Category Archives: parables
I do not think it means what you think it means
The Kingdom of God is upside down compared to the kingdoms of this world. Worldly kingdoms are all about power and wealth. They use violence and coercion to obtain more of both. God’s Kingdom is about love and service.
Jesus’ parable of the minas in Luke 19:11-27 is normally interpreted as a set of instructions for good stewardship. The noble, we’re told, represents Jesus who goes away for a long time leaving his slaves to invest for him. He comes back, congratulates the two that made a lot of money, rebukes the one who buried it, and slaughters those who didn’t want him to rule over them.
I think that’s entirely mistaken.
Authoritarian figures in Jesus’ parables either act badly like everyone listening would expect them to, or the opposite of what would normally happen in real life. When they act as one would expect, Jesus’ message is, the Kingdom of God is not like this. When they act contrary to the world, his message is, this is what the Kingdom of God looks like. A king sends people out into the back alleys to bring lame, poor, blind, broken people to his banquet. No worldly king does that, but God does. That’s a picture of the Kingdom of God. Here, we have the opposite.
The noble in this parable acts exactly like rulers did. In fact, he acts exactly like Pilate. Pilate traveled to Rome to get more authority from Caesar. The Jews sent delegations to Rome to complain about him and ask that he be removed from authority (v. 14,27). Pilate slaughtered dissenters, mixing their blood with their sacrifices. That was recent history. All of Jesus’ listeners were aware of Pilate’s despicable actions. The parable’s noble is nothing like God, nothing like Jesus. He’s like Pilate, whom Jesus will face within the week.
When Rome came down on Israel (64-73 AD), those who opposed Roman rule were ruthlessly slaughtered. Jesus saw it coming and wept over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41-44). When Jesus comes again, he will not physically slaughter anybody.
I know. Revelation 19. Look at it closely – Jesus returns wearing a robe dipped in his own blood before any battle takes place. In the “battle,” only flesh is destroyed. Deny yourself, take up your cross, crucify the flesh with its affections and lusts. Jesus symbolically “slays” with his word, the sword of his mouth. Revelation is poetic, symbolic, apocryphal literature.
Immediately after Jesus’ parable of the minas is the triumphal entry. Jesus is placed in stark contrast to Pilate. Pilate, the empire’s representative, rides into Jerusalem from the west on a war horse surrounded by 600 armed soldiers. Jesus rides into Jerusalem from the east on a donkey’s colt surrounded by peasants waving palms. The Kingdom of God is the opposite of the Empire.
In the parable, Jesus is saying, “Here’s a picture of Empire. The Kingdom of God is nothing like this.”
So, what about the investors? One guy doubles the noble’s money; another makes a hefty 50% profit. The third buries it and gives it back. I was taught this means we all have gifts and resources we’re supposed to use wisely until Jesus comes back. I’m all for good stewardship, but that’s not what Jesus is teaching here.
Jesus is in Jericho. Zacchaeus, the hated, wealthy, traitorous tax-farmer has just had a radical heart-change. Embracing jubilee, he gives away half his wealth and publicly offers 4-fold restitution to anyone he’s defrauded. He’s free of mammon. Not missing a beat, Jesus goes on to share the story of minas.
Three slaves are owned by a brutal ruler who is seeking more worldly power. Two sycophants are commended for making more money. A third sees the noble for what he is and refuses to participate. He is condemned for not putting the money to interest. Usury is strictly forbidden the Law of Moses. Amassing wealth is impossible if you’re practicing Jubilee.
This parable is not teaching us to adopt the ways of the world, be good business people, and support an authoritarian despot who slaughters people who simply want justice. That’s Rome. That’s Pilate. That’s people who support Rome and Pilate.
The commendable person in this parable is the servant who buried the money. He refused to practice usury, refused to go along with a harsh despot, refused to participate in the worldly empire and its ways of doing things.
Living as Jesus taught is not at all practical. If you sell all you have and give to the poor, who’s going to support you in your old age? If you turn the other cheek, you may be victimized. If you stand up for justice, somebody might mix your blood with your sacrifice. If you don’t practice good capitalistic business practices, somebody else may wind up with your wealth.
