate’ to ‘love less’. What was Jesus up to? He comes through as something of a loose cannon, firing off shots in all directions without much concern for the consequences. This does not match the Jesus we find elsewhere. But before we ‘tame’ the saying, we do well to reel a little more in shock. It is shocking and doubtless intended to be shocking.
Why the dynamite? What is in need of such a blast? Clearly the assumption is that the object to be dislodged will take some moving. That object is family power. Family power and control which will not release from its womb, but has become a cage, a prison, but more often a comfortable and secure place in which to turn aside from one’s potential and the world’s challenge. The voice of Jesus articulates human need - one’s own and that of others - and calls people to discipleship. Discipleship means a relationship of learning and growth with Jesus as the teacher and God as God, not family.
Domestication confines religion to the domus, the home and family. In Jesus’ teaching we regularly meet challenges directed against so-called family values. To read Jesus as enjoining literal hatred of one’s family is to miss the point and mishear the rhetoric. But such shocking rhetoric reflects a view that families can constrict growth, become oppressive demons, and bring death rather than life. According to Mark, Jesus’ own (family) though he was mad and sought in their terms to rescue him (3:20-21, 31-35).
People today can recite a range of experiences about family demonics. Sometimes it is blatant abuse, whether by parent of child or among siblings or in marriage. Sometimes the destructiveness is more ‘innocent’: the peace and ‘goodness’ of family has suppressed self exploration and generation of self worth to the point where long after their passing the parents, internalised, continue to dictate terms and only with careful therapy can the soul find release. Sometimes it is much bigger than personal freedom and manifests itself in closed minds, eyes trained not to see, ears not to hear, lives self-preoccupied with often a kind of private goodness but no heart for compassion and justice in the world. Sometimes family has simply been one player in a social conspiracy which has written a gendered script which waits to be torn up. Dethroning such gods brings trauma for all concerned; it means giving up what has been ‘one’s own life’ in order to find oneself (and find others).
Radical change of this kind (for it, too, is what is meant by ‘repentance’) is not left in a vacuum, but directional. It has a direction, a goal, a God. That God is a god of journey and that goal can mean the way of suffering. ‘Taking up the cross’ might allude to the dedication shown by revolutionaries prepared to die for their cause. Set in the Christian story the expression finds its exposition in the life and death of Jesus. It is not a call to fanaticism with narrowed vision riding roughshod over people for its cause, but a radical inclusiveness prepared to stand up and be counted and face the consequences.
"Hating" family and "denying" self are closely related. Ultimately Jesus' appeal is not to ignore people's interest but to appeal to them. You want real profit? You want real life? Then follow me. This means abandoning those constructions of yourself which pit you against others to your advantage. Applied to family, this equally demands abandoning family constructions which are destructive and unhealthy and embracing constructions of oneself and one's family which affirm life and hope and love.
After these two striking sayings Luke brings two stories which we might subsume under ‘strategic planning’. The call of the gospel invites people to think hard about what they are doing, using as much common sense as a builder or as a king preparing for battle. Notice the shame culture at work: people will say he began but could not complete his tower. The motivation given in the illustrations is not the main point. The point is that in such situations people need to know what they are doing. Luke draws it together with Jesus’ words: ‘So then any of you who does not take leave of all your possessions cannot be my disciple.’
It is as much about letting go of possessions as letting go of being possessed by them. Jesus regularly associated family power with possession power, because both belonged together. One of the reasons for family power was protection of possessions. Letting go of being possessed does often mean letting go of possessing others. How many spouses have found this so in what might at first have seemed abandonment. One act of liberation creates other acts of liberation or can do. For some the thought of no longer being possessed is so scary that any such talk sends anxieties through the roof and may evoke violent responses.
The call to discipleship is not an ancient form of ‘doing your own thing’ or finding true happiness in spontaneous self fulfilment adrift of all others’ claims and free of care. On the contrary it is a call to be on the journey, which in Luke’s gospel has been symbolically underway since 9:51 and will lead to Jerusalem. It cannot compete with the ‘feel good’ philosophies of modern or ancient times. It is an invitation to engagement in radically inclusive love, living from the life of the God of love, and living in solidarity with all who share that love. So it’s not just about me; it’s about us and it’s about them. Ultimately it is also about family, but from a radically different perspective which turns much of what goes for family love upside down and meets family as persons with the distance and intimacy which is appropriate, undeified and dedemonised.
Epistle: Pentecost 15: 5 September Philemon 1-21
Pentecost 14: 29 August Luke 14:1,7-14
So Jesus eats with leading Pharisees?! Not just with toll collectors and sinners. To imagine this we must assume that Jesus must have given the impression that he was an acceptable guest, ie. that he observed Torah strictly. Either Luke is making something up here or he is reflecting what was likely to have been the case: Jesus’ greatest conflicts were with those closest to him: the Pharisees. Why? Probably because they felt betrayed by his behaviour. He was observant of Torah but in a radically different way. Still, at least Luke believed his manner of observance still made him acceptable to some leading Pharisees. 14:2-6, the verses omitted from today’s reading, illustrate the conflict. It was not about whether to obey Torah, but about how to set the priorities. The argument assumes common ground.
When we move to 14:7, we are confronted by another ‘law’. It is not written law, but rather cultural law and was widely held. It belonged in that all important arena of meals. Meals are too easily obtained by most of us for us to appreciate their major role in the ancient world. Group meals, whether wedding banquets (in 14:8 the word need not mean a wedding banquet in particular) or communal meals, were an important community event. Jesus is present at such a meal, according to Luke, when he makes these comments. Some groups gave their meals such significance that they became representative of their life and identity. This was obviously so in the earliest Christian communities where the eucharist had its setting in a group meal. It was also true for many other groups, religious or otherwise.
Among the ‘rules’ for common meals of this kind we often find correct order of seating. There is a place for the most important and the least important and everyone in between. Some groups made a special point of reviewing the pecking order of seating every year. Thus the people of the Dead Sea sect conducted a kind of annual performance review for such placements. In first century Palestine, reclining on one elbow beside a very low table, or on low couches, had become the established fashion. It was common in the Hellenistic world of the time. It is reflected in most meals mentioned in the gospels. Disciples reclining beside Jesus would have a special place. John’s gospel puts the disciple whom Jesus loved into such intimate proximity with Jesus. He lay down with his head close to Jesus’ chest according to John 13:23. Jesus had a corresponding position with God before the incarnation according to John 1:18.
