Rich toward God

In the meantime, when so many thousands of people had gathered together that they were trampling one another, he began to say to his disciples first, “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy.  Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed . . .”  Luke 12:1-2a

The crowd is becoming a mob: so many they’re pressing in on every side, even trampling each other.   It’s a friendly mob—for now.  A leadable mob.  How many tyrants before or since have played to just such a crowd, putting on shows of outrage or grievance to sway them?

That’s not how the Kingdom comes.  Fresh from outraging and grieving the Pharisees, Jesus isolates himself momentarily from the crowd, warning his friends that they are not immune from hypocrisy.  The Kingdom is not to be paraded as a show or gussied up in false piety.  They won’t get away with it if they try: There is nothing covered that won’t be uncovered, nothing hidden that won’t be made known.

As for the people, his fans (he’s still talking to the disciples): Don’t trust them.  And don’t fear them.  This may have sounded strange to his hearers—weren’t the people on their side?  Why is he talking about fear?  Look at these thousands: all he has to do is say the word and they’ll rush to arms!  They would mob Jerusalem, thrust Herod from his palace and the gushing Sadducees from the Temple, and put Jesus over both.  With a single word he could move them to the left or right; he’s in control.  Which means we’re in control.  But wait a minute–

“Fear Him who has the power to throw body and soul into hell.”

Perhaps he gestures downhill at the milling throng.  “All they can do is kill you.  He can curse you forever.  And he will.  They can be easily deceived; he never will be.  You can whisper a word in your closet, and he’ll shout that word from the rooftops.  He knows your plans before you do; you’ll never out-think him.”

They get it.  He’s not talking about the devil or some existential enemy: he’s talking about God Himself. This is sounding ominous–whom to fear, what to guard against, forgiveness withdrawn for blaspheming the Holy Spirit (whatever that means), standing up to authorities . . . So it’s not going to be unbroken triumph from now one?

And Jesus has been claiming to be God’s son—why does he talk as though God could be an enemy?  Even though each one of us is worth more than many sparrows.  (Well, that’s a comfort!  Er, how many sparrows, exactly?)

And what does he mean by whoever denies me before men?  Who would deny Jesus?  Look how many are vigorously affirming him, even to trampling on each other in their enthusiasm!  And this Holy Spirit he keeps talking about . . .

Oh, good: the private discourse is over.  Their heads are starting to hurt.  Back to the crowd, and some unambiguous, full-throated affirmation.

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Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.”    But he said, “Man, who made me a judge or arbitrator over you?”  Luke 12:13-14

It stands to reason that, if Messiah can heal diseases, he can fix family disputes, too.  Especially if one side is clearly right and the other wrong.  “Lord, he’s not sharing.  Tell my brother he has to share.”  Who wouldn’t sympathize?  Who hasn’t been through a family wrangle over the will, or at least heard of relatives who are no longer speaking to each other after she got what dad clearly promised to him?

“Friend,” Jesus addresses him—though most translations use “Man,” a more distant form of address.  Or how about “Dude”?  We can imagine slight variations implied in each form:

Friend: (You’re not going to like my answer, but try to listen.)

Man: (Buck up, because I’m not going to answer your question.)

Dude: (What kind of question is that, anyway?)

There’s a name for people who sift out arguments and determine the best way forward, and that is Judge.  Jesus is not the judge.  It’s not his job to help people get along with each other or restore family harmony–in fact, as he’ll reveal later on, he may divide families.  Everyday virtues like sharing are secondary to the establishment of his Kingdom.

barns

And amassing wealth may be directly antithetical to it.  Possessions do not equal life.  He has a story about that: The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, “What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops.”  And he said, “I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and all my goods.”  The man in his story is a type most of his hearers would consider virtuous and blessed.  Also prudent.  Didn’t Joseph build storehouses for the overflow of Egyptians harvests, in order to have enough during hard times?  You never know what will happen—in a world like this, it’s wise to be ready for anything.  And if famine comes, won’t he have enough to sell to his neighbors?  But while storing up his wheat and barley he also stores his heart.  That’s why God calls him

FOOL!

What a shock runs through the crowd!  This is the last person they would have labeled a fool; his actions are all the opposite of foolish.  Diligent husbandry, wise thrift, care for the future, enjoyment of a well-deserved reward—what’s wrong with any of that?

