Monday, 07 November 2005
Pentecost 26
Zephaniah 1: 7, 12-18 NRSV text
I Thessalonians 5: 1-11 NRSV text
Matthew 25: 14-30 NRSV text
“God is like a money-grabbing bully!” Is that what Jesus is really saying? Before we say, “No, of course not! How could you possibly imagine that?” we ought to recognise the shocking ways in which Jesus’ own practice cut across accepted notions of good taste and proper piety. Jesus’ pronouncements about God are often equally shocking. After all, he’s just likened Christian leaders and disciples to foolish, young, unmarried girls – hardly the sort of comparison guaranteed to win the hearts and minds of male hearers in a gender-stratified society! That was bad enough. That parable left unanswered the question of what “waiting” might mean. The parable of the talents answers the question, but in no less a shocking and offensive way.
Before looking at the parable in more detail, I want to reflect a moment on the emphasis on shock and unexpected surprise in the texts, not only for today, but over the past few weeks. The prophetic texts have emphasised the fact that the longed for Day of the Lord will be completely different from what is expected. This is because of the character of Yahweh. To use CS Lewis’s image from the Narnia Chronicles, “Aslan is not a tame lion!” Yahweh acts in sovereign freedom, in love, breathtaking grace, but also in anger and in judgement. Yahweh defies expectations and refuses all the boxes that people try to put their God in. Jerusalem cannot conclude from the covenant that Yahweh has made with Jerusalem that they are safe from judgement or destruction. Israel’s injustice does not go unnoticed and will not go unpunished. Election does not mean that God is restricted to using the chosen people – Yahweh calls Cyrus “my messiah”. Zephaniah reminds the inhabitants of Jerusalem that Yahweh is a player in the affairs of the people who cannot be ignored. Yahweh’ sovereignty is not about disinterested distance! This is not a God who can be relied upon to do “neither good nor harm” (Zephaniah 1: 12). This sort of complacency is about to be shattered: the great day is near and it will be a day of wrath, distress, anguish, ruin, devastation, darkness, gloom, battle and destruction (vv 14-16). Yahweh is about to make “a full, a terrible end” of the people (v18).
Two things define Yahweh’s sovereignty in these prophetic texts: Yahweh’s power and Yahweh’s moral seriousness. Yahweh’s unpredictability and capacity to shock is not an exercise in capriciousness or some fragile god-sized egomania. It is about a God whose will for life and relationship will not be contained, and whose action – however terrifying – is aimed at human flourishing, not its destruction. This is necessarily a statement of faith. We are forced by the texts of the Bible itself to wrestle with the fact that the experience of God’s people is that God appears to contradict the divine promises and fail to live by the covenant boundaries that God has set. Look at Zephaniah 1: 18: “in the fire of his passion the whole earth shall be consumed; for a full and terrible end he will make of all the inhabitants of the earth”. Here is direct prophetic announcement that God intends to overthrow the promises made under the Noahic covenant never to destroy the earth again. Until we understand the exile as an apparent and clear contradiction of Yahweh’s promises to the people, made particularly to and through David, we fail to understand the crisis of faith the exiles produced and the need to understand God afresh.
The delay of the parousia is the New Testament equivalent of the exilic crisis. Jesus had clearly promised to return in the lifetime of his hearers. We have been reading 1 Thessalonians, and seeing the struggles of one of the earliest Christian communities to cope with the non-fulfilment of divine promises. This week’s text has the well-known verse about the day of the Lord coming “as a thief in the night” (5:2). The passage echoes the prophetic warning against complacency and the warning of sudden, imminent and unexpected destruction (v3). Ironically (in the light of last week’s parable where Jesus does not criticise the sleepers), Paul uses the image of staying awake as a metaphor for being prepared. People of the night sleep in a drunken stupor: Christians, by contrast, are people of the day – of the Light. He uses this contrast as a pun on “sleep”: there is such a thing as appropriate sleep, but it is “falling asleep (ie dying) in Christ” (v10).
Paul echoes the prophetic dynamic in trying to cope with the unpredictability and shock of a God who apparently fails to keep the divine word: the conviction that God is ultimately about salvation, not destruction. Paul puts it in terms of God “not destining us for wrath but for salvation though our Lord Jesus Christ” (v9). Zephaniah’s prophecy ends with the oracle of salvation and restoration (3: 16ff). We need to be clear, though, that this is an act of faith. The evidence of experience is that God is not true to the covenant, and to divine promises. While Scripture affirms the constancy and consistency of Yahweh, Yahweh is sovereignly free to act in ways that shock, disturb and shatter faith – particularly a faith that has become complacent. Yahweh is a God who will not be put into any kind of box. True faith, then, is to hang on to the conviction that God is ultimately about the business of salvation, not destruction; of grace, not condemnation; that, as Paul says elsewhere, God can use all things – even the most terrifying and apparently self-contradictory – to work together for good.