We may smile at those people who always insist on sitting in the same pews or seats in church. But in the ancient world, place was guarded by most even more jealously. Society was strongly hierarchical. There was a place on the ladder. For many it was a matter of survival to make sure they either stayed where they were or climbed higher. Position was not just a matter of individual achievement. It was a community value. It was in some sense given by the group. Your value was inseparable from what others thought about you. Most to be feared was to lose your place, to be embarrassed, to be publicly humiliated by having to take a lower place. Losing face could not be shrugged off as easily as for many of us who have grown up in a strongly individualistic culture. Losing face was almost like losing one’s life.
Such is the setting for what appears at first as a bit of practical advice. Like many sages of the day, and like Proverbs 25:6, Jesus instructs the would be go-getter to avoid putting oneself in the position where a demotion might occur. It is better to play it safe and be shifted up a notch than the reverse. Indeed some interpreters leave it at that, so that Jesus is simply giving advice to go-getters. Perhaps Luke read it that way. Perhaps he connected 14:11 to the story. If you want to be exalted, humble yourself! It is a contradiction in terms, because such strategies usually result in a put on humility because the driver is self interest and personal success. Jesus may, by contrast, have been poking fun at the fashions of his day, holding it up to ridicule.
In Luke however the self interest continues unabated in 14:12-14. It is best to put people in your debt who cannot repay you, because then you will be repaid by God. What a nuisance if people square the ledger here! We help the poor and needy so that we can build up capital for our own future. These are disastrous developments. Where they are applied the needy are used and abused. It is spiritual capitalism at its worst.
Alternatively, Jesus’ words would be heard as totally absurd and are meant to heard that way. It was a crazy idea, designed to subvert the games being played. Try losing and see how much you win! If we hear these words like this and not as a serious strategy, which would reduce them to just a more creative way of exploiting others for your own good, then Jesus is subverting the whole enterprise which was driving his culture and its values. It has huge application for today.
Before we dismiss the literal understanding from our high moral ground, we (and those with whom we work) may benefit from re-examining the matter. People who claim to be acting in love without any self interest are frequently in a state of denial, so much so at times that they fail to recognise to control their self interest - to their own harm and that of others. The gospel is not an appeal to abandon self love, but to believe in being loved and loving and to engage in it fully in all directions, including towards ourselves. The invitation to love is an invitation to life, made from the premise that life’s greatest reward is to live in love and that to do so is to participate in God’s being and to best fulfil our own.
The lines of love - for God, for others, for oneself - need to converge. Destruction comes when any one element fails. Falsehood sells us the idea that our own best interests can only be served by denying the interests of others (and of God) or by exploiting them to our own ends, for this life or for the next. It teaches us we can win only by beating others. Whether in materialist mode or spiritual mode, it leads to exploitation and abuse. The answer is not the opposite: self hate or self neglect, because more often than not that ends in self deceit and destructive behaviour towards ourselves which also destroys others. Rather it is an inclusive love, all embracing, which is its own reward. The table at which we share celebrates a poured out life, even in brokenness, as the true source of nourishment and before which we can let go our anxieties and the hierarchies of power they create - easier said than done as our church history demonstrates.
These are potentially very dangerous texts - but full of blessing.
Epistle: Pentecost 14: 29 August Hebrews 13:1-8,15-16
Pentecost 13: 22 August Luke 13:10-17
This story recalls a number of others. Luke had found two such stories in Mark 2:23-28 and 3:1-6 and brings them in 6:1-5 and 6-11. Only the second was a healing. It, too, was in a synagogue. Luke also knew the healing of the man with paralysis in Mark 2:1-12. The story he brings here stands on its own and must have come to him from independent sources. The synagogue leader voices the objection we might surmise could have been raised in the other synagogue healing on the sabbath. Why couldn’t the woman have waited for another day? No one objects to healing. But why not do it on a work day?
Jesus’ reply points to the need to water animals on the sabbath. One could argue that that was necessary for survival. But the woman would have survived another day. She had been in this state for eighteen years! It is not a very good argument. In fact the real issue lies elsewhere. It is not about the finer points of what might be permissible. Jesus is not really playing the game of competing interpretations and when we think he is, he is not very successful. The counter is weak and off hand because Jesus’ understanding of the Law is quite different. His basic assumption is that God’s will (in the Law as elsewhere) is focused on people’s well being. Elsewhere he states: ‘The sabbath was made for people; not people for the sabbath’ (Mark 2:27).
He is not riding roughshod over the Law and replacing it with new ways. Later people like Paul saw that as the only option when pressed by the problems of expanding the faith into Gentile world. Not so Jesus, at least, not according to Luke and Luke is doubtless reflecting ancient sources which reflect the approach of the historical Jesus. Luke reports that Jesus said: ‘It is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for stroke of a letter of the Law to be dropped’ (16:17). Jesus upheld biblical law. His conflicts were over how to interpret it. But the issue was not argument about specific points, but about the underlying theology of the Law, of Scripture. Such conflicts still play themselves out today in such fundamental questions as: how do we approach the Bible?
The theology which informs Jesus’ attitude appears to be diametrically opposed to the theology reflected in the leader of the synagogue. Both would affirm that we must love God with the whole heart and soul and strength and that this needs to show itself in action. For the leader this meant: keeping the commandments. That made sense. Behind it is an image of God saying: I am God. I must be obeyed. I alone deserve your loyalty and service. That also makes sense. The outcome is: we seek to know what God’s commands entail, how they apply, and we keep them. Simple as that! Our devotion is reflected in the extent we take that challenge seriously. I could just as easily be describing what many Christians have seen and still see as the universal duty incumbent on all. Is it not also what Jesus himself would have said?
There is a subtle difference. It runs deeply into our assumptions and attitudes. What is God really like? What if God’s chief concern is not to be obeyed, but something else? What if God’s chief focus is love and care for people and for the creation? Then the focus moves from God’s commands to God’s people and world. It is as though God is telling us to get our priorities right. Commandments, rules, guidelines, traditions, laws, scriptures are also subordinate to that purpose: love. God’s focus is not self-aggrandisement as it is with so many who have power and wealth and want to keep it, but generosity and giving, restoration and healing, encouraging and renewing. When any of these means (commandments, laws, scriptures) cease to be seen in that light, they become ends and we find people in absurd conflicts about whether they help someone in need or obey God. When those become alternatives, something has gone terribly wrong, IF you believe God’s chief concern is caring concern for people.
This story is almost a parody of Jesus’ opponents. How absurd to object to someone being made well! How absurd to imagine God would be more worried about having the sabbath commandment protected than having people healed! We need to see that the story had that function: to contrast the two approaches. It is, in that sense, using stereotypes. It would be most inappropriate, in fact, directly offensive, if we were not to see this and to start caricaturing Jewish leaders and Judaism on the basis of this story.