In the parable of the minas, Jesus is giving us a picture of exactly what the Kingdom of God does not look like. In the Kingdom of God, resources are shared so no one lives in want. In God’s Kingdom, the wealthy don’t get wealthier while the poor get poorer. People in the Kingdom of God behave like redeemed Zacchaeus, not like Pilate. Servants in empires support corruption and are attracted to power and money. Servants in God’s Kingdom see empires and rulers for who they are and refuse to participate. They are generous, forgiving, and kind; they bring good news to the poor, wash feet, feed the hungry, welcome strangers, house the homeless, heal the sick and visit the incarcerated. We wave palms, not swords. Our King rides a donkey and is crowned with thorns. His throne is a cross.
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Luke 19 NRSVUE
19 He entered Jericho and was passing through it. 2 A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. 3 He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. 4 So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. 5 When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.” 6 So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. 7 All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.”8 Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” 9 Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he, too, is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”
11 As they were listening to this, he went on to tell a parable, because he was near Jerusalem and because they supposed that the kingdom of God was to appear immediately. 12 So he said, “A nobleman went to a distant region to receive royal power for himself and then return. 13 He summoned ten of his slaves and gave them ten pounds and said to them, ‘Do business with these until I come back.’ 14 But the citizens of his country hated him and sent a delegation after him, saying, ‘We do not want this man to rule over us.’ 15 When he returned, having received royal power, he ordered these slaves to whom he had given the money to be summoned so that he might find out what they had gained by doing business. 16 The first came forward and said, ‘Lord, your pound has made ten more pounds.’ 17 He said to him, ‘Well done, good slave! Because you have been trustworthy in a very small thing, take charge of ten cities.’ 18 Then the second came, saying, ‘Lord, your pound has made five pounds.’ 19 He said to him, ‘And you, rule over five cities.’ 20 Then the other came, saying, ‘Lord, here is your pound. I wrapped it up in a piece of cloth, 21 for I was afraid of you, because you are a harsh man; you take what you did not deposit and reap what you did not sow.’ 22 He said to him, ‘I will judge you by your own words, you wicked slave! You knew, did you, that I was a harsh man, taking what I did not deposit and reaping what I did not sow? 23 Why, then, did you not put my money into the bank? Then when I returned, I could have collected it with interest.’ 24 He said to the bystanders, ‘Take the pound from him and give it to the one who has ten pounds.’ 25 (And they said to him, ‘Lord, he has ten pounds!’) 26 ‘I tell you, to all those who have, more will be given, but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. 27 But as for these enemies of mine who did not want me to rule over them—bring them here and slaughter them in my presence.’”
a fish tale
Not through any lack of seamanship had she become encased, imprisoned, in ice. Unpredicted by any of the computer models, a radical wind-shift, a sudden plunge in temperatures, unseen currents combined in a rapid ambush to quick-freeze ship and crew in an icy hell. Her hull was double steel, as sturdy as it is possible to make an Antarctic explorer, but the marine architect’s best materials are no match for the crushing power of moving ice. She would crumple like an aluminum can. The choice before them now – wait it out, yearning for rescue before the crush, or set out across mile after mile of horizontal glacier in the slight hope of reaching a weather station. Here, all is white – sun’s rays and eyebrows, ice sheets and ocean foam in the distance.
Here, the legendary albino cachalot is rumored to dive 3,000 meters in search of its arch enemy, the colossal squid. Deep below the frozen surface, the monsters clash in mortal combat. For decades – legends say for centuries – one particular white whale wins battle after battle, scarred and bloodied, he breaches for air after nearly drowning in the squid’s grasp, the enemy’s 20-foot-long tentacles clinging to his mouth with suction cups that don’t know they are dead. He is said to have stowed ships of old, sending harpooners by the scores to Davey Jones’ Locker. Poseidon reincarnated, at war with humans, destroyers of the seas. Every piece of plastic, every drop of oil, every spewing pipe and deafening explosion angered him more, made him more determined to eradicate the horrid species.
Unaware of the beast’s presence below, the crew waits. Fuel exhausted, generators dead, no sign of rescue. Bundled against the 60, 70, 80-below zero temperatures where winds blow unobstructed for leagues, they set out. The ship was still in sight when they heard the metal crunch and watched her slump sideways on her frozen death bed. Day after day. Fatigue. Boredom. Too numb to be afraid, they trudge, march, led by sun, stars, and compass. Is there still a weather station ahead? How long? Weeks, at least.