If the texts are at such pains to warn us against thinking we know God and have God taped, we ought not to be so surprised at the parable of the talents, in which Jesus likens God to a money-grabbing bully. Let’s look at the parable more closely. Most exegesis is at pains to deny the possibility that the master is the character described by the third slave who hides the talent in the ground – the “harsh man, reaping where he does not sow, and gathering where he does not scatter seed” (v24). An unscrupulous businessman, in other words, who profits not from his own hard labour or investment. Most exegetes make much of the fact that, while the master does not dispute this analysis, he merely hoists the slave on the logic of his own argument: “If that is the kind of man you think I am, surely logic dictates that you would have invested the money, rather than burying it, so that I would at least have got a return on my investment?” The Catholic scholar, Larry Broding, has pointed out that a number of factors in the parable militate against letting the master off so lightly.
- The rabbis taught that no one could be condemned for burying money for safe-keeping. It was prudent stewardship because it was risk-free. Inflation in the ancient world was unthinkable. Money retained its buying power from generation to generation. The slave had not cheated his master out of income by failing to bank the money so that it could accrue interest. The master’s anger at the slave would sound shocking and unfair to Jewish ears, and his condemnation harsh and unjust.
- Jesus’ parable would have raised immediate suspicions of theft, shady dealing and exploitation among his hearers in a way that it doesn’t to us. The eight talents given to the slaves are an enormous sum of money – nearly £2 million by today’s standards. Contemporaries of Jesus believed all the wealth of the world was limited and the distribution of riches was preordained. In addition, the economic systems of the ancient world existed for many generations and had grown rigid over time. Conspicuous wealth – particularly gained over a relatively short time – would normally only be possible by shady means. While someone could quickly amass a fortune, the general populace suspected that person of theft, bribery, or extortion. In a culture wary of change, only the devious and immoral could rise up the economic ladder.
- There is a strong suggestion in the parable that the master is a foreigner, and that he is returning home for a while (for a long time – v19 – an obvious reference in the Matthean community to the delayed return of Jesus). As non-Jews, he and the slaves could lend money at exorbitant rates and enforce repayment. Given the fixed nature of the economy, the fact that the first two slaves are able to double the money while the master is away serves only to reinforce the message to Jesus’ contemporaries that this was done by foul means rather than by fair. The third slave, by contrast, acts as a good Jew would, who is both a faithful steward and concerned to conduct business dealings within the law.
- In this context, the slave’s description of his master makes perfect sense. The master and the slaves were precisely the sort of exploitative lenders so hated by the Jewish populace for their unfair business practices that amounted to theft.
Here lies the shock value of Jesus’ parable: Jesus appears to commend the unscrupulous amassing of wealth as precisely the sort of “waiting” and faithful stewardship appropriate to the kingdom! How, then, might his hearers have understood what he was saying?
If we look in Matthew’s gospel for clues, the nearest we find is the parable of the sower (Matthew 13: 18-23), which, like this, is a parable of increase. We are justified in drawing a parallel between the two parables because there is no doubt that in both, the increase is due to the power of the Word in the hearts and lives of the hearers as a result of the preaching of the gospel. Yet we are still left with the problem of the unscrupulous methods employed by the slaves in the parable of the talents.
What Jesus appears to commend in the parable is the single-minded determination of the first two slaves to take every opportunity to maximise their opportunity for using the time while the master is away to get a “return” on what they have been entrusted with. This is interpreted (within the logic of the parable) as a sign of fidelity. The slaves are rewarded identically, not because of the different amounts that they raise, but because of the fact that the “yield of the harvest” is, in both cases, a hundredfold. They have been willing to take risks for the sake of kingdom.
Once we grant that Jesus is being deliberately outrageous and setting out to shock, the point of the parable emerges even more strongly. The fall guy” in the story is the prudent, self-righteous Jew. For a start, the Matthean community was probably made up of precisely the sort of people with a past like that of the slaves and their master. They were scorned and sneered at by the Jewish establishment. There is a certain black humour, then, in Jesus telling such an outrageous story of inverted righteousness – especially as this belongs to the block of Jesus’ teaching in which he has roundly condemned the Pharisees.