The key issue is alive and well in Christian churches today. How we imagine God is directly related to how we imagine what it means to be a decent person. For many generations the most highly valued person was the one with greatest power, wealth, and, sometimes, knowledge. So people inevitably imagined God as being like that. God was then imagined to be as unapproachable and self obsessed as such people have been. The way to live was to try to get on with the people of influence. The same applied to God. Keep the commandments! Commandments are not to be questioned. They have absolute authority because they allegedly come from absolute authority. People tried to be like their god and, alas, all too often succeeded.
Jesus spent much of his ministry, it seems, in a struggle to portray a different way of imagining God which more matched the reality. God is not to be modelled on the aloof king and powerful father, but on the mother looking for a lost coin and the dad running down the road to meet a lost son. The facades of dignity are dropped in favour of affection and caring. It is a very different model of God and produces a very different way of handling human life and biblical tradition.
Both models represented in the story reflect deep devotion. Both in different ways protect some things that are valuable. Both are based on scripture. One is healing. So is the other, but healing is subordinate to other concerns.
We are left guessing about the healing process and the pathology. The story, however, aptly reflects a different kind of paralysis which is chronic in religious communities. This story and its exposition in community offers an opportunity for healing.
Pentecost 12: 15 August Luke 12:49-56
This is not a text one would choose for a sermon on ecumenism - or is it? ‘Harmony’ is one of those soft words which people sometimes use to plea for peace. The peace is often a shallow calm of suppressed fears and conflicts which are bound to emerge from under their marshmallow captivity. Orderliness and harmony were great Stoic themes. At worst it meant everyone in their place, an unchanged and unchanging status quo. For many people Christian peace is still seen as that kind of harmony, if not achievable outwardly, then at least achievable inwardly. The gospel then takes up its stall beside all the others offering serenity of life and ‘feel good’ spiritualities.
If there is a place for ‘harmony’ in the teaching of Jesus, it is about unity with God and what God is doing in the world and a sense of solidarity with those travelling that path. In Jesus’ conversation with the ambitious James and John in Mark 10:35-40 Jesus uses the image of baptism to speak of his death. Water, flood, was a disaster, just as a fire storm is a disaster. Jesus is walking into disaster and taking others with him. Matthew’s version of the Q saying spells it out less tactfully: Jesus has come not to bring peace but a sword (Luke has: ‘division’). While Mark sees Jesus entering the treacherous waters of that Jerusalem Passover, Luke directs our attention to family.
‘Peace at all costs’ has no place here. That kind of harmony gilds oppression with respectability and rewards wrong. Instead we face a full scale conflict, taken right into the heart of human formation: the family. The family is being dethroned from its absolute claims. It is not an invitation to the kind of fanaticism which dislocates sectarians from family and friends and all else for obsession with an unrelated cause. Rather this passion springs from the heart of the human condition. It is the passion for love, for change, for justice, for renewal. These are not the fanatical tenets of a cult, but the foundations of hope. So Jesus is confronting the gods of family and warning that this is very dangerous territory.
It was not that Jesus sought to subvert families as such. It was rather that he espoused a vision of God and God’s agenda for change which often stood in direct conflict with other absolute claims, like wealth, possessions, land, culture, religion and family. He appears to have deliberately encouraged some to dislocate by leaving behind the claims of their local communities, clan, and family. Like him they travelled with him as a kind of entourage of protest against the prevailing systems. But he also encouraged others who stayed where they were to put the kingdom first. Everything else has its place but falls into proper perspective when the ‘God part’ is taken care of. That is not a guarantee of peace and harmony, but an involvement in change which will have its own rewards. It will encounter resistance and rejection from the powerbrokers of the gods of family and tradition.
As Christians remembered and retold these sayings, they might have been consoled by the warnings as they reflected on their own painful experiences. Some may have used such predictions to rationalise their ineptitude at relationships. Nothing much has changed in this regard. There is a fascination, even a stimulus, which people can get from such pain. The real thing can so easily be twisted into another form of self indulgence.
The passage ends by talking about the weather, as conversations sometimes do when they run out of steam. This is not the case here. In its present context the exhortation focuses on looking for signs of danger of conflict. Perhaps originally the perspective was wider than this. Reading the signs of the times is a way of saying: recognising what is really going on and likely to happen. It is very much a prophetic role. Today it means helping people probe beneath the surface of events, to recognise the gods and hidden agenda which drives the world in which we live. The same caution about families applies to all other systems.
A passage like this provides an opportunity for reflection on centres of powerful influence in our local communities. What are these gods? We need to name them. For some they will still be in families. Liberation will come as they learn to say no to family authorities, whether in real life outside or in the real life of the mind. Grace invites us to stand on our own two feet, to say No, to grow up, to be born again. If you touch on this, be prepared to ensure there is support for those who dare such a change. It can be lonely and painful.
For others the gods run them in their workplace or across the counters of commerce or in the obsessions of advertising. Gods are always bigger than particular people. This is about more than addressing individual loyalties. Ultimately it is about the vision of justice and peace for all which we celebrate in the feast of the eucharist. The radical inclusiveness of that meal and that vision is a fellowship of sacrifice in which we nourish ourselves from a broken and poured out life. Perhaps the best commentary on today’s passage is, indeed, the breaking of the bread.
Epistle: Pentecost 12: 15 August Hebrews 11:29 - 12:2
Pentecost 11: 8 August Luke 12:32-40
We should probably begin this passage with the preceding verse, which speaks of seeking the kingdom and receiving what one had been anxious about. Certainly the opening verse sets the framework for what follows. God wants to give us the kingdom! That needs unpacking. It means God wants us to benefit from what will happen when God’s will finally triumphs. To long for the kingdom is to long for something which is promised and promising. Our ultimate hope then rests in God’s own being as one who wants to give. This is trust which sets us free.
It sets us free to deal with wealth creatively. 12:33 speaks of selling property and using the proceeds for others. Today this is complex, but the principle is simple. The complexity of our situation can be our camouflage for inaction. The reality is that we need to address the underlying possessive anxieties which our world has a way of escalating. When we do so, then we can be free to let our wealth go and use it (as wisely as our best caring strategies determine). This is both something which grace generates and something where the sequence is not automatic. Grace needs a shove because the sophisticated rationalisations for selfishness create heavy drag.
