NewCreation

Homily for 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

Welcome, my sisters and brothers, to this the homily for the 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time. And we continue with Luke's Gospel. There's a short jump from last time. Last time, you remember, we had the parable of the so-called rich fool. There follows a section about not worrying and not striving, being like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field — passages which come in other Gospels as well — so not to worry, not to strive, because your Father knows you need these things. And it's from that point that we begin today's Gospel, which starts: "Do not be afraid, little flock." And that's actually the only place where this phrase comes in any of the Gospels. "Little flock." It's this affectionate note. Jesus talking to his disciples here. But it's this affectionate note: "For it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." And I think that that's really what is behind the whole of this passage that's coming up, which can be a very, very difficult passage, because it's asking us to sink into something which isn't evident, and which is really absolutely central to the Christian faith — which is the notion that underneath everything that is, there is a good pleasure in doing things for us, that there is someone who wants our wellness, wants our flourishing, wants our happiness, our safety. "Your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." In other words, there's a hugely powerful project going on, and we're already on the inside of it. It's as we're being given something, and because we're being given something, that we are then expected to behave in certain ways. So this is incredibly difficult, I think, psychologically for any of us to get into, because we are inclined to worry, we are inclined to strive after things. And it's very, very difficult to — what it says next: "Sell your possessions and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven." In other words, to treat anything that we have as something that is worth much more as we give it away. that our real treasure is what we've given away, and therefore is our contribution to other people, rather than anything that we have. Psychologically, that is incredibly difficult. "You get an unfailing treasure in heaven where no thief comes near and no moth destroys." And then this line, which sounds very beautiful but is in fact terribly challenging: "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Well, this is a shocking Gospel message, particularly at a time when we're hearing about a financial recession and collapse going on all around us — prices going up, inflation, etc. etc. Worrying about our treasure here on earth is a full-time business for many of us. What on earth does it mean to have such confidence in what we are being given, that we can happily give away and carry on giving away, and regard what we have given away — and therefore no longer control — as what our treasure is, something outside our control? That is incredibly difficult. And yet that is the image of God which Jesus is giving us: that there is something being brought into being in the midst of us, and it is brought into being in the degree to which we learn to give ourselves away, and that it's in the giving ourselves away that we have treasure. Oh, so painful. Because where the rubber hits the road is always where I haven't got enough. How can I give away if I haven't got enough? And this seems an incredible challenge — an incredibly difficult challenge — to live, to dwell in the sense of an abundance that is prior to us, which is what faith is all about, such that we are not frightened to give away. And one of the signs of being not frightened is to be dressed for action and to have our lamps lit. In other words, the picture which then follows of this cheery, generous-hearted servant is of someone who is waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet — in Hebrew it's probably just "banquet," but it doesn't matter, and the word gamos in Greek can be either — so they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. So these are people who are very keen, longing for the master, the generous one, to come in, because they know they live from his generosity. So they're going to be sharing the treasure when he comes in. And of course it can be hoped that the master is in a great mood after he's been to a banquet — he's really been enjoying himself — so he comes home and they're really keen to see him, because he'll be in fine form. And what do they discover? Even more than him being in fine form, he's delighted to find them awake. "I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat and he will come and serve them. In other words, he is going to be giving them the meal and the feast. He'll be bringing the feast out amongst them. And of course we have all sorts of hints that this is the Eucharist that's being talked about, but don't let that take away from the notion of this huge prior goodness and joy and contentedness coming into our midst and wanting to give itself away to us. And that that's what being a servant is: looking forward to being part of the parceling out of the fun, of the amusement, of the slightly tipsy – one hopes – goodwill that's going on here. "If he comes during the middle of the night or near dawn and finds them so awake and alert, blessed are those slaves." In other words, because it's the culmination of something they've been waiting for. They know that plenty is on the way, and now they're finding themselves with plenty being handed out to them. "But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour." Now, Luke has put together two parables that are in different places in other Gospels, but he's put them together here so that the master is coming joyfully home in one scene, and in the next it's a thief coming in the night, and people are not prepared for the thief coming in the night – with the suggestion in Luke that this is the same thing seen from a different angle. What's it going to look like for the master