Friday, April 5, 2013

Luke 17:1-10


Dear Theophilus,
That’s a chilling story you tell.  I picture these Pharisees hearing it and lingering over the sight of every beggar on their way back home, wondering if they would be crying out to the same soul from the despair of hell.  They probably pulled their purple linens out and stared at them, wondering if this was as good as life gets, if this was to be the consolation and joy to enjoy while punishment and suffering awaited them after death.  They must have hated Jesus even more after this, after he steals away their joy and confidence in their righteousness.  Their certainty must have been shaken, but rather than let it change them, I have no doubt they set out to eliminate Jesus, who kept causing all these problems in their way of life!
As for me, it gives me pause to think what the repercussions might be for the way I have lived on this earth.  I know that I have told you before that I believe myself to be a good person, and I cannot imagine God sentencing me to an eternal existence of suffering simply because I didn’t fulfill every opaque commandment or life perfectly.  I would have a hard time believing in a God like that.  It’s hard for me to even imagine that there is an existence beyond this life—there are graveyards full of bodies, and they don’t seem to be doing anywhere anytime soon.  Even if there is, what is the basis for judgment?  How bad would one’s life have to be to end up in heaven?  How sumptuous is enough to qualify one for suffering?  And is there no other judgment?  What role does faith play, and how much faith does one need?  Must one be perfect, or is there such thing as ‘good enough’?  It all seems rather curious and arbitrary to me.  I know that I will have the answers someday, but I’d prefer them while they might be useful, rather than discovering them all too late!
In the next teaching, Jesus acknowledges that there will be plenty of chances to make mistakes.  I know I have found most of them, and managed to choose poorly in many.  I wish I could say that my life was the pinnacle of resisting temptation, but that would be a lie, only compounding problems!  Jesus doesn’t say anything about the situations, but promises trouble to the one who brings them about.  In other words, while life will offer plenty of chances to wander astray, be sure that you don’t tempt another to stray from the path—Jesus says it would be better to be drowned in the sea, a heavy weight around your neck, then to be the cause of another man’s mistake.  That’s taking mistakes seriously! 
I appreciate this, though.  I don’t know how much respect I’d have for a faith that didn’t take our faults seriously.  Jesus warns us to be careful—he teaches the disciples to rebuke one another if they do sin, and in turn they must offer forgiveness if there is repentance.  But Jesus goes way farther than anyone I’ve ever heard of—he tells them that if someone sins seven times a day, they must be forgiven each and every time if they repent. 
Theophilus, this is way more than I would expect.  It’s not even reasonable!  If someone does the same thing to me seven times in a day, I’d be ready to tie that weight around their neck!  But here is Jesus, telling me to forgive them!  What kind of sense does that make?
The disciples, too, realized that they were in over their heads.  They asked Jesus to increase their faith, and Jesus replied in a curious manner.  This seems like a great thing to ask, but Jesus told them that faith the size of a mustard seed could command a mulberry tree to be torn up by the roots and thrown into the sea! 
I don’t know if you’ve seen a mustard seed, but it’s miniscule, ordinary and easily lost.  I read this as Jesus teaching us that the power of our faith lies not within us but within God, but it goes against so much of what I expect Jesus to say.  I would expect him to teach us how to have better faith, bigger faith, but he is teaching us how to have deeper and wiser faith. 
Jesus goes on to ask them a rhetorical question.  He asks them how they would treat a slave who comes in from working in the fields.  Jesus asks them whether they would invite him to be seated at the table or to order them to don an apron, prepare and serve them supper, telling them that their own supper may be enjoyed later.  Jesus indicates that any slave owner would expect the slave to do their tasks, and that the slave would not be thanked because they were doing the duties that were assigned to them.  If they perform what is expected of them, should that lead to excess gratitude?  Where I expected Jesus to teach them how to behave based on the master, instead he tells them that they are like the slaves—they are to do as they are commanded, and rather than expect gratitude, they should confess that they were only doing exactly what was expected of them. 
It’s a curious teaching, but I think Jesus is setting forth an expectation of how the disciples are to live.  It sounds like faith should affect daily life, that a decision to follow Christ should change the way one walks the path that wanders through house and home, through the community and workplace.  Theophilus, if I chose to follow Jesus, I’d expect it to have a big impact on me.  It’s hard for me to understand how anyone could explore the wealth of knowledge about Jesus, decide to become a disciple, and then live as though the decision had no impact.  I suppose it happens, and maybe it’s an indicator that the faith had shallow roots and never took hold of the heart, but it seems sad to this inquirer.  A decision of this magnitude should send ripples into everything it touches, and I hope that my sights are not set too high if I believe that Christianity, if deemed true, will forever change the path I wander and the way that I walk it.
Sincerely,
Luke


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