There is something liberating in the honesty of the passage. There is no pretending here that we cease caring about ourselves. The passage even uses monetary metaphors to make the point. Go for wealth that will pay dividends. Go for purses that will not wear thin and lose your money. In other words, the sayings challenge people to act in their own best interests and within the framework of the gospel that means to merge inseparably together: love of self, love of others and love of God. So much Christian talk in this area is denial if not dishonest, when it implies that in choosing this way we are somehow not acting in our own interests. The trouble with such approaches is that the denied self-interest then takes the liberty to run wild and sometimes out of control creating havoc. Such selfless people become unaware through such denial that their self-centredness distorts their lives surreptitiously.
There is, nevertheless, the equally serious danger that these words are not connected to the wider context of the gospel and that Christian faith becomes only self-interest with all else, including love for God and neighbour, just a means to the end of gaining the reward. It is a very marketable approach but denies the heart of the gospel.
The verses 35-40 may sound like a confused merging of the parable of the girls in Matthew 25, warnings about returning householders in Mark 13, burglars and Jesus' washing his disciples’ feet. More likely it reflects an earlier stage of such traditions. The wedding image was commonly used to picture the coming of the kingdom. It is an image of celebration and feasting, doubtless reflecting its central place as an event of celebration in every day life. The feasting image also stands behind the symbolic meals of special groups who yearned for God’s justice to triumph, not least those of the Jesus movement who met over what we now call the eucharistic feast. ‘Your kingdom come’ takes on these contours. So this is the same as the gift of the kingdom in 12:32 and the treasury of hope in 12:22-24.
The wedding reached its climax with the husband bringing his wife home. The household slaves would need to stay up waiting for whenever the party would come. Parents may connect this with waiting up for their teenage children to come home! But it is really all part of the celebration. The imagery should not be pressed too hard, but it is unmistakably filled with expectation and joy, even if it is being described within the hierarchical framework of the ancient household of slaves. Joy is central. What gives us joy? That is where Luke wants us to locate our spirituality.
Notice the extraordinary behaviour of the bridegroom. He will come and serve the slaves as if they are the masters and he, their slave. This may refer to an unknown tradition linked with the ceremony. We do not know. Certainly it fits the image of the kingdom as Jesus develops the image. For the kingdom is not about power and control but about compassion. Though I am not convinced that the author of John’s gospel knew this passage, the image of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet which we find in John 13 certainly belongs in the same ball park. It is this kind of kingdom - where love and caring rules.
12:39-40 look at the other side of the coin. At one level it functions as a warning to be alert and ready for the coming of the Son of Man, which even Luke contemplated as likely to happen at any time. 2000 years later it is hard to pump up the readiness argument in the same way. But alertness is just as urgent in other ways. Our problem is not the occasional break in, but the constant infiltration of those values which burgle the gospel and besiege the believer with alternative value systems designed to sustain profit for the well off. Our task is more like needing to be alert for the occasional apostle of justice and humanity, to offer them hospitality and support in a world where all the subtle and not so subtle messages are calling for more of the same, more for us and less for them.
Epistle: Pentecost 11: 8 August Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16
Pentecost 10: 1 August Luke 12:13-21
The passage begins with the exchange about inheritance which serves as an introduction to Jesus’ warnings about greed (12:13-15). We might imagine that the reasons for attacking greed are because it deprives others. These are reasons enough. Here, however, the focus is what makes for a meaningful life. What is abundance in life?
The parable (12:16-21) continues the theme from a slightly different angle. Again the focus is not on depriving others, but on the behaviour of greed and its consequences for the person. It is attacking an assumption that storing up resources is a guarantee of life into the future. It states the well known reality: death can come at any time. What are all those resources worth then? You cannot take them with you to the grave. It is at one level straightforward secular wisdom with God as the tutor, as it were. There is nothing about judgement in the life to come, reward or punishment. We find that in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, but not here.
This secular wisdom has many parallels in literature of the time. Such advice frequently takes the form of recommending a lifestyle which is comfortable and not constantly stressed by wanting more and more. It seems sensible. Why die of a heart attack, work all hours of the day and night, only to find oneself burnt out? It is too late then to have time for the children. They have grown up and flown the nest. At most you may have energy for the grandchildren, but your life has left you very limited in what you can do and give if, that is, you have not already succumbed. This kind of madness plagues our society. For ourselves and for others we need to take control of the options and not be caught up blindly into the rat race of success and profit.
Much of the above needs to be said over and over again. It is all true, but it is not all the truth. Our society may be harmed just as much by people withdrawn into self-satisfying low stress lifestyles as it is by those driven by the pursuit of gain. Yet it may seem almost offensive that the discussion leaves out of account those who suffer as a result of greed and has God only at the margins of the story. This focus returns somewhat in the closing declaration that the man was ‘not rich towards God’.
‘Rich towards God’ could mean having credit in one’s God account which will pay off any misdemeanours and ensure a place in the divine rest home. More likely it means living the kind of life which God values whether there is reward in or not – or which is its own reward. The passage assumes that ‘life’ (12:15) and ‘being rich towards God’ (12:21) coincide. If we listen to the passage in the context of the whole story, it is clear that ‘life’ means God’s life, sharing God’s life, being what we were made to be. When the lawyer asked about ‘eternal life’ and pressed the point he heard a parable about a Samaritan. Such life is life towards God because it is life lived in the spirit of God. It is breathing the life breathed into mud model of human existence in the beginning.
Or is ‘life’ to be equated with happiness? Western society abounds with seductive invitations to happy lifestyle, usually promoting new products and promising that ‘good feeling’. Markets manipulate the modes so that regular dissatisfactions can be exploited as people just must have the latest. For some the problem is blindly building bigger barns. For others it is building bigger wardrobes, possessing fancier gadgets, sporting flashier cars.
It is easy to miss the point by focusing on the extremes. There is a deep human anxiety about being worthwhile which reaches to the heart of the self. Many products are designed to sedate that fear. It is nevertheless real. The Christian claim that true contentment comes only in service is probably spurious. It is simply not the case that people without Christ are all very unhappy and vice versa. It is also not the case that we are to make ourselves happy through service. That is secular justification by works and becomes a tyrant for us and those around us - and those whom we ‘serve’. Sometimes it has to be a kind of Christian defiance which says: only in life towards God, a life participating in God’s life is peace. That will be a peace that weeps, knows anguish, sometimes does not know and does not have answers, but keeps believing in the worth God wants us to have and wants us to give and live towards others.
‘Is my life worthwhile?’ is for many a fearful question. It is no answer to moralise and command. Ultimately the answer is an act of healing. People need preaching which identifies the pain very clearly - and gently - and offers healing.
Epistle: Pentecost 10: 1 August Colossians 3:1-11
Pentecost 9: 25 July Luke 11:1-13
In today’s passage we have the shorter and probably earlier form of the Lord’s Prayer. Luke brings it in a context which teaches about prayer. It is just as much also teaching about God.