to come in and set out his feast? Well, for some people it's going to look like a thief coming in the night, something for which you need to be prepared so as to prevent it. "He would not have let his house be broken into." And in fact – and this is a considerable point – before the destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem, Ezekiel was told to bore a hole in the wall of the Temple and see all the abominations that were being done, so that when the Temple was destroyed there was a witness to what had been going on. That's Ezekiel chapter 8. And the notion, of course – which is brought out in, I forget whether the Markan or the Matthean version of this – that if the thief died while burgling into the house during the night, then the house owner was not responsible for it, did not owe blood money. But if the thief died during the day, it was because the house owner hadn't prepared his house, hadn't protected his house properly enough, and then he would owe blood money to the thief's relatives. That's in the Torah, certainly. So the notion that Jesus coming and dying in the breach of the house of the system – the whole of the Temple system – was in fact the same as the master returning to offer a banquet to his people: that's being hinted at here. two things being the same: the returning master of the thief in the night, the two ways of the coming of the Lord. So Peter then says, "Well, Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?" Because of course he's addressed them as a little flock first, so it seems originally that it's for just the apostolic group. But no, Jesus then says — the Lord said — "Who then is the faithful and prudent manager whom his master will put in charge of his slaves?" His bondsman, probably. Hebrews didn't have slaves properly speaking; they had bondsmen, people who — it was a slave-like existence, but there was an element of freedom in the lifestyle. Apart from this, it wasn't lifelong. And the master put in charge of his bondsmen to give them their allowance of food at the proper time. Now what's interesting is that here again the assumption is that the master is feeding the bondsman, that there is plenty, there is not a shortage of goods to be handed out, there is plenty coming in. "And blessed is that bondsman whom his master will find at work when he arrives. Truly I tell you, he will put that one in charge of all his possessions." So again, it's the arrival: in as far as you have been involved with helping to bring into being the possessions of the Lord in this world, so you will actually become the owner of them. You are being built into the new creation; the abundance is making itself present through you, and you become part of the abundance. "But if that slave, that bondsman, says to himself, 'My master is delayed in coming,' and if he begins to beat the other bondsmen, men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk" — in other words, it's not going to happen, there will be no accounting — "the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know, and will" — the Greek says here "cut him in pieces," actually the Greek says "cut him in two," from the same word as we get dichotomy, and we'll see why that's important — "and put him with the unfaithful." Well, why cut him in two? This is — you know, it's a horrific notion of a master coming over and saying, "I shall cut you in two. Down with the sword." What's being talked about here? Well, one of the ways in which you made a covenant with someone, to show that you made a deal with them, was to cut an animal in half and to walk between the pieces, which is a way of saying, "If I don't do what I have promised to do, may it be done to me as to this beast." And of course, famously, Abraham was instructed to cut a beast in half, and the Lord himself went through the beasts, therefore making his covenant with Abraham, which is that "If I do not do what I promised you, let it be done to me as it is done to this beast." So the Lord offered, if you like, to be killed — which of course then eventually happened — as part of the backup to his promise to Abraham. So here we have the servant who's come home has been cut into pieces. The indication is that he has failed to live up to his covenant — he hasn't even tried, really; he's simply paid no attention to the covenant at all. So it is to be done to him as it would have been done to the covenant-breaker. "Whereas that slave who knew what his master wanted but did not prepare himself or do what was wanted will receive a severe beating." In other words, someone who had got the message, knew what was wanted, and was either too lazy or sloppy or whatever, is likely, according to this account, to get severely beaten. But one who did not know and did what deserved a beating will receive a light beating. In other words, ignorance is mitigation. It's always why Jesus was much tougher on his own people than he was on Gentiles when he talked to them, because they had no excuse, having received the Torah of Moses. The same logic applies to us as Christians — we have no excuse, having heard the Gospel, for our behavior. "For everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded." So I think that takes us back to the beginning, to the notion of so much more being available to us, that we can trust in what is being given to us. And that as we trust it, we actually become someone. And as we become someone, we can entrust more to others. And that this — which is a gift, massively prior to us, what turns us into becoming capable of rejoicing — does mean that we acquire responsibilities with it. It is, as it were, that any failures cannot be mitigated. And that is frankly very challenging, as someone who has often fallen asleep, sometimes got drunk, I hope not beaten other servants, but who could well be regarded as someone who's often asleep at the wheel. What does it look like to be alert, alive, with our belt girdled and our lamp lit, so as to be ready for service when the Lord comes? This I find a very, very challenging Gospel. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.