An engineer’s mate was the first to drop. The stupor lasted only minutes before his breathing ceased and his skin turned blue. Silently, they stripped the body of useful objects – ice axe, knife, socks. The scene repeated – one a day, two or three a day. The survivor party weakened, diminished. Those remaining starred at each other through vacant eyes. Now there were three – the captain, a seasoned salt as tough as iron; a strapping young deckhand, and the associate chief scientist who defied her femininity with a combination of keen intellect and dogged determination. Mile after mile, day after day, no structure in sight. Nothing but ice and sky.
She heard the men plotting to kill and eat her body. From then on, she walked behind so she could see them. She slept with a hand gripping her hunting knife – half her brain awake at all times, like the behemoth who ruled the seas. But she was sound asleep as the sun glared sideways across the frozen surface and the hunters approached their prey, knives drawn, stepping lightly, softly, insane with hunger and cold.
A massive roar, exploding shards of ice the size of ships, salt water erupting high in the air as if bombed from above – the massive white sperm whale erupted like a volcano through the ice, breached high, and with its massive weight, crushed captain and deckhand just as they were raising their knives to kill her.
She screamed awake and sat dazed staring into the massive eye of the whale four feet in front of her. Although the monster was slashed with scars, several harpoons sticking from its hide, dorsal fin nicked and misshapen, its eye was soft, somehow gentle, and even seemed to carry empathy, care.
Trembling, she stood, gingerly walked to the beast, stroked his side, and with her knife carefully surgically removed the harpoons. It must have hurt the whale, but he did not flinch. It was as if he knew the surgeon cut only to heal. They looked at each other with mutual gratitude. They were one.
Jubilee
Zacchaeus
To some degree, I suppose I inherited it – my aptitude for business, that is. After all, my father was known as a shrewd businessman who always seemed to be able to come out on top regardless of the economic conditions. As far back as I can remember, I wanted to make him proud.
And make him proud I did, especially when I won the tax-farming contract. I instinctively sensed that more could be squeezed from these peasants, these workaday people who were obviously not as smart as we were. If they were, would they be living in those little huts? Listening to those high and mighty religious leaders; stupid enough to give them their money. Idiots.
Dad threw a party in my honor when I won the contract, recruited a hoard of tax collectors, revenue men, and assigned them territories. Everyone who was anybody was there.
“Ingenious,” dad called me in his toast, because the ways and means of taxing everything seemed to pop into my head spontaneously. Once I got on a roll, the ideas came in spurts day and night, even in my dreams – tax them to travel the roads – any road, all roads; tax income, tax land, tax trees, tax the carts, the donkeys, the grain for planting and the harvest when reaped; tax their houses; penalize them for not making repairs, then tax the repairs; tax goods on their way to market and goods bought at market, goods imported and exported, inherited and bequeathed; tax the clothing they made, the clothing they sold, the clothing they bought, the wool they spun, the goats they milked, and the sheep they sheered. I had them coming and going. We taxed people to protect them from the authorities, to guard their businesses, to safeguard their homes. They couldn’t breathe without being taxed by one of my guys.
And I got a cut – I won’t say what percentage, but it was sizeable – of every tax levied and collected.
If they didn’t pay? Well, let’s just say, all of a sudden, some homes and businesses would be broken into, the residents roughed-up, and their possessions stolen. Or maybe suddenly the authorities would start harassing some uppity cheapskate. Sometimes, every now and then, a person would turn up dead or a house would mysteriously burn down. The fear of God, you know.
Pretty soon, I did nothing but collect the money. Once in while, one of my taxmen would try to cheat me and I would bribe a couple of soldiers to make them disappear.
Huge mansion – everything money can buy. But lonely. Everybody hated me. They feared me, but they despised me. Oh, sure, there were plenty of sycophants who kissed up and fawned over me, flattered me, but it was obvious it was all fake. They too hated me. Behind my back, they mocked me. Their eyes betrayed their real feelings.