This is already the case in the simple way with which the Lord’s prayer begins: ‘Father’. Jesus was one of those who gave the formal designation of God as the great father in heaven and creator a familiar tone: ‘father’. Elsewhere we find traces of the common family term: ‘abba’. It is not baby talk, but it does reflect the kind of intimacy one might expect in a family. It assumes a parent who is not remote but accessible, not violent and overbearing, but supportive and caring. As verses 11-13 suggest, this is the kind of parent who is responsive. That is also the point of verses 9-10.
The kind of supportive relationship Jesus has with the Father is not exclusive, but rather a model of the relationship which all can have. That is made possible because of the kind of God God is. This is a theme repeated elsewhere, not least in the image of the father in the parable of the prodigal son. Compassion and caring are central.
Jesus would have known about abusive fathers, just as he knew about abusive rulers. He used the ambiguous images of king and father because they were part of the tradition in which he was nourished. He engaged that tradition critically, subverting its violence and asserting its love. The ambiguity of the traditional images of king and father has been reflected in the very diverse consequences which they have spawned throughout history. Interpreters of the tradition in every generation have a responsibility to engage these images critically, helping people perceive where they bring life and where they bring death. This ambiguity needs to be named, not least because among our hearers are many, both women and men, for whom the image of father is almost irrecoverably destructive.
Hallowing means respecting, treating as holy. This is fundamental to our relationship with God and to all other relationships. Acknowledging the holiness, the dignity, the otherness of the other, must not be reduced to a metaphor of cringing before one who is more powerful, even if that is dressed up respectably as obeisance before the almighty. For then it reinforces the assumption that might is right and the bigger and stronger is the better. Such thinking often results in abusive relationships. Parents emulate their god. People emulate their god. The victims are disempowered. There is, however, an awe in relationships which flows from profound respect and love. It is often when we are standing on our feet face-to-face or bowed, not the one before the other, but together in service and mutual care.
‘Your kingdom come’ remains in the realm of the same ambiguity and has been equally a source of life and death. Our eucharist remembers the image of that kingdom as a great feast where all are included, from east and west and north and south, where swords become ploughs, spears become pruning hooks. It is also a feast focused on a life broken and poured out in compassion. This is one of the central images and actions which has the capacity to control the ambiguity, if we make the connections. But even it is capable of subversion until it becomes a feast of exclusion and a trivialised appendage for people claiming privilege.
Day by day human need has a firm place in Jesus’ prayer. There can be no separation between visions and life here and now. The same need for food and forgiveness is fundamental to every human being. That is why it is also part of the vision of the kingdom. As the prayer continues, Jesus has no shame in abandoning the ideal of the hero; instead we are to pray not to have to face the hard times. This will be as much personal as it is linked with the adversity we are likely to face if we take the kingdom vision as our agenda and engage in all our relationships on the basis that the other is holy.
Embraced within the teaching about the Lord’s prayer in 11:1-4 and the assurances of being heard in 11:9-13 is a very down-to-earth parable in 11:5-8. As recent passages have highlighted, hospitality was of major importance in the ancient world. What happens when a friend arrives unexpectedly? There could be no question that hospitality would be expected and would be given. Even among friends it would be irksome to be woken in the night to be asked to help with some of tomorrow’s fresh bread. We might imagine that in a small Palestinian house a disruption would be quite major. The household would be disturbed, the secure gate would be unlocked. It is made to sound quite onerous and probably was. It was stretching friendship a bit far! But Jesus is realistic. The social pressure on people to respond to the requirements of hospitality was so great and the shame so great for all concerned when it was not provided, that the poor fellow would get up and respond to the request.
It is typical of Jesus to argue theology by using the paradigms (parables) of everyday life. It is a kind of theology of reasonableness. The argument works like this: ‘everyone knows’ that a friend will help another out in a situation like that, even if reluctantly. Why can’t you think of God being like that? The same logic is implicit in the parable of the prodigal son. ‘Everyone knows’ that this is what a father would (want to) do (even though it was in that case contrary to behavioural norms for a dignified father). Everyone knows something about compassion: why can’t you think about God like that?
It is a kind of secular theology in the sense that the argument is not from the great biblical tradition, citing the epics or the law. Instead it stands in the tradition of sages who employ the everyday to do theology, also rooted in biblical tradition. We should not imagine that Jesus played the one off against the other. Clearly his theology is informed by the great tradition, but it is also grounded in perceptions about human life and human relationships. The tradition has a way of being hijacked by the articulate and educated, and then employed in ways which reflect their agenda. That agenda is usually about holding onto power and privilege and creates a theology of God in those terms: the most powerful and therefore the most privileged. That easily becomes the basis for hierarchical control.
Instead, Jesus democratises the basis for doing theology, locating it in the human relations which we all know and experience, and where we all have some basic insight and understanding, whether we can articulate it in abstract or not. Do we know what it is like to love and be loved? Then we are well on the way to a sound theology. What is more, it is a sound basis for critical theology where you can then see through ‘father’ and ‘king’ or ‘kingdom’ to the qualities they are meant to represent and which they often stifle. God is not a ‘father’ and a ‘king’. God is not a male. God is not a claimer of privilege. God is like the mum or dad who really cares (and confronts us with reality), who is holy and makes you feel holy. So prayer is an activity of intimacy and awe and thus a model for all relationships; it is the language of the kingdom. It brings the gift of the Spirit.
Epistle: Pentecost 9: 25 July Colossians 2:6-15 (16-19)
Pentecost 8: 18 July Luke 10:38-42
This passage is wildly ambiguous. Is it giving Mary a male role and otherwise deprecating women’s work, represented in Martha? Is it lauding Mary the submissive female and dismissing the caring Martha? Is it praising impracticality? Is it feminist in orientation, making space for Mary beyond women’s traditional roles? Or is it the opposite?
The first step is surely to try to sense what it is saying and doing in Luke’s narrative. Notice that Martha appears to run the household. She is the one who offers hospitality (10:38). This is a positive role. Hospitality was important. Earlier in the chapter we saw that it played a vital role for the envoys of Jesus, as for Jesus, himself. So we are among the faithful.
Then quite suddenly Luke introduces her sister, Mary, describing her as sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening to what he was saying. This might seem odd to some, especially if they are of the view that such a posture is that of the disciple and that normally disciples of great teachers were male. It would make quite a difference to the interpretation because the underlying issue between the women would be whether one should be allowed to assume what was traditionally a male posture and role or not. Jesus would be defending the rights of Mary to be equally present with men and break free from stereotyped female roles. We shall return to this thought.