He’s rich from God, but not rich toward God.  Amassing wealth is not the problem; investing it is not the problem.  The problem is what amassing is for and what investing is in.  God has invested in this man’s life and received no return.  Therefore, the life is forfeit.

Do they get it?  Or is this one of those teachings that will eventually cause the wheels to come off the gospel bus and bring it to a screeching halt?

For the first post in this series, go here.

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The Ultimate Party Guest

While Jesus was speaking, a Pharisee asked him to dine with him, so he went in and reclined at table.  The Pharisee was astonished to see that he did not first wash before dinner . . .  Luke 11:37-38

When invited into the house of Simon the Pharisee a few chapters ago, Jesus was challenging but not confrontational.  Now he accepts the invitation of another Pharisee, who obviously doesn’t know what he’s let himself in for.

Why the invitation?  The Pharisee (we should call him something—let’s say Matthias) may be one of those muttering types, always in the background talking to his comrades behind his hand, disputing Jesus’s words or actions.  We can imagine some of those conversation: Did he really say he can forgive sins?  Certainly appeals to the great unwashed, doesn’t he?  Can you believe the ignorance of his followers?  A motley crew, that.  And just between us, I wouldn’t entirely rule out the Beelzebub connection . . .

Not to impugn the poor man’s motive, but—we can fairly assume he is not eager to hear and apply what Jesus said.  Perhaps the invitation is extended to get the man away from his adoring fans and settle once and for all some of the doctrinal questions his ministry raises.  Surround him with pundits and experts who won’t be impressed with his clever, crowd-pleasing answers.

If that was the intention, Jesus gets the jump on them.  Perhaps Matthias might have received a clue when his guest made an entrance, striding in with the ever-present twelve, bypassing the basin held by the towel-draped servant at the foot-washing stool, glancing about the banquet hall, choosing a place for himself, and settling in.

The muttering begins: Did you see that?  He doesn’t just come off the street—he brings it in with him!  Thinks he’s too good to wash?  Or is he showing off his common touch?Ancient-Wine-Cup

Jesus’ voice snaps like a whip. “You want to talk about washing?”  He reaches across the table to pick up an empty enameled cup (does Matthias wince at the dirt under his guest’s fingernails?)  “Look how meticulously you’ve cleaned the outside of the cup.  But inside–”  He runs a finger around the rim and inspects it critically—“full of greed and evil.  The widow you took this cup from in payment of a debt—why did you not consider canceling the debt instead?  You pinch out your tithe of mint and dill but strangle justice and love.  I ask you, what is the tithing for?”

An angry buzz begins, spreading throughout the room.  If nothing else, Jesus is displaying a severe breach of decorum, as he sits up and waves a hand at the head of the table, which the self-important guests have claimed.  “Woe to you, Pharisees!  You love those places of honor and salutations in the marketplace.  Little do the common people know you are walking over dead men’s bones!”

Now, really: this has gone far enough.  One of the scribes stands up and points a finger at him.  “Teacher.  When you say these things you insult us, too.”

Is there a glint in his eye?  “Do I?  Then let us remove all doubt: Woe to you scribes!  You know enough law to make it a burden—you load the people down with rules that you yourselves wouldn’t accept.  You sit in your synagogues and figure out ways to look pious.  You have buried the heart and purpose of the law, so it’s no benefit to you or anyone else.”

They are all on their feet by now, shouting, waiving arms, shaking fists.  The twelve are giving it right back when Jesus rises, shakes his head at them, smiles at a serving girl while lifting a fig off her tray, and leads the way out.  He’s left his host and the others tied in knots, and from now on there will be no pretense at reaching a compromise.

For the original post in this series, go here.

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Jesus’ Mother’s Day Sermon

As he said these things, a woman in the crowd raised her voice and said to him, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts at which you nursed!”  Luke 11:27

A random voice calls out a blessing on his mother.  What was behind it?  Perhaps it was totally heartfelt and spontaneous: a woman lays hold on womanhood, goes back to Eve the mother of all living and drags her forward as some sort of honored consort or partner to Messiah.  Or this might be a customary blessing among women for a favored son.  Or maybe she’s looking for a way to distinguish herself and attract his attention (full disclosure: that would be my motivation).  There’s nothing wrong with her—no malady or affliction to catch his eye or attract his touch, but there’s something about him that opens people up, especially—perhaps—women.  None of that fierce, forbidding air that keeps them at arm’s length from the prophets or rabbis.  For whatever reason—probably a mix of them—she cries out.mother's-day

Whatever she expected, his response is not it.  “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and keep it!”  This is not a put-down; it’s a correction.  He does not deny his mother’s blessedness, spoken by her cousin Elizabeth (1:42), but he shows it’s beside the point.  Motherhood, fatherhood, family tranquility, child training and childlike love, all are beautiful things.  But they are not primary things, or stand-alone things.  Mother’s day is subordinate to Pentecost, and enjoying God’s order is secondary to hearing and doing his word.

