Levi (Matthew) , a former tax collector, is dumbfounded by Jesus words:

What?! I mean, WHAT?!

Did I really hear Jesus commending a man for fiddling the books and bribing his way into the good opinion of others in order to save his own skin?  That sounds both dishonest and despicable to me! Why on earth did Jesus think to make a parable out of this?  How can he expect us to see anything worth emulating or get anything good from what he was telling us?

Perhaps I misheard him?  But from the shocked expressions on the other’s faces, I don’t think I did.  Only Judas looked intrigued (I wonder why that was?).  The rest of us were totally bewildered.

So, perhaps I misunderstood him?  This must surely be the case, because what Jesus seems to be suggesting is so far out of character.  I can’t believe we are meant to take it at face value.  But it’s hard not to!  What else could he possibly mean? 

Is he really commending sharp practice to us?  When he called me to follow him, I was under no illusions about the dishonesty of the business world, and I walked away from it with relief.  I turned my back on all that scheming and chose a cleaner, better way – the way Jesus was showing me!  Is he now saying I was wrong? And is he now saying we can somehow buy our way into heaven?   Surely that’s the opposite of everything he’s been telling us so far! And who is this ‘Master’ he talks about, and why is he so impressed by his sacked employee’s scamming him?  Surely, he should be furious!  Unless he, too, is a crook?  You know, one conman admiring another’s hustle …  bowing to the one who manages to out-manoeuvre him as though it is all part of the game? And yet, surely, that is a game that Jesus of all people refuses to play!  So why commend it? I don’t get it!  I just don’t get it!

Or do I? 

The notion of the ’master’ in the story also being a crook has given me pause for thought. Well, he was, wasn’t he, if he was charging interest on his loans?  Others may find that acceptable, but God’s laws specific forbid making money in that way.   Oh, of course, it was nothing so blatant; no money changed hands. But a higher payment-in-kind might have been required.  Perhaps, the amount the cunning steward removed from the repayment was not a portion he had been skimming off for himself, but the interest the master was charging – at different rates for different commodities?  The master could hardly complain (could he?) at his employee deducting that.  He wasn’t supposed to charge it anyway!   This would make some sense of why Jesus held the steward up for praise; because he was righting an injustice that should not have been there in the first place? 

Maybe!  But it seems to go further.  The man was set to lose everything and faced an uncertain future with his unemployment. Seizing the moment, he acted not just to stop payments that may or may not have been legal, but also to win friends among those his actions helped.  Maybe, this was a cynical tit for tat – you know, one favour deserves another?  Or, perhaps, it was a real change of heart by the steward; refusing to prop up the system of exploitation anymore, his actions leading to genuine gratitude in return?  Maybe a growing reluctance to go along with his masters duplicity and a resultant softening of ruthlessness was reason that the man was in for the sack in the first place?  I don’t know!  Jesus, annoyingly, left it ambiguous. He didn’t even tell us what became of the man after the master’s initial, begrudging respect.  Perhaps he died in poverty and disgrace?  Or perhaps he went on to live a happy life, content and unburdened, his conscience clear, growing to value love and friendship more than money?

I’m beginning to like this understanding.   It goes well with Jesus’ insistence that we can’t serve two masters; we have to choose between God and money. 

Choosing to serve God means valuing people over profit.  It means finding life’s true riches in friendship, investing ourselves in relationships above anything.  It means using our money to help others rather than simply ourselves, thus building something strong and good and healthy; a mutual understanding from which we all benefit, and in which all who fall on bad times (like when they lose their jobs!) find support and security.  This is beginning to make great sense to me!

But here is one more thought to be going on with;  in the crisis, Jesus says, the ‘worldly’ act quickly, using the wisdom of their ways to find a way through.  In crisis, it might be easy for us to crumble, feeling let down or even abandoned by God.  No! says Jesus; learn from their shrewdness!  Learn from this man!  When hardship came, he determined to act quickly, committing himself fully – not to the ways of the world or the rule of money, but to the ways of God and the rule of Christ.  Acting for justice, helping the hard done by, seeking to live an honest life, building friendship and mutual care – this is the Kingdom of God. 

In a broken world where everything is confusing and everyone may seem corrupt, there is hope. We can break out!  We can change!  We can find a way to lasting peace and wholeness for all in Christ!

One of the women who followed Jesus experiences his Joy:

My first reaction was not to believe what I was seeing.  How many times had I carefully counted those coins?  There were ten of them, and I knew each one with all its dents and wear marks – each one so precious and meaning so much.  They represented not just my life’s savings, but my hope and future too.  They were going to pay for my wedding!   I kept them so carefully… but now one was missing!

Hurriedly, I counted them again.  And again; each count confirming what I already knew. Only nine were there.  One had gone.  Where and how, I had no clue.  But one was definitely missing. And no, after the shock, the panic kicked in.

I looked on the floor, behind the cupboard, under the table, and in the purse once again just to be sure. Still missing.

I got down on my knees, turned up the light, swept the whole room, first with my eyes, and then with a broom to make sure it was not hiding under any dust lying in the corners.  But no, I still could not find it.

By now I was despairing, but I could not give up.   I moved all the furniture, turned out every cupboard, lifted every pot.  Checked the purse again.  Looked everywhere again.  And again!  Still no joy.

Then, as I sulkily went to plonk myself down in my chair, about to give up and cry, a tiny glint of something caught my eye.  I blinked and looked again and, yes, there was something shiny there!  Poking with my fingers, hardly daring to breathe, I stretched and, feeling something solid, flicked it out in to the open; My coin… my life… my future, found again!     