Whoever it might be, whatever the gender, Luke assumes that the most important response of the host is to receive Jesus’ word. Martha’s behaviour as host (I use the word in a genderless sense rather than use ‘hostess’ because of its ambiguity) is problematic. It appears that it is seen as problematic primarily because of the manner of Martha’s activity: she is fussing around. Luke uses three different words which depict her behaviour as being distracted, worrying and bothering. Luke does not appear to be attacking the practical roles which belong to being a good host, but the preoccupation with them. The fact that they are traditionally female roles may be irrelevant for the story.
Luke’s story is making a point about attitudes, which can be just as well male as female. It is when practical tasks assume dimensions which subvert best intentions. Being too worried about the arrangements may subvert the purpose of the visit. It is a close cousin to bureaucracy and legalism: being so worried about doing the right thing that what really needs to be done, is left undone or is done poorly. Martha might end up never hearing Jesus’ word.
There are many variants: they include; being so obsessed with the task of producing a new church building that the mission it is meant to service is left undone or given second place; being so worried about the form of the sermon that its real function is forgotten; being so preoccupied with keeping the commandments and remaining good, that no real good is achieved or done.
It would be silly to make the story into a model for behaviour, let alone for women’s behaviour! The story deserves the hearty protest it receives from all those practical people who know that someone has to cook the meal, make up the beds, make sure everything is adequately prepared, when it is understood in this way.
One might imagine that it came to Luke as an anecdote that people used to address a common problem in house churches (the only kind of churches there were!). The common problem would be about hospitality when the local church met in someone’s home. The story may go back earlier to when envoys (apostles) would arrive and could, as Luke reports, even have its origin in Jesus’ own ministry. It is not difficult to imagine the problem. Traditional values would have placed a heavy expectation on the woman of the house. Conflict might easily arise between those in a household who felt it their task to look after the practicalities and those who chose to participate fully in the community. The story is realistic: it would have been acute among family members.
The highest priority must be to listen to the word. The anecdote makes that plain. Martha is gently but firmly being told that she has got it wrong. How frustrating and offensive! She was doing the work, the practical caring and in the process giving herself fully to the task - which is then interpreted as fussing around. Poor Martha! It is time for Martha to go on strike!
In fact, it is time for Martha to go on strike. For part of the message of the word is that everyone is to be included and no one is to be left aside trapped in a role which prevents them from participation. Martha is being encouraged to abandon a role in which she is being held captive to serve the needs of others. She is being challenged to leave behind the stance which says, ‘If I don’t do it, no one else will!’. She doesn’t have to ‘play mother’. As long as she does, some people are not likely to grow up and she will be likely to carry a resentful sense of fulfilment. Not until she abandons that role will the community be challenged to take seriously that caring belongs to all and is not to be shunted off onto one particular person and usually one particular gender.
Some marriages only experience renewal when the women strike and the men are challenged to recognise the inequality that often exists in assumed roles. This is frequently acute when both spouses work and one is still expected to carry the traditional role unquestioned.
Such a story would potentially be liberating. Whether a male posture or not - probably not - Mary (and Martha) are invited to sit as equals at Jesus’ feet with all the rest. So let them all sit down with the gospel and on the same level reflect on what response to this word means in action at home and in the community and who can best exercise their gifts and where!
This story is nevertheless annoying, especially for people who are comfortable with established patterns and roles. They will hear it as pious impracticality and sometimes as an assault on what they value and what values them. I am sure someone cooked, prepared the table, served the bread and wine and the rest of the food, washed the dishes and cleaned up afterward. The extent to which the gospel had set them free would be reflected in the extent to which all owned these responsibilities and mutually decided who would do what. They would surely also have known the experience of finding that the gospel could easily be banished from practicalities and the same old people left to do all the work. The story is not told to punish these Marthas, though it is often used that way. In fact it heads in the opposite direction. Martha’s traditional roles are now thrown open for all and embraced in the word. The one who speaks will, a later gospel tells us, also wash the disciples’ feet.
Epistle: Pentecost 8: 18 July Colossians 1:15-28
Pentecost 7: 11 July Luke 10:25-37
The initial conversation has a familiar ring to it. It is probably a reworking of the episode found in Mark12:28-31, where the scribe asked which was the first commandment. Here it is an expert in the Law who asks the question. This means much the same as scribe, another term for describing such experts. The question he asks is different, but it is also familiar to us from Mark 10:17-21. It is the question of the rich man: ‘What must I do to inherit eternal life?’ The rich man in Luke also asks the same question (Luke 18:18).
The issue is fundamental: how do we inherit eternal life? ‘Inherit’ assumes inheritance, promise. It builds on the view that God wants us to have this life. It draws on the expectations raised by Jewish scripture. ‘Eternal life’ includes everlasting life, but its focus is quality rather than quantity. It is sharing in God’s life. This is the number one question and still is.
Jesus directs the man’s attention to the Law, Torah. This is not in order to declare it inadequate or obsolete. On the contrary, here, as in the encounter with the rich man in Luke 18:18-23, Jesus directs attention to scripture as the source of the answer to the man’s question. In Mark’s version of the story, Jesus, himself, cites both the first and the second greatest commandments. In Luke the man, himself, cites them. In the process Luke has merged the two into one as one single requirement. The two belong inextricably together.
Jesus affirms that to love God and to love one’s neighbour is indeed the correct answer. ‘Do this,’ he declares, ‘and you shall live’ (10:28). These words find their echo at the end of our passage in 10:37, ‘Go and do likewise.’ Doing this commandment is the way to eternal life.
This deserves further reflection. In some traditions this would be given low marks or even marked wrong. It sound too much like salvation by works. ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved’ (Acts 17:31) sounds much more Christian. Jesus’ answer here and in the encounter with the rich man is just good Judaism. Yet before we take Jesus off to enrol him in a course on appropriate evangelism, is there not something of fundamental importance here? Is it not the case that the relationship with God matters most? Jesus is not espousing that we keep the commandments as some kind of tit for tat, a deal on the basis of which we can claim something. He is talking about loving God and neighbour - actually doing it. His own status in the process is subordinate to that goal.
This raises a larger issue. What is the relation between the two commandments? In many religious communities, including Christian communities, there is a real tension between the two. ‘I want to care, but my prior loyalty must be to uphold what I believe.’ Or at worst: my devotion to Christ leads me to behaviour that is destructive for others. People devoutly committed to a god are often a cause of much evil in the world. History demonstrates that. Current problems on the international scene demonstrate it. Our experience in dealing with people’s pastoral problems has probably illustrated it as well. Do I love God or do I love my neighbour?
