Dear Theophilus,
You paint a beautiful picture of
wealth. It challenges what I have
believed to be true, what the world believes to be true, and it must, at times,
feel as though you’re pushing a boulder uphill to convince the world that the
wealth you seek is superior to the wealth they seek. I can scarcely imagine trying to tell my
brothers that I am giving up the quest for financial security and going in
search of a lifestyle of serving and loving others. While I might be able to convince them that
this is a worthwhile decision, I doubt that I could ever help them believe that
I would be richer than they. I have
spent my life judging between the rich and the poor, associating a life of
wealth with large houses, many servants and rich, sumptuous feasts. The idea of sacrificing that for another is
foreign to me, but much of this conversation has been a revelation to me.
I appreciate the point that more
material belongings tend to bring along more worry, and that upon the event of
my death my belongings cease to matter, while these spiritual riches promise to
transcend death. That is a powerful
argument, but I wonder how to best convey it to a culture of people who are
focused on this life, the here and the now.
I shall think more on this, I can promise you that, friend. You have kicked over a hornet’s nest in my
mind, and their insistent buzzing keeps me awake deep into the night pondering
the life I am living and the values to which I ascribe. A wiser man may have made a decision by now,
but this is such a radical departure from all that I have ever known, I cannot
help but cling to the old when tempted by the new.
It’s funny to me to think of myself
as sitting on this proverbial fence debating this when I think of the latest
information I have received describing the next chapter in the teachings of
Jesus. He is telling the disciples to be
dressed and prepared for action with lamps lit, prepared for whatever is needed
as a servant would be when the master of the house returned from a wedding
feast. A slothful or indecisive servant
would need to crawl from their slumbers when the knock on the door came, while
prepared servants would be ready to fling the door open at the sound of the
first knock. These servants, Jesus says,
will be blessed. He goes on to say that
the master will invite them to sit at the table and be served by the master, a
situation that would surely be shocking to the servant! I am certain they would protest, but the very
idea of the master serving the servant upends all the expectations of the way
the world works.
Once again, Jesus throws a wrench
into how society is to think, and once again I am uncertain of what to do with
it! You, Theophilus, would tell me to
wise up and follow Jesus, and yet I sit on the edge of bed, not ready for
action but neither asleep, pondering the meaning of all it. If the knock on the door comes, what will my
reaction be? What will the master’s
reaction be? Is there even a
master? Or am I just chasing ghosts in
my mind? It all runs counter to the way
the world has always worked, and part of me is tempted to believe that Jesus
was simply out of his mind, but I cannot help but wonder, after so many letters
and such a thorough examination of the facts, that perhaps it is we, chasing
down the unattainable dream of security in a world ruled by chaos, who are out
of our minds and Jesus, promising security that cannot be wrenched from our
hands by thieves or stolen while we slumber by moths, who is the one with
everything together.
Jesus closes this particular section
with a warning, telling all that would hear that the thief comes when the owner
is unprepared—for if every owner knew when the thief would draw near, then they
would prevent the thief from success.
Jesus likens the case to the Son of Man, who will come at a time
unexpected. Disciples are to be
prepared. Theophilus, I hear this as a
warning to be prepared when Jesus comes, and yet he is teaching this as he
stands before them, a strange juxtaposition.
I suppose he is alluding to his return, or to a moment when each
individual will be called upon to testify to their preparedness, but it feels
strange to me that Jesus talks about his future appearances when he is present
at the time.
Peter, too, has a question for
Jesus. He asks Jesus if such a story
applies to everyone or only to the disciples.
Jesus goes on to paint a clear
picture of what is expected of those who follow Jesus. He does this by continuing the analogy of the
master and the servants, asking which servant will be put in charge, as a manger,
of the remaining servants, the one responsible for giving them food at the
right times. He uses the words faithful
and prudent, descriptors that we’d all like used for ourselves! Jesus offers these words for the one who is
working when the master arrives, something that is easy to do when one knows
exactly when the master will show up, but is much, much harder when the arrival
is unpredictable. The one who works
constantly will be elevated when the master arrives, while the one who gives up
hope that the master is coming and begins to drink to the point of drunkenness,
the one who begins to beat the other servants, will be found out when the
master comes and be placed with the unfaithful ones after being beaten and cut. Harsh penalties, I know, but when one knows
what is expected of him and fails to perform these duties, there are
ramifications. It would have been better
if the servant did not know the expectations—there would still be a beating,
Jesus says, but it would be a light beating.
There are high expectations for those with knowledge of the expectations
and the ability to meet them. The
demands are higher for those with many gifts than those with few.
I suppose, friend, that I would
have been like the servant who received a light beating before this exchange
began. I had nothing beyond cursory
knowledge of Jesus and his teachings, and while I sought to live a moral life,
there was little striving for the things that Jesus talks about. Now, however, being in possession of such
knowledge, I wonder what the reaction of the master would be upon his
return. Would he find me falling short
of expectations? Or would my inquiries
into a life of faith count in some small way?
I suppose I do not know, and cannot know, until the master returns, whenever
that will be. I have heard many
predictions about the end of the world, and none have come true quite yet, so I
suppose I am safe for another day. The
end may well be near, but I continue living for the moment, and I will continue
my search, trying to live a good life until it becomes clear that this life is
not good enough.
These waters are far deeper than
expected, Theophilus! I would have been
wise to prepare for such a plunge!
Sincerely,
Luke
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