It’s not a pink carnation.  But carnations don’t last long anyway.

Along about now, a subtle shift occurs.  His teaching, always a challenge to the listeners, is taking on an edge: “This is an evil generation.  It demands a sign”—harking back to 11:16, where some stubborn individuals were demanding a confirmation from heaven even as Jesus was driving out a demon on earth.  His word should be enough—pagans in Nineveh, the world’s most wicked city at the time, recognized the word when it came to them.  The Queen of Sheba understood where Solomon’s wisdom came from.  But this generation is privileged to have One greater than Jonah, Solomon, Elijah, even Moses standing before them, and they don’t recognize him.  (He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him, John 1:11.)

But do we?  He says “something greater,” not “someone greater.”  The “thing” must be the kingdom, heralded by signs and manifested in words.  We recognize the One but not always the Thing—that is the lordship, the authority, the demands, the rewards, the response, the life that man and his kingdom demand of us.  It’s all wrapped up in him, but it requires everything from us.

For the original post in this series, go here.

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Prince of Demons?

Now he was casting out a demon that was mute.  When the demon had gone out, the mute man spoke, and the people marveled.  But some of them said, “He casts out demons by Beezebul, the Prince of Demons.”  Luke 11:14015

Most of the demons Jesus has encountered have been obnoxiously talky, but this one is mute. Not only that, but it has bounds its host with muteness, so neither of them can hail Jesus as the Son of the Blessed One or beg him to go away.  So it was a quiet exorcism, as these things go, but the observers are duly amazed.  But there’s always a skeptic in the crowd—this time not identified as scribes or Pharisees, so they may just have been run-of-the-mill village atheists.  Wherever these observers are coming from, their observation is profoundly stupid: “Well, suppose he’s in league with the demons?  Ever thought of that?  He could be getting his power from Beelzebul!”

Logic-choppers usually forget there are real issues at stake.  And conspiracy theorists get so lost in their thickets of conjecture they lose sight of good sense altogether. Jesus is following the convoluted unreason in their heads and in their whispered conversation and knows it for what it is: not rational but rationalizing.  It doesn’t deserve a response (in my opinion), but he responds anyway.  Look, people:

Satan is not a myth or an abstract concept—he’s the enemy.  Possession isn’t a trick or a parlor game to him—it’s a battle tactic.  He’s in this to win.  But so am I.House Divided

A house, a family, a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand–correct?  Now, think: if a commander divides his troops and orders them to fight each other, how long will he last?  Let’s rule out that option, shall we?  And if we do, what’s left?

The kingdom of God has come upon you.

God’s counteraction has rushed upon this world and its uneasy, illegitimate ruler (Satan) and threatens to unseat him.  The invading kingdom is rattling the bars and picking the lock, and Satan—Beelzebub—looks a great deal less masterful than he did.  He clutches his most cherished weapon—death—upon his throne of human skulls, and waits for his opportunity to use it.  This is reality, people: The kingdom is upon you.

But—

Perhaps he turns to the formerly-possessed man, whose pent-up words are pouring out to his wife and children and neighbors.  Feeling that gaze, the man falls silent.

“When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, and finding none it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came’ . . .  The demons are defeated, but not destroyed.  It’s still around, that spirit who once dominated you, who squatted in your mind and held your tongue.  Do not suppose your soul is your own.  If the spirit of muteness is banished, you are subject to a spirit of excess.  If by God’s grace you have overcome addiction, you may fall victim to pride.  A house is made to be occupied; you can’t clean it up and keep it for a showplace.  Your locks and deadbolts are nothing to the spirit world; if God does not reign in your heart, Satan will.  Whether you recognize him, or not.

For the original post in this series, go here.

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