[Pentecost+20] "worthless slaves"?

Jesus said: "Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'? Would you not rather say to the slave, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!' "

-Luke 17:7-10 (NRSV, alt.)

On Sunday, Jeff suggested that "anyone who owns slaves will make a slave of themselves" -- that when we treat people who serve us so poorly, we will expect God to treat us likewise.

We stayed on this theme at Tuesday night's Bible study -- reflecting on the fact that if everyone mistreats those who are "below" them, that way lies disaster because each of us is "below" someone else.

And not just people who are, e.g., subordinates to you at work -- but what about when you're driving and someone cuts you off and you yell at them and then you cut someone else off and yell at them for going too slowly? Do we grant ourselves exceptions we are unwilling to grant others?

Jeff said that while translations often identify Jesus as a "carpenter," the Greek tekton means a builder, a laborer -- in our parlance perhaps a construction worker. Does this change our perception of Jesus? The skilled labor of a carpenter seems to me to fit nicely with a wisdom teacher, specifically the kind of clean, almost ethereal wisdom teacher we often see depicted in artwork. Does Jesus as a construction worker, oppressed by Roman occupation and debt slavery, make Jesus more approachable to those of us like Kyle (a Burger King worker who shared testimony on Sunday morning) who are working hard, in labor that isn't always valued and certainly isn't always fairly compensated?

Liz D. told a story in her confessional liturgy of eating out at a McDonald's with her family and buying dinner for someone who had been begging. She recounted that someone else in line had disparagingly informed her that this beggar was there every night with the same request.

If someone is at a McDonald's every night asking for money for food, perhaps the problem isn't with that person but with the system.

The revised Common Lectionary begins this passage 2 verses earlier -- with the apostles asking for more faith and Jesus saying that faith even the size of a mustard seed is sufficient -- so a lot of the commentaries for the day connected those two portions.

Drawing on passages from preceding chapters in Luke, John Petty sets the background of this passage as Jesus' concern for "the destitute poor, the hopelessly lost, and sinners generally." Petty, writes of this conversation between the apostles and Jesus:

You can see their problem. Jesus has just told them that, in the reign of God, the whole program of the world is up-ended. Forgiveness is the order of every day. The moral categories which are so important to us are completely set aside. Our whole agenda of worthiness and striving is radically subverted. It is, rather, precisely in the weak, the fragile, the "little ones," that the reality of grace is manifest.

"Increase our faith," say the apostles. They are troubled by the upside-down way of God. They cry out for more faith in order to handle their unease, a request which indicates that they still don't get it. The reign of God is not about us increasing anything.

We don't need "more." In fact, if anything, we need "less." We need less striving to get "better," and less addiction to the moral categories of this world. [...]

The gospel itself is a skandalon. Through the death and resurrection of the Lord, all human striving is cancelled out. We experience this as a "scandal." We believe in striving, after all. We believe in trying to become bigger, better, and stronger. We do not understand power made manifest in the weakness of the cross, and we don't particularly like it either.

This is why Jesus does not increase their faith. In fact, faith counts for less than the apostles think. Only a smidgen of it--less than they have now, most likely--and the extraordinary would seem commonplace.

The "answer" is not an "increase" in anything--not even faith. As Robert Capon puts it, "When it comes to faith, they don't have to be winners." The gospel is not at all connected with moral or spiritual success.

Returning to our reading from Sunday, Petty says:

Jesus again strikes at the idea of reward. We don't get rewarded for good behavior--not even spiritual good behavior. The whole idea of "reward" is, itself, a skandalon. We don't get paid back for being swell boys and girls. Our virtue does not obligate God.

You apostles are just doing your job--no more, no less--and even if you screw that up, which you undoubtedly will, I'll keep on accepting you and accepting you and accepting you--totally and completely, every single day--just as I accept all the "little ones," and all the lost.

***

What speaks to you, Beloved, in this passage and these reflections?

Is it the exhortation to treat others as you would hope God would treat you?

Or the reminder that you aren't entitled to any special gifts from God?

Or something else entirely?

You're invited to continue the conversation in the comments, commenting anonymously/pseudonymously if you prefer.