Jesus uses dramatic irony to commend the sort of passionate risk-taking and commitment that he expects of the disciples during the time of waiting. This is not a time for prudent burying. The kingdom is not for a small, select group like the Essenes, who waited in the desert, withdrawing from society and keeping themselves “pure” and untainted. The gospel is supposed to be salt and light and yeast. The followers of Jesus are not to be withdrawn from society and the world, but to “get out there” and do the job of sowing the seed – or investing the money – so that it will yield huge increases.
Jesus, then, stands in the prophetic tradition that does not shirk the fact that God is frequently experienced as shocking. What God has done in his own ministry, after all, has shocked and scandalised the religious leaders of his day. Time and time again, Jesus has provoked the reaction, “God is not supposed to act like that!” - no more so than in the days since his entry into Jerusalem! Furthermore, he stands in the tradition that affirms that, however shocking and unpalatable God’s actions may sometimes appear to be (or his own, if the context is his non-appearance), God’s purposes in so acting are good, not evil. Faith in these contexts is a risk – and the risk is to be embraced wholeheartedly. When it is, the disciples discover that, however small their faith was to start with, it grows. By contrast, those who will not risk their faith and their lives for the kingdom find that even what they start with withers away, atrophies and dies. That’s how it is with Jesus and the kingdom.
Amen.
21:45 Posted in 1 Thessalonians , Matthew , Year A , Zephaniah | Permalink | Comments (2) | Email this
Monday, 31 October 2005
Pentecost 25
Amos 5: 18-24 NRSV text
I Thessalonians 4: 13-18 NRSV text
Matthew 25: 1-13 NRSV text
It seems from the parable of the wise and foolish bridesmaids (or virgins) that late, late opening hours for corner shops are nothing new! The foolish bridesmaids are able to nip down to the shop at midnight and buy oil to trim their lamps. I also find myself bridling (or should that be spelled “bridalling”?) at the attitude of the wise bridesmaids who appear remarkably selfish in their unwillingness to share their oil. But both of these observations miss the point of the parable, unique to Matthew, which is clearly to warn and encourage the listeners to be ready for the unexpected arrival of the bridegroom. It belongs with the preceding parable of the wicked slave, who sees the delay of the master’s return (24:48) as an excuse for drunkenness and abuse of those under him. In both parables, the watchful and the faithful are rewarded, while the wicked and the unprepared are excluded.
The gospel passage belongs to the block of Jesus’ teaching on the imminent destruction of Jerusalem. The problem for the early church and beyond has always been that Jesus links his own return with this event (24:30ff) – something he expected within the lifetime of at least some of his hearers (24:34). The destruction of Jerusalem happened in AD70; the second coming has not happened, even after 2000 years! Jesus was right about Jerusalem and the imminence of its destruction; he was quite straightforwardly wrong about his imminent return. I say “straightforwardly” because the clear reading of the discourse (and its parallel in Mark 13) is that Jesus expected to return in the lifetime of his hearers. That is what his listeners believed. It was what was conveyed to the churches and became part of the apostolic preaching. It is what Paul had told the Thessalonians – and now some of them were dying! Crisis point! Did this mean that those who died were lost? Was their death a sign that they were “outside” – among the foolish bridesmaids and wicked servants? Paul writes to reassure them that this is not so. But the non-return of Jesus constituted a crisis and resultant rethinking of faith and theology that has its closest Old Testament parallel in the exile.
We can’t doubt, therefore, that the “straightforward” reading of the text is the one that Jesus intended. It is fascinating to look at the exegetical history of the passage, and the attempts to “rescue” Jesus by making him say something less straightforward than he did. It is also sobering to see the crisis of faith this brings on for some people. “If Jesus was wrong about the date of his return, how can we trust that anything he said is right?” When we encounter this sort of disturbance in ourselves and others, then we have some idea of how the Thessalonians (and no doubt most other Christians) were feeling! What are we to do with what Jesus said, if the immediate historical referent for his return has passed?
Let me say that I have personally always found Jimmy Dunn’s explanation for Jesus’ error helpful. He maintains that it is the intensity of Jesus’ prophetic, eschatological vision that misleads him about the time frame. Jesus hadn’t a date for these things (24:36), but the clarity of his vision was such that there could be no doubt that the destruction of Jerusalem was clearly just around the corner for him. And he was right! If the same intensity was there for him with regard to his return, then it is perfectly conceivable that he conflated the two events – mistakenly. In other words, we are left with precisely the option that the early church took: to understand the present as a time of “waiting for the bridegroom” and mission. I personally believe that Jesus will return, and that there will be a specific moment or time when this world will be transformed into the kingdom. Other Christians believe that we ought to interpret his “return” allegorically or symbolically, rather than as an event in time and space parallel to the incarnation. In terms of its significance, we end up in precisely the same place and details about what, when and how are supremely unimportant – and we’re never anywhere other than in the realm of best guesses, anyhow! Waiting is not passive and empty: it is about active preparation, faithful mission, and eager watchfulness.