The area was all abuzz. A miracle-working rabbi traveling the land – healing the sick, even raising the dead. I dismissed it all as plebian nonsense, but the reports kept piling in, even from people who normally don’t make stuff up. Then I heard he was headed this way.
Everybody, and I mean literally everybody – young, old, sick, well, women, children, men – they were all surging out to where he would reportedly be passing by.
My curiosity got the best of me. But as I headed out with the crowd, people threw me those looks, bumped into me hard when I wasn’t looking, cursed me under their breath. To be honest, I started to be afraid that the mob would kill me, trample me under foot and deny having ever seen me.
Outside of town was one of those huge, broad-leafed sycamore trees. I’m short, so I likely couldn’t see over the crowd anyway, and, frankly, I just wanted to see him without being seen, so I scrambled up and hid in the leaves, safe, nestled in my perch.
Shit! He’s coming towards me, the crowd surging along. Did he spot me? If so, I’m a goner. He’s a rabbi. He’ll quote some Bible verses to condemn me, demand some sort of surrender, and turn me over to the mob for stone-justice.
He does see me. He’s looking right at me. My heart is beating in my throat.
He calls me by name. How did he know my name? I guess the crowd told him. I guess one of them spotted me climbing up, told him the notorious tax-farmer was treed, and sicked him on me. How am I going to get out of this one? Should have stayed in the villa behind the locked gates with the bodyguards.
Did I hear right? Am I seeing things?
He is smiling at me all friendly like. Says he wants to eat dinner at my house!
You know the custom – when a prominent rabbi visits a town, he eats dinner at a communitywide banquet in his honor with all the religious people and the important officials. If he comes home with me, he will insult them all. Not that he hasn’t already insulted them simply by not publically condemning me. They never would have shown him where I was sequestered in my tree if they had known that.
Something snapped inside me. Maybe it is because no one – not my father, not my employees, not my siblings, not my mother (whom I barely knew before dad threw her out) – no one was ever this kind to me. He never condemned me. Never judged me. Never spoke an unkind word. Didn’t browbeat me with Bible verses. And, he really seemed to enjoy the dinner. He drank my wine with gusto, helped himself to seconds, told stores and laughed at jokes.
And those eyes – there was something in his eyes. I know it now – divine, everlasting, unconditional, nonjudgmental love and acceptance.
I had never before known joy. I had never before felt a light heart, danced spontaneously, or felt empathy for anyone, but now I felt what they felt and longed to join them in their huts and around their fires.
He moved on.
It was a delight, a genuine joy, to give away fully half of everything I owned. The people were suspicious. I don’t blame them. I had quite a reputation. They thought I was drunk or insane when I went to the poorest of them and gave away bags of gold. I paid for weddings, for barrels of wine and olive oil, for cemetery plots and burial expenses. I bought new clothes for the tattered.
Then, I went through our records. I kept impeccable accounts. I deeded land to widows, contracted to have houses built for the homeless, purchased livestock for the peasants, and tried my best to figure out who I had defrauded, at least those I had most defrauded, because, God knows, I probably defrauded almost everybody. As best I could, I made restitution to those I had cheated, not by repaying them, but by quadrupling what I had taken.
And, most significantly, I quit my job and moved into a very modest little house where I set up a little business advising people on how to pay only as much tax as they had to.
I can’t describe the feeling! Freedom! Jubilee!
FREEDOM
Freedom
Mark 12:41 [Jesus] sat down opposite the treasury and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. 43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” (NRSVUE)
Such amazing freedom this impoverished widow had –
Clinging to nothing, but rather,
Freely giving all to God, knowing
God would take care of her.
As free as the birds of the air and
The lilies in the fields.
In times past, I pictured her old, bent, in rags,
Walking with a cane; but now I see her as
Ageless, happy, joyous, stepping lightly with
Sparkles in her eyes, full of peaceful contentment.
I like to imagine the women who were always with
Jesus rushing to her with love, embraces, and joy –
Taking her into the fold – this widow now joining the
Disciples at Jesus’ feet, learning and loving; with
Him at the Passover Seder, aghast at the mock trials,
Weeping at the scourging post and the cross;
Dancing with the risen King,
Aflame in the upper room.
a film review
A Film Called First Reformed
My son turned me on to a deep movie. All really good art lends itself to a variety of interpretations. The film First Reformed is one such work of art.