My neighbours came running at the sound of my shrieks. I’m sure thy first feared that something terrible was happening but, once they realised no immediate rescue was necessary, they relaxed.  As they listened to my story, their concern turned to joy. High fives were shared, hugs given … We did a happy dance together!   And boy did we party!  All because my lost coin had been found! 

Now, when I heard Jesus reciting exactly such a scene, I was transported right back there and then…  to the fear and agony of loss … and to the joy and relief in finding again.

Jesus told two other stories to punch his point home – one about a shepherd who went searching for his lost sheep, and the other of a father delighting at the return of his lost son. 

I think everyone of us may have lost something only to have it returned to us. If so, we know the joy Jesus was describing.  The joy, he tells, that fills heaven. The Joy in the father’s heart.

And if this is the Father’s Joy – if this is the joy that animates the whole of heaven – then shouldn’t it also be our greatest joy too?  Doesn’t God call us to celebrate with him when that which was lost has been found?

Jesus’ last story had a sting in the tail.  He introduced another character into the mix: a grumpy, sulking, party-pooping older brother, who steadfastly refused to join the celebration.  This boy’s heart remained steadfastly unmoved by the Father’s love and delight.

Jesus was obviously having a dig at those who were grumbling about the company he kept; the pharisees whose hearts were clearly several sizes too small.

“Don’t you see: this is what thrills the heart of God!?  This is what excites the whole of heaven!?  If you don’t share that same joy, you are way out of step with heaven… way out of step with God!”

I don’t think they liked that!  Their forgiveness, it appears, is much harder to earn – sometimes it seems impossible.  Honestly, I don’t think they go much for redemption, whatever they may say. It’s easier to hold on to the hurt and perpetually point the finger. “Once a sinner, always a sinner”– while they, of course, have no need to repent!   Pardon me?!  

And, if the lost are returning and being welcomed home with delight, then who do they have to compare themselves against? Who can they sit in judgement on?  Who can they condemn?  Who can they dress down in order to measure themselves well against, so as to make themselves feel good?  No-one!

But Jesus doesn’t think like them.  Oh yes, he knows how lost we all are – but that’s why he’s here; to seek out the lost, to call God’s wandering children home.  His heart breaks with the loss, but delights all the more at the return!  

This grace of His is what ignites all the parting in heaven.  It is meant to ignite us too.  If we don’t share the seeking, celebrating heart of God, then how much can we really claim to know him?  And why on earth would we pray, as Jesus taught us: ‘your kingdom come and your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven’?!

Simon the Zealot understands what others fail to see:

(The zealots were a political movement in first century Israel committed to the overthrow of Roman rule. Extremely zealous about this (hence the name), they were the freedom-fighters of their day. Some might think of them as terrorists. The ‘brotherhood’ referred to below would be their group meeting. Such was the amazing draw of Jesus that his disciples included both former freedom fighters and collaborators such as tax collectors!)

I am not surprised that Jesus ended up talking about preparing for battle, because, quite honestly, I was there already!   The moment he started to speak like this, I was transported back to meetings of the brotherhood with tales of past uprisings and the speeches recounted of generals preparing their men for battle.  Every time, they stirred the hearts of men facing almost certain death; promising nothing, demanding everything, offering, in that moment, a chance to rise and stand heroically or walk away and live a half-life of regret and sorrow, safe and unharmed, but with something dead and diminished deep inside.  Like salt that isn’t salty anymore, as Jesus said, that life would be worthless.

Not everyone’s hearts and minds soared as did mine at Jesus’ words.    Many in the crowd, and even among the disciples, were shocked and horrified.  Some tripped up on the details, focusing on his words, not his tone. Some baulked at the enormity of his demands.  Others were bewildered as they wondered why he turned on the following crowd and questioned their loyalty when they were there, weren’t they, with him on the road to Jerusalem?

Let’s be fair, it was right of Jesus to challenge those who were following.  What did they expect?  A picnic in the park?  Surely, they had to see that there was a cost involved in following Jesus.  His way would not be easy. The journey would involve struggle and even strife.  So, best to count the cost and be sure you can pay it, Jesus was saying. Have you not seen the countless ruins of never completed buildings – their decaying foundations forever taunting the over-ambitious plans of their designers, a constant reminder of those who just could not follow through?   Worse still, how many battlefields are lined with the corpses of hapless soldiers, caught up in the folly of blind and foolish leaders who failed to calculate the impossible odds and charged right in, rather than suing for peace as wisdom demanded?  Years later the stripped bones and rusting swords still stick out of the ground, a sombre memorial, telling a sorry story. How important it is to stop and count the cost.

There were some among us who questioned Jesus’ wisdom in saying this.  “We need as many on board as possible – the more the better – why does he want to go and put them off like that?”   Clearly, they have not read enough history!   Or even their scriptures, if we take Gideon for example! Big is not always better.  A flabby and unprepared army can be taken down by just a few good men who are battle ready and wholly committed to their cause.

Most, however, accepted the wisdom of counting the cost – it was all the talk that came before that they struggled with. Talk of hate.  Jesus demanding that we must hate our fathers and mothers, our wives and children, even ourselves, if we are going to follow him and be his disciples.  That was so shocking, so alien and so out of keeping with everything else they had ever heard from Jesus that it was anathema to them.  So it should be, if that is what Jesus meant. But it wasn’t like that at all.  They should have been with us to hear the speeches of ancient generals and they would understand.  The seriousness of the moment demands extreme language!  When nothing less than 100% is demanded, you cannot soft pedal your appeal.  If its ‘do or die’ then nothing should stop you in the doing.  Great loves… family ties… everything has to be set aside and sacrificed for that moment. Even our own lives if necessary.  That’s what has always inspired me. That’s what true heroism is about.