To resolve the dichotomy by explaining that I love my neighbour as part of loving God because God commands it is an unstable solution. It makes love for neighbour secondary and invites the possibility that when I love my neighbour I am not really doing so; I am really loving God. At worst I am keeping on good terms with God at the expense of loving my neighbour (and then often at my neighbour’s expense!).
The pieces come together differently when we think differently about God. If God is to be thought of as the projection of those human value systems which see power and control as primary, and which see the ideal life as one of ultimate self importance and adulation from others, then the problem is already in our theology, because such values are in conflict with love for neighbour. Unfortunately the language of worship too often reflects such values, despite our efforts to explain that the language of kingship and court deference is metaphorical. Where however our theology has an image of God whose being is loving and whose life is the creative and redeeming out pouring of such love, then loving one’s neighbour is not a secondary obligation ‘which the king requires’, but an invitation to participate in the life and being of God.
Luke was probably responsible for expanding the dialogue by having Jesus tell the famous parable about the Samaritan. It is profoundly theological in the sense which we have outlined above. The priest and Levite appear as those for whom the two commandments are so far apart that the first blocks the second commandment. This would be so if purity concerns were their motivation for neglect. It would be so in a different sense if they were just apathetic. Jesus’ story reflects criticism of the theological stance of the temple functionaries. Today we might want to ask about the system. We know how structures can so exhaust people that they end up failing at the most basic level of what was the original inspiration of the system. Jesus is also being typically subversive in having a despised Samaritan play the God role.
Luke takes up this subversive piece of theology in order to deal with the lawyer’s question: ‘Who is my neighbour?’ Are there limits? Is it to include only the people of my community, of Israel? Might it also include undesirables, Samaritans, Gentiles? Does it include women, people with disabilities, lepers and others frequently excluded? Ultimately it is a theological question: whom does God love? Luke has Jesus tell the parable and then neatly reverse the question: Who proved to be neighbour to the man who was beaten up (10:36)? This does two things: it makes us realise that in human community every human person is a neighbour and potentially a caring human being; and it breaks down the hierarchy of helper and helped.
But what about the bandits? Societies where there is oppression produce bandits. Societies which seek to bring dignity to all are less likely to produce bandits. The message of the kingdom was about a transformed society, but also about one that was liberated from structures which oppressed. This individual encounter belongs in that public arena if it is not to be trivialised into an exhortation to care just for individuals. Affirming one God is affirming that no aspect of reality is to be ignored; in all of life, in individuals, in community, in structure and organisation (not least, religious organisation), in creation God is God and God is love and God invites us to participate in and become God’s action in the world.
Epistle: Pentecost 7: 11 July Colossians 1:1-14
Pentecost 6: 4 July Luke 10:1-11, 16-20
Luke has already reported the sending out of the 12 in 9:1-6. There he is following Mark 6:7-13. Now in Luke 10 he is bringing similar material, this time drawing on Q, the source he shares with Matthew. Matthew chose to merge the two traditions together in 10:1-16. Luke retains the two separate reports. Last week we had the passage where Jesus sent messengers ahead of him into a Samaritan town which rejected him (9:52-53). That is barely 10 verses back when Jesus is pictured here sending out people again into every town and place he was going to visit (10:1). That is Luke’s way of linking this tradition to the great journey to Jerusalem. But when we look at the material in 10:1-12, it is not really about preparing people for the visit of Jesus, but rather about the mission of the disciples. Perhaps the figure 70 suggests the mission to the world of the 70 nations, but Luke does not see that happening until well after Easter.
The idea of mission is present in the image of the harvest. Harvest can be a positive and a negative image. John the Baptist is reported to have used the grain harvest to speak of judgement: burning up the chaff after saving the wheat. The idea of gathering in the harvest belongs to the expectation that when God’s reign is to begin, there will be a gathering of all God’s people for the new beginning. Many will come from east and west and north and south and feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of God (Luke 13:28-29; Matt 8:11-12). Sometimes it also included the hope that the Gentiles would also come, like birds coming to make their nests under shrubs of mustard bush. Jesus told other parables about harvest, the best known being the parable of the sower, expressing a defiant optimism about what God would do, despite the apparent failure of so much seed to take root.
The early Christians saw themselves participating in this great climax of hope. Paul appears to have developed his strategy of visiting the cities of the world (of his time) and bringing an offering from the Gentiles to Jerusalem against this expectation. His apostleship was playing a role in the divine plan of bringing in the Gentiles. Q preserved the instructions which were to guide such endeavours, probably developed at a very early stage in the church’s life, if not already during Jesus’ ministry. It is important to imagine our way back into their setting, before we consider our own setting and the possible connections.
It is very likely that Jesus instructed his disciples to emulate his own pattern of activity. That entailed travel. He would come to a town or settlement, then would need to find a place to sleep and be looked after. The pattern he sets out for the disciples insists that they travel as poor people, but, unlike the wandering Cynic teachers of his day, not even to carry a begging bag. Instead they were to come only with who they were and await local response. Larger Palestinian houses were such that you could freely enter the front half of the house from outside - it was public space. These disciples would then face the owners with the choice of being part of the kingdom movement by offering hospitality and enjoying its benefits through healing and teaching or of turning away these uninvited would-be guests.
The ancient world had strong customs about hospitality. The mission used these. The result was quite confronting: you either welcomed these people or you turned them away. It was accepted that enemies should not be offered hospitality, but were these enemies or friends? They claimed to be envoys of peace and wholeness, including healing. They claimed to be announcing the reign of God and by their actions, bringing its reality into life in the here and now. To receive them was to receive the one who sent them and to receive him was to receive God, to be open to the kingdom. To reject someone who is not an enemy, to refuse to offer hospitality, was shameful. It brought disgrace and promised misfortune. That is the expectation here, too. Reject these messengers and you reject Jesus; reject Jesus and you reject God; reject God and you invite judgement. Shaking dust off the feet is probably symbolic of such judgement.
This was a deliberate strategy. The alternative of dropping in on friends on the way to say, ‘Hello’, was forbidden. It would have thwarted the plan. The approach was quite confrontational. The verses left out, 10:12-15, illustrate the severity of the threat. Notice that Sodom is mentioned in 10:12. Its notoriety was not homosexuality, as later generations made it, but failure to offer hospitality.
The action plan of the disciples and doubtless of Jesus, himself, made hospitality central, especially the shared meal. The response of faith was about willingness to share food, to be together in mutual acceptance and fellowship at a meal. This was also a central symbol of hope. In their radical way Jesus and his disciples after him were precipitating hope in meals in the here and now. These became celebrations of hope, but also of inclusion and healing.