What I do not think sustainable is the “Last Days” eschatology of Hal Lindsey and others, who build a theology of the second coming, the “rapture” of the church, the “tribulation” and the millennial rule of Christ on the founding of the State of Israel. This a fundamentalist “rescue Jesus”-type understandings of eschatology that simply doesn’t add up. It’s basis is that the “Last Days” began with the founding of the State of Israel in 1948, and that this was the fulfilment of the last prophecy needed to trigger the “Last Things”. It was the “beginning of the end”. The clock started ticking. “This generation” (ie post-1948) is the one to whom Jesus was really speaking in the gospel reading. And if a biblical generation is 40 years, then any world time after the 1980s is an unexpected bonus! For them, the passage is all about getting straight with God, because the end and judgment are just around the corner. It is also these Christians who link the end times with the restoration of the Jerusalem temple. They long for the destruction of the mosque on the Dome of the Rock and the restoration of the Jewish temple – because it will trigger the second coming of the messiah and Armageddon – the destruction of the world as we know it. They wait with unholy glee for this cataclysm, and sponsor the Israeli government to take ever more oppressive measures against the Palestinians. But they are absolutely wrong – for no other reason than that the “Last Days” began not in 1948 with the restoration of Israel, but with the resurrection of Jesus! That is the clear teaching of the New Testament. We are no more or less the “terminal Generation” (to use one of Lindsey’s book titles) than any generation before us.
The compilers of the lectionary have linked today’s gospel reading not only with 1 Thessalonians (which is an obvious and important link to make because it is about “waiting” and not fearing) but also with Amos 5. This introduces a new element for reflection: what is it that we are expecting from God? What is it that Jesus’ return will accomplish? As I see it, Christians who await mayhem and the destruction of others and the world, on the one hand, and their own vindication on the other, have failed utterly to understand what God is doing in Jesus. They are like Amos’ audience who long for the day of the Lord for the wrong reasons. Israel had become corrupt. They saw their election as a divine insurance policy that guaranteed that they were “on God’s side”. The day of the Lord would be their vindication. But they had forgotten that Yahweh is a God of justice and therefore of community. Yahweh’s will is the flourishing of all – not just of some, at the expense of others. Yahweh’s deliverance of the people from the slave pits of Pharaoh was so that they could establish a kingdom of righteousness and peace, where there was “no sorrow, or crying, or death, or pain”. It would therefore be a place where the needs of the very least were met. It would be a place where all would flourish.
Because Israel isn’t like that, says Amos, the people are in for a rude awakening. The day of the Lord will be a day of darkness and destruction because Yahweh was going to destroy the systems that enslaved people, kept them poor and prevented their flourishing. Remember that the deliverance cycle in Exodus ends with the Hebrews looking at the dead Egyptians on the seashore (Exodus 14:30). The Hebrews have been delivered and the entire slave system has been destroyed. It is the work of Yahweh. This, says Amos, is the character of the God who has delivered them. God’s will and work is to establish justice that is as secure as a river that doesn’t fail – even in the dry season!
Eschatology is not about the calculation about dates, or arguments over how to predict what it might all look like from the symbol-laden language and imagery of the Bible. It is part of the answer of “How should we then live?” Christian eschatology is intensely political because it belongs within the category of prophecy – which is not essentially prediction, but about announcing God’s character and will for justice and peace. It is rooted in God’s promises of salvation for this world. It teaches us, therefore, how to “live in the waiting”. Note that Jesus does not condemn the bridesmaids for sleeping. This isn’t a spur to frenetic activity. Waiting for the groom, at weddings in Jesus’ day, was not about twiddling one’s thumbs, tutting about the tardiness of the groom. It was about active preparation for a banquet and celebration that went on for several days. There was a time to rest during the preparations. When the groom arrived, the wedding began. And in the parable, the groom doesn’t recognise the foolish bridesmaids because they weren’t there, welcoming the groom upon his arrival at the wedding and the start of the festivities.
What sort of activity is “waiting” for the Church? It is surely about mission – the work of the kingdom. It is about preparing the world as the place for the marriage feast of the Son. It’s mission in all its facets. To wait for the return of Christ and long for it is to pray with all earnestness “Your Kingdom come; your will be done on earth” and to get on and do it – however long the wait.
Amen
15:07 Posted in 1 Thessalonians , Amos , Matthew , Year A | Permalink | Comments (4) | Email this