And Jesus is calling for such heroism from his disciples.  Or, such commitment at least.  Following him may have many benefits (being with him the chief one of all!)  and Jesus promises so much when his Kingdom comes.  But it is not without its cost.  Standing for his Kingdom will lead to attacks from many sides. Even fighting with the weapons of love, as Jesus demands, we can be hurt and injured. We have to be prepared for that. Only then, can we honestly take up our cross and follow him.

So, while others baulked as they debated his choice of words, my heart soared as his speech called out the best in me. I surrender my life.  I will love him more than anything.  I will sacrifice all I have for him.   I will rise with him and any scars I may receive will be glorious. They will be like his.

Bartholomew grasps something wonderful:

I just don’t know, sometimes, how to take Jesus’ words.   Are we meant to take them literally, or look for some deeper, more profound meaning in them?  Is he just giving good advice… or trying to teach us the things of God?

If you have ever been caught in a social faux pas, you’ll appreciate how spot on Jesus was with this. If not, you can probably still imagine it.  “Er… excuse me, but I think you are sitting in my seat.” How embarrassing!  Worst still, if the host gets up and asks you to give up your seat because someone more important has come in.  That’s uber humiliating!  And the whole table gets to watch your walk of shame as, red-faced, you head for the next available seat, usually at the far end of the table, way down in the pecking order.  Best not to risk it, says Jesus.  Choose a lower seat and then feel the pride as the host gets up and leads you to a place of honour.  Far better, don’t you think?

Well, yes, I do think so. Even though I don’t often move in such social circles, or attend many events where rules and etiquette like that apply.  I see the plain wisdom of what he is saying.  It’s very good advice.

But is that all it is? Was Jesus simply giving good social advice? 

Far from it!  This simple tale, we are told, is a parable. That means it is meant to convey a deeper meaning. We are meant to look below the surface and see something more.  

So, what, then, was Jesus trying to tell us?  I think, maybe, it is this:  Beware of pushing yourself forward in the eyes of God.

I honestly don’t think Jesus cares two hoots about etiquette and social propriety.  Haven’t you noticed he’s always mixing with the outcasts, touching the untouchables, and promising that in his kingdom the first shall be last and the last shall be first?  In his mind, God just doesn’t see things like we do.  He has a very different understanding about who, and what, is important.

So why did he tell this tale?   Because everywhere around us we see people jostling for pride of position, and we see people thinking that they are more deserving of the attention of God. 

Because they are rich and ‘important’… because they are better educated… because they come from the ‘right kind of family’… because they are good and respectable, have always gone to church, and tried to do all the things the bible tells them to do…  Somewhere deep inside they think they are more deserving than others.  Sometimes we… I… think I am better than others.  I’ve been good, I deserve my reward! That seat at top table should be mine!

O dear!  Have we never understood that pride comes before the fall?  Have we never listened to anything that Jesus said about humility?  Have we forgotten that, just such a short time ago, Jesus stood a small child before us and said, if we are to enter his kingdom, we have to become like this little one?  Little one.  We have to be the little one!

More importantly, have we missed the point that all of this posturing is so unnecessary?   We don’t have to push ourselves forward. We don’t have to prove ourselves in the eyes of God.  He knows and loves us just as we are.  And it’s not just when we place ourselves too highly, but also when we set ourselves too low down that he notices.  When we humble ourselves, he lifts us up!   We may not think we deserve it – indeed, in truth, we may not actually deserve it – but, by his grace, he lifts us up! 

By his grace! 

By grace!  It is always, first and foremost, by his grace!

Understand this and we’ll never think of ourselves as better or more deserving than others.

Understand this and we’ll be ready to make our place amongst those the world despises as lowly. 

Understand this, and we will always be grateful for any seat at his table, knowing that we don’t deserve to be here, but we have every right to be here because it is his gift to give and he has given it.   It’s as simple as that!  For all our hesitation, God is our host and, in Christ, he has seen us and got up and come to greet us. Now he takes us by the hand and leads us to the place that he himself has prepared for us, inviting us to sit down in the glorious Kingdom of God.

*

Lord, it’s not about what we think of ourselves.

And it’s definitely not about what others think of us.

It’s all about what you think of us.

When we think of ourselves too highly, in your mercy, humble us.

When we think of ourselves as too lowly, in your mercy, humble us again

And lead us to trust in your grace alone.

In no way do we deserve a place at your table

but freely you have invited us

and graciously you lead us to the place that you have prepared especially for us.

We are grateful to take our place, together with all your other chosen guests,

As we sit down and celebrate life in the glorious Kingdom of God.

James the Younger feels the relief as a woman is healed in the sabbath.

For as long as I can remember, part of me has always hated the sabbath.   It’s so boring!  You can’t do anything!   It’s such a bind!

How it got to be like this, I am not quite sure.  As I see it, it’s meant to be a day of rest, yes, but also a day of celebration.  It’s great to have a special day, when we do different things and remember God a little bit more than we might on a normal, busy day.  But when did it all become tied up in massive restrictions?  When did the ‘Thou shallt nots’ get to trump everything else?  When did legalism grab the day by its throat and strangle the life out of it?  I just don’t know!  But I’m sorry that it did, that’s for sure.