When the disciples return, they have got a buzz from their successes. Using apocalyptic imagery, Jesus shifts their focus to the heavenly book of life in which their names are written. This is symbolic way of saying: what matters most is the close relationship you have with God which is its own reward beyond all the successes - because with it you can also live through the failures which inevitably come. He also speaks of Satan falling from heaven, another apocalyptic image used to depict the dethroning of the serpent or dragon at the end of time. Hope comes to fulfilment now when people are liberated from the powers that oppress them.
It is a long way from this strategy of mission to our modern day. The architecture of houses in most societies does not lend themselves to this plan. But I wonder if the invitation to join the movement of God’s kingdom does not sometimes work like this. It is not about selling a brand name (‘Christian’), but sharing a vision of change in such a way that means real participation in making it real in the here and now. I suspect that there are many times that a fellowship of solidarity in commitment and work for change has been created when people who love because of the influence of Jesus, join others who love. People who really care recognise others who really care.
Households (half public communities in themselves) committed to caring in the name of Jesus became church communities. The travellers became ‘apostles’ (envoys), the link people. Link people and locals were a loose movement for change, people for the poor, people convinced they were participating in God’s initiative to bring hope. It was all about being bearers of this hope. As the movement grew the link people spawned local leadership patterns, which evolved into structures for order, now reflected in formal orders of ministry. They were never meant to be above the locals, but rather to engage them in the same mission. Their lifestyle was a statement against prevailing values, a kind of protest which defied the normalcy which insisted people remained bound to their locality, family and station in life and treated it as their reward. The strangeness of these early patterns may be accounted for by the vast chasm of time and culture; it may, however, reflect a high level of estrangement on our part from the values which drove them.
Epistle: Pentecost 6: 4 July Galatians 6:(1-6) 7-16
Pentecost 5: 27 June Luke 9:51-62
At this point in his gospel Luke has been reworking Mark’s gospel and has reached Mark 10:1, where Mark tells us that Jesus set off for Judea. One chapter later in Mark Jesus enters Jerusalem and the temple. Not so in Luke. Ten chapters later Jesus reaches Jerusalem! Luke does not return to Mark until he reaches 18:14. In between Luke brings a wide range of stories and sayings not found in Mark, but either shared with Matthew (so from Q) or from his own unique sources. Together they become teaching which Jesus gives on the journey. They are also like teaching for the journey upon which all disciples embark.
Our passage deals with the beginning of the journey, especially the call to discipleship and what it means. But first Jesus must make his way through Samaria. Given the mutual hostility, it is credible that in some Samaritan villages Jews would not be welcome. Racism, whatever inspired it, catches up Jesus and his followers. Luke’s story also knows that Samaria was the territory of the northern kingdom of Israel, where Elijah and Elisha had been active. Its king, Ahaziah, had sent two sets of 50 men to arrest Elijah. Elijah had called down fire from heaven to destroy them (2 Kings 2:10,12). In the story James and John want Jesus to repeat the dose. Let’s stamp out racism! Let’s hate those who hate us! Jesus will have none of it.
It is an odd story. Is it being critical of Elijah’s act? This is less likely than that the author wants to show that Jesus is like Elijah but also someone more than Elijah. That theme will return in the following verses. Nevertheless violence is being set aside as a solution. Hating those who reject you is also a major religious theme, including a frame of reference for many in thinking about God and God’s future. The cycle of violence easily becomes a devout response. James and John loved Jesus. That was a problem - for them and others.
The next section has three encounters between Jesus and would be followers. Jesus did all the wrong things from a growth perspective. He was in danger of losing everyone if he carried on like that. Hanging alone on a cross is not success. ‘Son of Man’, the odd expression which the Greek foists upon us, means something like ‘the human being’ in Hebrew. So we have a contrast between this human being and the animals. ‘This human being’ seems closer to what is meant here. Jesus is speaking of himself. Daniel 7 also contrasts animals and one like a human being. Against that background, laced with political allusions, the saying of Jesus belongs in the context of the journey upon which he is embarked, a journey that will end on a cross - and then victory! It is the path of suffering which Jerusalem’s inhabitants knew when Antiochus Epiphanes crushed their spirits in 167 BCE and which only through the exploits of Judas Maccabeus carried them to deliverance and glory in 164BCE, the setting for the book of Daniel. To join Jesus is to join the march for freedom, the journey for liberation, the path through danger to hope.
The second encounter shocks our sensibilities and sounds like the counsel of fanaticism. It is extreme, it seems deliberately so. It makes us want to wheedle our way out of its embarrassment and embroider some hidden motives into the man’s request. Maybe his father was still alive? Hardly likely. Shock tactics can be offensive. This is doubtless meant to be offensive. It does not want to be explained and certainly not as a new way of treating parents. Its violence challenges family values with a higher claim of allegiance. It is not founding an institution or setting up a principle, but wresting control from cherished values so that we see another perspective. It asserts God, the reign of God, not as a manipulation of fanaticism, but as the highest value. Again, this is skewed if it is seen as a distraction from love by a self indulgent god, claiming rights to be adored. Then we are back with James and John's theology. Rather it can make sense as a call to radical compassion which may challenge all other calls to caring. Mostly it will generate all that caring in family which is so central, but love remains and sometimes it must break established priorities. Less dramatically, but just as relevant, people’s dedication to ‘family values’ frequently blinds them to real caring and at worst inspires hate and discrimination.
The first two encounters appear also in Matthew (8:19-22). The third encounter is unique to Luke and functions as a counter piece to the introductory story based on Elijah. For in 9:61-62 Luke is reminding us of Elijah’s call of Elisha (1 Kings 19:20). Elijah allowed Elisha to bid farewell to his folks. Not so Jesus! The image of the crooked furrow is graphic. A modern image might be what happens when people drive with their eyes glued to the rear vision mirror - the consequences are often more disastrous than crooked furrows.
Jesus is not driving a wedge between family and the kingdom of God, but he is indicating a conflict of interest. He often does so. Many people suffer because they need this kind of liberation, whether through external pressures or through internalised ones. Churches have often reinforced the values which have prevented people from growing up. It is not just a therapeutic issue for individuals - and that alone is worth a sermon about liberating grace and some exorcism. It is also what it does to our community and our world when local family values, systems and loyalties, even local racial and national loyalties, lead us to betray other people, usually those much worse off than ourselves. What are the shock tactics of today to free people from such seductions or simply to lift them beyond the limited horizons of their own legitimate caring? The point is not the tactics but the invitation to a new kind of journeying, a new way of setting one’s face for Jerusalem.