Trigger alert: It is dark, at times surreal, and contains a graphic suicide scene. It’s also brilliant.
The Plot:
First Reformed is a 2017 American drama film written and directed by Paul Schrader staring Ethan Hawke, Amanda Seyfried, and Cedric Kyles.
It’s the story of a divorced, bereaved, isolated, 46-year-old pastor of an historic colonial era Dutch Reformed church in upstate New York. The church building is well-preserved, but has become not much more than a museum. The pastor, a former military chaplain who talked his son into joining the army only to learn he was killed in action a few months later, is struggling with probable gastrointestinal cancer and self-medicating his pain with alcohol.
The surrounding countryside is stark, cold, and bleak. Old gravestones, barren trees, dirty cars, empty spaces. The soundtrack is often more the moan of a dying creation than lyrical. Traditional hymns about the comfort and transformative power of Christ are interspersed.
First Reformed church is supported by a megachurch called Abundant Life that is itself buoyed by the large donations of an industrialist who denies climate change and pollutes the environment. Abundant Life never challenges the sins of its financiers.
Mary, one of only a handful of congregants at First Reformed, is pregnant and married to an environmental activist who is filled with existential angst over humanity’s destruction of the planet. A central theme: “Will God forgive us for destroying his creation?” In despair, Mary’s husband commits suicide in spite of the pastor’s counsel.
Later, she and the pastor share an out-of-body experience in which they see the beauty of creation and what humans have done to it. It is beautiful and surreal, transcending space-time.
The combination of his struggle with the relevance of his faith in the light of human greed, his physical sickness, the loss of his son and then his marriage, leads the pastor to the brink of destroying himself and the church at the church’s 250th anniversary celebration, which is attended by the industrialist, the governor, and the megachurch pastor, among many others. Seeing Mary entering the building, he quickly decides against mass destruction and opts for intense self-flagellation. Mary enters, they kiss passionately, and the screen goes black.
Some Thoughts:
The lead pastor of the megachurch is a good man. He wants his church to do good things to help people. But, to keep it solvent, he compromises truth so as not to offend his biggest donor.
Abundant Life is huge and modern, but in the film, is never abundant. Its choir has four members; its youth group has maybe a dozen. When we see it, it is always mostly empty, just like its theology.
Mary’s husband is kind, caring, and brilliant. Everything he researches and reports is well substantiated. He sees no hope for humanity, no hope for the planet.
The protagonist is struggling with existential anguish. He is grieving the loss of his marriage, feels guilty over the death of his son, is sick with probable cancer, and is alone. He hates being nothing more than a docent, and longs to be relevant in the world. He reads Thomas Merton and G.K. Chesterton, and keeps a journal. The parsonage in which he lives is almost void of furniture. It is dark and empty, like him.
Mary is pregnant, like the Mary in the nativity stories. She alone has hope. She agrees with her husband’s conclusions, but still wants to bring her baby boy into the world. Like the Virgin Mary, she brings light into darkness, hope into despair. At the very end of the film, her love saves and redeems the pastor.
So many lessons:
- Speak truth to power. Ignore the budget.
- Stand for justice.
- Steward God’s creation.
- Eschew violence. In the end, it accomplishes nothing.
- Let yourself love and be loved.
- Love is redemptive.
- Love brings hope.
- Love conquers despair.
- The industrialist lost his way through greed.
- The megachurch pastor lost his way through success.
- Mary’s husband lost his way by abandoning hope.
- The pastor of First Reformed lost his way through grief.
- Mother Mary never lost her way.
Discernment
Soft, warm, gentle, long-lasting,
First rain of Spring, soaking, softening the
Hard and cracked soil as
Earth takes a long, slow, deep
Drink and her flowers, grasses,
Bushes and trees absorb water and minerals.
Life. Soon, leaves, buds, flowers, fruit.
So comes the good spirit.
Blasting wind, icy torrents slicing, biting,
Snapping weighed down branches.
Shingles fly, villages lose power,
Topsoil washes away as
Creek banks cave in and
Basements flood.
Death. Destruction, chill, ruin.
So comes the evil spirit.
The Word in Focus with Dr Larry Taylor 