This is one reason I have been drawn to Jesus.  Here was one rabbi who didn’t care much for all the rules and regulations, but cared deeply and passionately for the ones who were weighed down and oppressed by them.  The lawyers hate him for it, but he will not be bound by their excessive legalism.  He focuses on a God who sets us free.

And he doesn’t just talk about this, he acts on it too.  Like when we walked in to the synagogue the other day and he saw a woman bent over double and struggling to walk.  I don’t know how she got to be like that (Arthritis maybe?  A nasty injury? Or maybe something terrible happened to her in the past that left her afraid and cowering and, somehow, she got stuck like that?)  In any case, it looked as though someone had tied her neck to her feet with far too short a rope, and Jesus decided instantly to cut those chords that bound her.  He touched her gently on the back and said “stand up straight and tall. Be free!”  And she did just that.  Amazing!

Now you or I would have wanted to party at this – the woman certainly didn’t hesitate in singing her praise and thanks to God.  But before any celebration could really begin, the leader of the synagogue put a stop to it.  With a loud and angry presence, he boomed out his judgement.  Apparently, the healing shop has to close like all the others on the sabbath.  Come any other day but this one; not even doctors are allowed to work on the sabbath!

Here we go again! All that stuff and nonsense, and the ‘thou shallt nots’ once again!   The leader’s the ruling came like a lasso thrown around our neck to catch us and draw us back in before we could run too far and break free.

But Jesus gave him short shrift.

I knew he’d be unimpressed with all this ‘come back tomorrow’ malarky.  Yes, I suppose, he could have waited till after the sabbath.  But why would he?  There’s been such an urgency about Jesus recently that means he just won’t put off till tomorrow what can be done today.  It’s as though he senses there is not much time left … not just for himself, but for all of us.  We have to get our house in order and sort out our priorities now, before it is too late.

But it wasn’t just a question of timing – it was the hypocrisy of it all that grated with Jesus.

“Listen to yourself!” he scoffed, “You hypocrite! If your donkey was left standing in the heat and needed a drink, even though it was the sabbath, you’d untie it, wouldn’t you?   Then you’d take it to the river to get it a drink, wouldn’t you?  Goodness me – that’s walking and working on a sabbath!  Tut, tut!  But you’d do that without hesitation for a donkey, wouldn’t you?  Why not, then, for this poor woman? It’s a day of rest, why can’t she be allowed to rest from the burden that has bowed and bent her for so long? She’s been bound up for – what? – eighteen years!  Why can’t she be released and on the sabbath too?”

With that, the bubble burst.  We all let out a collective “Yes!” and punched the air with approval.  Even the leaders of the synagogue, to their credit, saw how ridiculous they had been and were ashamed of themselves. Somehow, we were all cut loose from the weight that has bent us and bound us for too long. His words were a great relief to us too.

But don’t get carried away and think that’s the end of the matter.  This sabbath stuff is so ingrained in us; it is one of the things that defines us a God’s people.  Our leaders will not let it go this easily. Like stubborn donkeys, they’ll kick back!  They don’t like being messed with, even if that messing is meant only to set them free!   They prefer their rules and regulations… they feel safer tied up and restricted.  Can you believe it?!  What a bind! 

And, Jesus, I’m sorry to say it, but I think you’re headed for more and more kicking and biting from these asses yet!

The former tax-collector continues to ponder…

Now, it’s one thing dreaming about becoming rich, it’s quite another worrying about how you are going to make ends meet!   

Many people do… some with more cause than others.  I’ve never really had to worry about putting food on the table, but I know there are those who do.  How do they manage?   Do they anxious?  Do they get jealous?  Do they get bitter and angry?   I think I can understand why they might!  I think, maybe, Jesus understands it too.

I don’t know about you, but whenever I am stressing or fretting about something, I find a good walk helps.  Maybe up a mountain, through the countryside, or along the coast …anywhere away from all the distractions and far enough to get a little breathless and feel the heart pumping goodness around the body. Best of all, somewhere with big skies or giant vistas, so that the magnificence of God’s creation can break through and put everything else into perspective.

It seems that Jesus agrees with this strategy.  He loves to take us walking and delights in pointing out the wonders of creation that we discover along the way.  We can learn a lot from nature, he keeps telling us.

“Think about those birds we stopped to watch as they were feeding on the seeds and hedgerows,” he told us. “Didn’t you just love that moment?  So tame…. So acrobatic… and so ingenious!  But those birds didn’t sweat away to plough the field and sow the seed.     They don’t rush to bring the harvest in, nor build great barns in which to keep it.  No!  God feeds them!  Full stop!  Everything they need is given!  And you are worth more than those birds!

“And remember that field, red with glorious poppies?  And the bright marigolds and wonderful blue cornflowers – such a glorious array of wild flowers?  They didn’t slave away for hours in some sweat-shop making their own clothes, did they?  God clothed them!  In robes finer than even the royal tailor can make, too!  And those flowers and all the grass – that God clothes – are gone in a day!  If God bothers with all the effort to clothe something so fragile and temporary as the grass, don’t you think he’ll be all the more certain to see you clothed too?  So, what are you worrying about? It’s pointless anyway!”

