This week our Wednesday evening sessions at church resume. They had been preempted by confirmation classes. But now the bishop has come and gone, and life at church has returned to normal (whatever that means). So this Wednesday we will celebrate Michaelmas with a Eucharist and potluck and discussion. I’ve been so focused on confirmation that I haven’t had much time to plan the discussion, so we will have a few weeks of what went well last year: a close look at the Gospel lesson for the upcoming Sunday.
Fortunately, a Gospel study requires the same preparation as a sermon: translating the passage from Greek, checking context and textual variants and Greek commentary, letting everything rumble around in my head, and writing a blog. If I have time, I may check other commentaries or do some word studies. I’ve also returned to our local clergy study group, only to be reminded that their focus does not often seem to be mine. (Have I ever mentioned that one of them has a habit of inserting comments about Republicans into the lessons when she reads them out loud?)
So how does one approach “We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done”? One clerical colleague suggested that this be paired with the parable where the master returns from the wedding banquet, finds his slaves alert and waiting, and has them sit down so that he can serve them (Luke 12:35 ff). It’s a reversal using a classic preaching move – if you don’t like the passage you’re given, find a related one you like better. To be fair, the good news does involve all of the Gospel, not just the weekly reading. Yet I’d rather sit and struggle with what I’m given.
And what I’m given is a passage about duty. Today, “duty” always seems associated with military service, as in “duty to my country.” It’s a word my parents’ generation knew well in other contexts. Duties were expectations of behavior, moral obligations arising from one’s position in life. There were civic duties, such as voting in elections and serving on boards when asked. There was the moral obligation to attend church and help the needy. There was an expectation of civility in public discourse. All of these “duties” have either vanished or ceased to be obligatory. And thus to preach on duty is to be an anachronism.
But the Gospel passage is not so much about duty as about attitude. It’s about what we expect as a result of what we’ve done. Will we be like the Pharisee who stood next to the tax collector, reminding God of his virtuous life and clearly expecting a better reward than the miserable man nearby? When we do good, do we have a claim on God for what we did? Or should we be giving thanks to God for the grace that enabled us to do good? As one commentator put it, “The disciples are not to seek thanks, but to give thanks.”
“Worthless” in this context is hyperbole. It’s a reminder that there is nothing we can do to earn God’s grace, just as there is no reward for accepting that grace other than being able to sing God’s praises. We are, of course, not worthless at all. We are of incomparable worth as children of God. That worth is freely given, however, and in no way makes us “worthy” of reward.
I expect that Wednesday evening will go well. After taking the summer off, the group that shows up will be glad to see one another again in that intimate context. The food will be good, as usual. And so will the Gospel nourishment. Perhaps that’s the best thing about studying Scripture, no matter what the passage: the focus is not on us, but on God, and God’s relationship with us. Thanks be to God!
Pentecost 19: Luke 17:5-10 is the Gospel. The commentator is I. Howard Marshall, The Gospel of Luke, in the New International Greek Testament Commentary series.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
"There is a true glory and a true honor: the glory of duty done -- the honor of integrity of principle." (R.E. Lee)
But this glory can easily slide over into Pride. I feel very good about myself when I have made it to the end of a day in which I have been faithful to my duties, or when there comes a Sunday in which the music goes fairly well, even though all I have done is my plain and basic duty as a servant of the Lord.
The Gospel's reminder that "We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done" has saved me from this prideful state many times. I say it to myself often; I have sometimes given it as a response to people who come up after the service to tell me how well I played, or how well the choir sang. It usually leaves them puzzled, and is probably not helpful. And it, too, can be a gateway to Pride; I am too good to simply accept a compliment with thanks (and gratefulness that they aren't ripping me/us to shreds because of our shortcomings). So, I probably shouldn't say it out loud -- but it remains helpful as an interior admonition.
Your comments, Fr. Horn, remind me of the parable of the talents and how I always sympathized with the poor servant who buried the money. For not putting his master's money at risk, for returning it whole, good as new, he got worse than nothing. It always seemed so unfair. The third servant is clearly one of the "worthless" sort. He did only what he should have done--not lose the money--and not what a better-than-worthless servant should have done. Or really, should have known instinctively to do--as the servants were not told to go invest.
But--what the heck?! Think of the problems inherent in being a good servant. The first two might have lost the money altogether and had nothing to give back to the master but proof of their own initiative. Castanea_d knows that pride is a temptation for a better-than-worthless servant who does well. Life is fraught with peril. Choices are not clear. Do we err on the safe side or tempt pride?
I'm with St. Augustine: "Love God, and do what you want." That's where instinct makes a reappearance. Instinct: that small, still Voice of God speaking within us.
Or, I'm ready to be corrected by wiser heads than mine.
I have learned to simply say "Thank you" when someone gives me a compliment. It took me a long time to figure out that any attempts on my part to minimize what I did arose from false modesty, not humility. I also like the response, "Thanks be to God!" but I can't pull that off with humility, either.
The parable of the talents is one that seems easily applied today, even though the first century economy was hardly capitalism as we know it. One of the more interesting interpretations is that the master became who he was expected to be. For the the two who thought he was benevolent, he was benevolent. To the one who thought he was ruthless, he became ruthless.
Martin Luther, an avid reader of Augustine, got in trouble when he wrote, "Sin boldly, but believe in Christ more boldly still." That's a part of my Lutheran background I'd just as soon leave behind.
One final thought: some say that the primary sin of men is pride, but the primary sin of women is just the opposite: a conviction of worthlessness. If so, then men and women will have very different responses to the same passage.
Well! There's so much here that you could do a month's worth of blogs on each one of these points! You've given me a lot to think about, both of you. Thanks.
Post a Comment