Do you remember Zacchaeus, that little guy in Jericho who had to climb up the tree to see Jesus?   He came to mind as Jesus continued.  Could Zacchaeus, I wondered… can anyone … grow one more inch just by worrying about it?  Of course not!  Maybe Zacchaeus didn’t like being small.  Maybe he worried he’d be overlooked because he was little?  Maybe he thought he’d have to get bigger in some way to attract Jesus’ attention?  What rubbish!   Jesus saw him up the tree, didn’t he?  And he surprised everybody by inviting himself to tea at Zach’s place!   Zacchaeus mattered to Jesus.  And what a difference knowing that he mattered made to Zacchaeus!  I was amazed at how free he became once he knew he was loved… how he could so easily let go.  No sooner had he met Jesus and he was selling up and giving so much away to the poor! His wealth didn’t matter to him so much anymore.  He didn’t have to cling onto his riches as though everything depended upon them.  He knew that it didn’t!   Amazing!  And that’s how free Jesus wants us all to be!

Know this; worrying makes absolutely no difference to the situation at all, it simply exhausts you!  And, Jesus is adamant, worrying actually reveals just how little faith we have.  When we worry, we are no different to the pagans, he reminded us.  They have an excuse; they have no-one to trust and believe in.  But we do!  Jesus reminds us again and again that we have, in God, a loving parent – one who knows what we need and sees it as his place to provide for us.

That’s his job. Ours task is to trust him to do it and then get on with living a life that shows we really do trust him. When we do that – when we ‘focus on his kingdom’, as Jesus put it – we will discover  that God provides these things.

But it’s hard, setting aside our concerns about making ends meet, isn’t it?  When we have children and other people that we are responsible for, how dare we be so reckless?  It seems so irresponsible … neglectful even.   Love demands our concern, doesn’t it?  What kind of a parent wouldn’t care about their children’s need?

And yet, isn’t that exactly Jesus’ point?  We have such a parent, don’t we?!  It’s not all on us!  When will learn to relax, and then to flourish, as we bank on God? 

I think, when we do, it will follow that the poor will have less to worry about and more to enjoy – Why? Because, like Zacchaeus, we will be freed to stop worrying about ourselves and happy to share with them.

Levi the tax collector, who had become a follower of Jesus, reflects on Jesus’ teaching:

Do you ever dream about becoming rich?

Who doesn’t?!    In my past occupation I came across ambitious businessmen all the time – they hated handing anything over in tax! The poorer folk hated the taxes even more. How they longer for a break: that little bit more in their pockets to give financial security. Sometimes they joked about striking it rich and keeping me busy! And you can’t blame them for dreaming! I do, it all the time! 

Oh, I don’t want to be filthy rich, I wouldn’t know what to do with it all! I’d feel guilty having so much to myself too. But … just a little bit more? A windfall of some sort? A business deal come good, or a bit of an inheritance? Just enough for a holiday or early retirement? That would be nice, wouldn’t it! It would take the pressure off…give financial security to me and my family. Who wouldn’t want that?  I think it’s reasonable, don’t you?

So, can you imagine my shock at what Jesus said just the other day?

It was all prompted when that obnoxious man came up to Jesus, practically demanding that he sort out this inheritance row with his brother.  I’m not at all surprised that Jesus responded with ‘Why on earth do you think I would want to get drawn into that?’.  Who did he think Jesus was; a lawyer?! (That’s a laugh – he obviously didn’t know what Jesus thought about the lawyers!)  And I’m sure Jesus was right not to get involved. I’ve seen a fair few families torn apart by rows over inheritance. It can get nasty. Best keep out of it!

But, of course, Jesus then went and plunged in feet first, didn’t he?!  There was something in all this that he didn’t like much at all.  Not the details, but the motive.  And while Jesus wanted nothing to do with arguing fine details, he went straight on to address the man’s heart.  There he saw selfishness and greed. And more than that, he attacked a warped view of life that assumes money and possessions are what you need for happiness and security.  Time and time again, he tells us that they are not!

So, Jesus starts telling a story about a man who did well in business, saved up, and took early retirement to relax and enjoy life for a bit. Well, he’d earned it, hadn’t he?  

To be honest, I couldn’t see the point of the story to begin with.  I was right behind this fellow Jesus was describing.  ‘Good on you, fella!’ I thought.  Everyone loves a self-made man, don’t they?  Hard work deserves its reward.  It’s to be encouraged. No-one can begrudge a successful person enjoying the benefits of their labour, can they?   Years of tradition have taught us that wealth is a blessing from God. Who’s going to argue with that?

But then Jesus threw the curved ball.  This man’s barns are full and he’s all set to enjoy the rest of his life, when he goes and has a heart attack!  Lights out, just like that!  What was all that scrimping a saving and celebrating good fortune for then?   You can’t take it with you when you die!  

Then came another analogy. Clearly this man had invested his money in the wrong bank.  And when the one bank went bust, he had no way of transferring his funds to another.  Too late he realised that the other bank was far safer and securer and would give everything he needed for life.  Should have invested there in the first place!

But how do we invest in the bank of heaven?  There’s a question, don’t you think? 

Well, clearly, it’s not by worrying about what inheritance you will get.  Maybe it’s more about building the inheritance you will leave?

And it can’t be all about ‘I, me, mine’, as it was for the man in this story.  Perhaps it’s more about investing in others rather than yourself? Living a generous life that is unfettered and free? Learning that giving trumps getting? Knowing that love rather than luxury is the goal?

Most of all, it seems it’s about learning to trust in God rather than any system that promises only material gain … really believing in his goodness and learning to rely on it … recognising that the fullness of life is a gift that God gives freely, not any right or reward.

Wow, that’s a lot to think about!  And it is so challenging!  Especially because, if I’m honest, I know I’m going to go on dreaming about becoming rich!  It’s so drilled into me.  But slowly, I believe, following Jesus is leading to a change of heart.

One of Jesus’ followers, who is a father, talks first to his children, then reflects on his own relationship with his father before sharing his reflections on Jesus’ teaching about prayer:

I see you, my boy!  Come here and give your dad a hug! … You too, Hannah. What are you doing hiding away over there?  You don’t need to do that.  I want you to know you can always come to me.  I like having you with me!  … There, That’s better. My two favourite little people!  Now, have you had a good day?  Yes?  So have I – all the better for seeing you two!   You can tell me all about it in a little while. Now, run along and tell your Mum that our guests are not staying for supper.  Tonight, it is family time. Just us four, OK?  Does that sound good?  … Yes? … I think so too. So, hurry!  Go and tell your Mum to get things ready!

(a long sigh!)

Do you know, I don’t think I’d have dared to approach their grandfather like that.  Well, OK, I think I can stretch to calling him my “Father”, if I must.  But he was never “Dad”.   What I remember is that he was always so distanced and formal in our relationship.  Not that you could really call it a ‘relationship’. He never had much time for me.  I used to joke that he had got his heir and his spare and I was just one child too many, but my brothers tell me he was always too busy for them too.  So, I don’t have many happy memories, I’m afraid.  Don’t get me wrong! I respected him.  He sired me and he provided for me … but I don’t think he ever loved me.    For my children it will be different, I am determined.  What ever else I can or cannot do for them, I will be there for them and I will be their dad.  They will grow up knowing that I love them, and they can come to me at any time. OK?  OK!

Now, where were we?  What were we talking about?  Oh yes… praying.  We were talking about praying.

*

Are you any good at praying? Or, like me, do you find you need a little help?

Some of us were with John before they followed Jesus, and they said that John taught them how to pray.  So, we asked Jesus if he would do the same.  And he did!

As always with Jesus, the prayer he taught us was short and sweet and very easy to remember.  Some think it is best used as a framework; a list of topics to pray through as we choose.  It certainly seems to be a neat little summary of all his teaching and well worth repeated reflection.  Others take it as a form of words to recite.  I think it’ll work really well that way.  Before you know it, his followers everywhere will be saying it together whenever they meet!

Most of it, I’d say, was quite familiar, reflecting prayers you’ll often hear in the Synagogue.   There’s a bit from the Kaddish prayer about God’s name being honoured,  an oft expressed prayer for forgiveness, and from our heritage in the Exodus, when God gave us Manna in the desert, we have always depended on God to ‘give us our daily bread’.  You’d not be surprised, either, that he wrapped it all up with a prayer for God’s Kingdom to come.  That’s Jesus, all over!

What was surprising, both in his prayer and in his teaching that followed, was the intimacy and lack of hesitation he invites us to have in praying.

He wants (can you believe it?!) us to call God ‘Father’.  Not just in the formal way I had to address my father, but in the intimate way that he relates to God himself.  “He is my Father and Your Father”, Jesus is always telling us. And now he wants us to call him “Dad”.   Hah!  Just like I told you I want Hannah and Jacob to call me!  Jesus wants us to know that same intimacy with God, to be free to come to him without hesitancy, and certainly without fear.  Anytime and anywhere, nothing is too unimportant or too trivial for him.  He loves to have his children near him!

And not just a father, but a friend.  The kind of friend you can knock up in the middle of the night if you need to.   Unlike with some grumpy neighbours we might all know; you don’t need to fear you’re pestering God.  He’ll be more than ready to help.  So “Ask … seek…knock!” says Jesus.  Don’t hesitate. Trust in God’s friendship.  It will not let you down.

And then, back to the father again.  No matter how bad we may be as parents, are any of us going give our children a snake when they ask for fish? Will we feed them scorpions when they ask for their favourite eggs for breakfast?  No way! It’s unthinkable!   OK, so, there may be some who neglect and abuse their children – but that is horrendous!   We believe we are better than that.  Jesus tells us to believe that God is doubly… quadrupley … infinitely better than that!  “How much more” says Jesus, “does the Heavenly Father long to give good things – the Holy Spirit even! –  to those who ask”.

So do not hesitate, says Jesus.  Be open, be honest and be quick to approach our father in prayer.  Trust his goodness and his love.    

If you want to know how to pray, the key lies not in any form or liturgy we can learn, no matter how good and helpful the words may be.  The key is remembering who it is that we are coming to with our prayers. 

I mean, I would have never have dreamt of running up to my father and asking him anything!  But I hope my children will know that they can always approach me.   And how much more so our Heavenly Father, our friend at midnight, who, Jesus tells us, always has an open door and a good and generous heart.  Remember this as you come to the Lord in prayer.   When you pray, start by saying “Dad” and go from there!

*

And now, if you will excuse me, my friends, I believe I promised my children some ‘Dad Time’.  I must go.  I do not want to let them down.

Lazarus, their brother*, reflects on his sisters’ squabbling and how it could mean far more than it seems:

Poor Martha. 

I’d seen it brewing for a while and then …  kaboom!  She could no longer keep it in.  Martha exploded!   

I can’t blame her, really.  Martha puts up with a lot from her sister. But to have this out in public, drawing our guest into the thick of it … well, that was unacceptable. 

Not that I’m sure she thought of Jesus as a guest.  Neither of them did.  Mary, too, was taking liberties in his company.  I guess they felt so close to Jesus and easy in his company.  He was more like family than friend.  So, the boundaries were becoming blurred.   As their brother, I have had to referee their sisterly spats many a time before.  Now, it seems, they are beginning to count Jesus as their brother also.  So, this time, he was the one called in to adjudicate.    To be honest, I was glad to have someone else sort them out for a change!

Now, they may look alike, my sisters, and there’s no doubting by appearance that they are family, but they couldn’t be more different in temperament, that’s for sure.  Martha has always been the practical one.  She’s the big sister, always ready to nurture and to provide.  Mary, on the other hand, is a thinker, rather than a doer.  If she could, she’d always have her head in a book. And with guests, she’s always a chatterer rather than a hostess.  Martha would immediately be out in the kitchen preparing food.  Mary would be lingering, wanting to get all the latest gossip, having to be dragged off to help out every time.

And, again this yesterday; there she was, sitting close and listening while her sister did all the hard work, as usual. No wonder Martha was exasperated!   As I have said, I’d rather she hadn’t brought it up in front of everyone like she did, but I can understand where she was coming from.  I think a quiet conversation with both my sisters is in order!

Mind you, I have a feeling it wasn’t just the usual thing going on this time.  Often, before, Martha has let it go; resigning herself to her sister’s dreaminess and simply and singlehandedly getting on with the job at hand.   Secretly I think she enjoys it that way.  She is more than competent and takes a real pride in the hospitality she offers.

But, this time, it was different.  When I saw Martha repeatedly eyeing her sister from the door way, I sensed she was more concerned than angry.   She appeared deeply troubled by what Mary was doing.   It was as though she sensed something more was going on – something improper.  So, this was not the normal scrap between sisters, with one feeling hard done by and complaining.  In truth, Martha was far more disturbed by what Mary was doing rather than what she was not.  

So, I began to wonder, was Martha worried more for her sister than for herself?  Had Mary, in some way, crossed a line?    Was Mary taking liberties?  Was she walking a dangerous line?  Did Martha foresee comeback and consequences, from which she sought to protect her sister?

Perhaps so!  You see, bad as it is to sit back and let others get on a do all the hard work, the real issue here was that Mary had obviously and deliberately chosen to ‘sit at the masters feet’.   Many people may not have noticed, because Jesus was unusually comfortable with women in his company.  To be honest, I didn’t even notice, for this was, after all, in a relaxed home environment.  But what Martha saw happening was a scene that, sadly, will probably be re-enacted time and time again throughout history where-ever women are excluded from education and opportunity.   Here was a woman, striding brazenly into the class room, taking a seat at a front row desk, daring anybody to object!  Mary was deliberately defying convention.  She was taking a man’s place in a man’s world – and that’s what troubled Martha.

But it did not trouble Jesus.

He was not offended by Martha’s outburst.  Neither was he unmoved by it.  Jesus understood what Martha was feeling.  But he clearly did not support her point of view. Far from it.

He spoke gently and tenderly to my sister, first praising her for her hospitality and skill. He knew how quick she was to offer service and made his appreciation known.  But he also saw her getting unusually flustered, and sought to calm her.  I think he sensed it was Martha’s worries that were getting the better of her, not the actual work load.

On that point Jesus could offer only cold comfort. Yes, Mary was pushing the boundaries. Yes, she was taking a huge risk. Yes, there might well be kickback and Mary could get hurt by it.  But, never-the-less, Jesus wanted to affirm Mary’s choice. This was, he said, ‘the better way’ –- the way of his life changing kingdom. 

Yes, his kingly rule is, without doubt, lived out in service.  But it is grounded in ‘sitting at Jesus feet’; gaining purpose and direction for our service through drawing close, listening and learning from him.

I think we must learn that his way is a way that will challenge many conventions and turn much of what we accept as ‘normal’ upside down.  It is a way that will challenge the status quo, particularly where it is used to exclude and deny opportunity to one section of society of another.  It carries risk for those who follow.  It may require countless acts of courage and defiance. Change always does.

His way calls for countless Marthas; ready to serve others with everything they have got.  But Jesus also calls for many Marys too; women and men ready to draw close to him, to listen and be inspired with a new vision of what can be, then to step out risk everything to be the change they hope for. 

 All that said, what am I going to say to my sisters now?  How am I ever going to be able to sort them out?!

* I have made an assumption in using Lazarus as the observer and story teller in this monologue, making a connection with the Mary and Martha who appear in John 11, whose brother Lazarus is raised from the dead.

This may or may not be a correct assumption.  Luke does not mention Lazarus and makes the point of saying that Martha invited Jesus into the house she and her sister shared.   If Lazarus was their brother, usual convention would have it that he be mentioned as head of the household.  

But then again, Jesus was not one for following usual convention.  Maybe Luke is following suit?

In either case, I needed a story teller, so why not Lazarus?!

A lawyer is faced with coming to terms with his own prejudice and questions whether words are ever enough

*

Ahhh!  I didn’t answer his question …. Couldn’t answer his question.

Nothing more than a mumble … that’s all I would give:

“The one who was kind to him”, I said.

The one who was kind – how pathetic can you get? 

Come on man, why didn’t you just say it?  The Samaritan – that’s what you mean, isn’t it?

But you couldn’t come out with it, could you?

A coward, that’s what you are!

In spite of all your pretensions, you’re a coward, and nothing more!

“The Samaritan!” that’s all you had to say!

But you couldn’t … you wouldn’t. 

Oh Lord, how did I get myself into this mess?!

You know, I haven’t slept a wink all night?

Those words that I wouldn’t let out yesterday, have been racing around like a trapped animal in my head.  Try as I have to quieten them, they’ve just carried on raging … shouting out their truth and accusing me.

I’ve walked miles around the city … and I paced my room through the night … but there is no escaping.

“The Samaritan” they keep shouting.

“The truth” they keep shouting.

“Why can’t you face up to it?” they keep shouting.

“Why can’t you face up to yourself?”

Oh man! Some lawyer you turned out to be!

With all that training, how did you allow him to get you like that?

But he walked all over you, didn’t he?

Saw right through you, didn’t he?

Turned the tables good and proper, didn’t he? … and look at you now!

I mean just look at you now!

I went, yesterday, to trap him – to catch him out and discredit him.

We all try to do it. It’s part of our job, but also, I think, part of our make-up.

We’re into a deadly kind of one-up-manship.  We thrive on conquering … climbing high as intellectual giants … Proving ourselves, by destroying others: seeing their arguments tumble, exposing the weakness of their point.

For weeks we’ve been trying to do it with Jesus.  We’d discuss for hours the best tactics to use, and then we’d go and try it out.  But he was a tough one, you know.  All our standard put-you-downs had failed, and we we’re getting just a little – well, more than a little – worried by this upstart of a Galilean. We had to shut him up.

So, we talked and we plotted and we schemed … there had to be a chink in his armour somewhere but as yet we just hadn’t found it.  And whenever we got the chance, we would have just one more prod.

Well, it was about my turn to have a go at him yesterday.

Although I really wish I’d never tried it now!

A right idiot, that’s what I proved myself to be.

I made a subtle play … but play it was and Jesus knew it.

There was nothing straightforward about my question … It was quite obviously loaded and set to trap.  I wasn’t at all really interested in his way to eternal life. But maybe, just maybe, he’d say something out of line … give me something to pounce on … open himself up for the kill.

Maybe, just maybe, my name would go down in the book as the one who finally managed to put this back-woods preacher-man in his place?

But, right from the outset, I was onto a loser.

He used a simple technique: answering question with question.

He lobbed the ball right back into my court.

And then I was the one having to think hard and fast how to play it.

I was the one having to watch my words carefully so as not to be caught out of line.

I quickly gave a text book answer; perfectly correct and no-one could argue with it.

There was nothing startling about it.

Just words that anyone with an average knowledge of scripture would say.

Words of the greatest commandment, of loving God and loving your neighbour as yourself.

From the point of view of controversy, it was bland and completely disarming.

“Well said!”, he replied, taking the last bit of sting from my tail.

“Good answer!  Well said!  Do that and you will live!”

I’d expected something a bit more engaging than that … but the very simplicity of his answer left me completely outwitted.  I’d publicly drawn my sword, so to speak … but he’d shown there was absolutely nothing to fight about.  Unless I was going to argue with my own scriptures, that is.  Unless I was going to walk right into the trap I myself had set.

I looked at my opponent and saw the sad smile on his face.

He knew that I knew that he knew I was breaking.

I felt foolish about the whole thing, and I wanted out of there right away …

but a lawyer’s mind under threat knows how to come out fighting.

I was determined to justify myself, and not to leave it that I’d asked a pointless question …

So, I immediately asked another one, hoping to save face, hoping to find some ground opening up for debate so that I could talk myself out of humiliation.

But even that was denied me.

He didn’t throw a question back at me this time… he told a story!

And it was a good story, a gripping story, and even I have to admit he used that story powerfully and to great effect … but I didn’t want a story, I wanted an argument and a debate.   I didn’t, then, want to listen, I wanted to speak … to talk him down, to drown him out with the drone, drone, drone, of my own self-justification.

But I’d asked the question, so I had to hear the answer: “Who then is my neighbour”, I’d said.

Now, I have travelled that road from Jerusalem to Jericho several times, so I was heartened, to begin with, to hear that Jesus was talking absolute rot!  A man travelling that road alone?  Never!  Or if he did, he deserved everything he got.  Too dangerous for anyone … even for priests and for Levites.

But at the inclusion of those two, my humour began to fail and I found myself smarting.

OK, they were completely justified in hurrying on by if the man was dead … but he never gave them pause to check!  He painted them black and heartless, leaving a helpless man to his fate.  Why?  Because of the danger?  No! Because of the risk to ritual purification!  A man left to die for the sake of ritual purification!

At this point, I was quite surprised how far Jesus had managed to take me along with him.  I was as angry with the system as I was with him for exposing it. But I was angrier with myself for letting him get me thinking like that.

What followed next was a real punch below the belt.

A Samaritan! 

A dog of a Samaritan … doing what any decent person would do … displaying, where my own leaders had failed, the very love that Jesus had forced me to admit was the greatest commandment and the way to life!

Beaten at my own game!

The tables turned!

I was challenged to measure my own life by the standards that I had been using to try and trap Jesus.

“Who then, acted like a neighbour to him?”

“The Samaritan!”  

I wanted to say “The Samaritan!”  But I couldn’t … and I still can’t.

Not really.

Not publicly.

Not from the heart.

So where does that leave love then, you may be asking?

Well, don’t you think that’s what I’ve been asking myself all night?

Am I really so cold, so blind, so prejudiced?

Why couldn’t I say it?

Why couldn’t I admit anything good of him – the Samaritan – my neighbour?

“The one who was kind to him”, I mumbled.

How pathetic!

How revealing!

Mind you, it was a good lawyer’s answer that; perfectly correct, but not at all true!

I suppose that I should be proud of myself, really.

A few of my colleagues, I expect, will have picked up on it, and they’ll congratulate me tomorrow.  “Good answer, that!”  they’ll say… “Well said!”

Now where have I heard those words before?

And His smile told just how little He thought of it all!

Well said!    

Well said?