Luke 17:5-10
October 6, 2013/World Communion Sunday
The musical Wicked which ended its run in Oklahoma
City just a couple of weeks ago is based on a book by Gregory Maguire. It tells the other side of the story, the
Wicked Witch of the West’s side of the story.
The witch isn’t wicked like we’ve all been led to believe, and the
so-called good people like Glinda and the Wizard aren’t so good either. The musical version does what the best of
musicals do. It puts the sentiments of
the story into music. While some of the songs
like Popular and Defying Gravity are better known, one of my favorites is the song Wonderful sung by the Wizard
himself. He’s trying to explain to
Elphaba – that’s the witch’s real name – how he, a humble man, ended up in such
a position of power and influence.
"Wonderful, they called me "Wonderful"
So I said "Wonderful" - if you insist
I will be "Wonderful" And they said "Wonderful"
Believe me, it's hard to resist
'Cause it feels wonderful
They think I'm wonderful
Hey, look who's wonderful -
This corn-fed hick
Who said: "It might be keen to build a town of green
And a wonderful road of yellow brick!"
I will be "Wonderful" And they said "Wonderful"
Believe me, it's hard to resist
'Cause it feels wonderful
They think I'm wonderful
Hey, look who's wonderful -
This corn-fed hick
Who said: "It might be keen to build a town of green
And a wonderful road of yellow brick!"
This
corn-fed hick, as he describes himself, had never been wonderful before, so it
feels wonderful when the people of Oz hail him as a hero, a magician, a
wizard. He takes them at their word. They think he’s wonderful, so by goodness,
he’s wonderful.
Probably
all of us would like to be considered wonderful every once in a while wouldn’t
we? The actress Sally Field has been the
butt of many jokes over the years because of her acceptance speech the night
she won the Oscar for best actress. “You
like me! You really like me!” But don’t we all want to be liked, and even
more than that, don’t we all want to be recognized for our accomplishments, for
our hard work, for even the daily efforts that we make?
I
know I do. I can’t lie to you, when I
get compliments on a sermon or someone thanks me for some pastoral duty that
I’ve done, it makes my day. I can
sympathize with the wizard. When you’re
told you’re wonderful, you want to believe it.
It can go to your head. It’s
intoxicating. It’s wonderful. It’s wonderful to be acknowledged, to be
appreciated, to receive thanks after a hard day’s work.
And
yet this is exactly opposite of what we hear from Jesus in today’s passage from
Luke. This is an uncomfortable
story. First of all we encounter the
word “slave.” Human history is
overflowing with evils that we’ve perpetrated against one another – and I think
slavery is among them. I know slavery
has been a terrible reality for thousands and thousands of years; and as so
many of us in Oklahoma understand, human trafficking is alive and well today. But that doesn’t’ make me any less adamant in
my belief that slavery is a brutal, violent evil. Yet in this passage Jesus speaks of slavery
with seemingly no hesitation. Even if we
translate the Greek word doulos as servant, which is its other meaning, these
words of Jesus still rub me the wrong way.
Shouldn’t a servant be thanked for a job well done?
We
can’t look at this particular passage without looking at the context of
passages it is situated in. This chapter
is made up of lessons from Jesus to his disciples. Jesus has gone from addressing the Pharisees
at the end of chapter16 to speaking directly to his disciples at the beginning
of this chapter. His first lesson to
them is that times of stumbling are going to come, but “woe to anyone by whom
they come.” It was as true then, as it
is today, that there are always “little ones”, people new to the faith or
struggling to follow Jesus. In those
early days of faith or conversion, it can be especially easy to fall from the
path. And this means that other more
seasoned disciples have to be aware of the kinds of examples they set for these
people who are still so young in their faith.
They bear a tremendous responsibility on their shoulders for the
well-being of these faithful but inexperienced “little ones.”
Jesus
tells the disciples that they must hold each other accountable for their
sins. If one of them sins, that person
must be reprimanded for it. However if
that person repents and asks for forgiveness, forgiveness must be given! Even if that person sins against you seven
times, then turns back and repents seven times.
You still must forgive.
It
is the disciples’ response to these first lessons that begins our particular
part of the story. The disciples cry to
Jesus, “Increase our faith!” In other
words this discipleship calling is tough, so tough we may need some extra large
faith in order to handle all of it. We
need more faith to handle the responsibilities.
Otherwise we don’t stand a chance.
But
Jesus replies, “If you had faith as large as a mustard seed – and the word for
“if” used here in the Greek implies that the disciples already have enough
faith – then you could tell that big tree over there to pull up its roots and
jump into the sea. If you have faith
that’s as small as that tiny mustard seed, and you do, trust me you do, then
you can use that seemingly small faith to do great things. Even with a small faith, you can still do big
and wonderful things.
Had
Jesus stopped here, this would have still been a challenging passage, but that
challenge might have felt more manageable.
But Jesus doesn’t stop here. He
goes on to tell them about a master and slave.
When the slave does what’s expected of him, he doesn’t get praise or
thanks. The slave is just doing what
he’s supposed to do. The slave is just
doing what’s required of him on any particular day. He’s just doing his duty.
Now
the interesting twist that Jesus gives to this story is that Jesus moves from
the idea of the disciples and their slaves, to the disciples being slaves of
God. This makes God the slave master,
adding to the discomfort we may feel reading this passage. But whether we choose “slave” or “servant,” it
still doesn’t seem right that the servant receives no thanks, no praise, no
reward for the hard day’s work he’s just put in. Everyone deserves some recognition. We all want to be called wonderful at least
once. We all want to be thanked for what
we do.
But
the point that Jesus is trying to make to his disciples is that being a
disciple is not about receiving thanks.
In fact if you get in it for the thanks, for recognition and reward,
then you’re in it for the wrong reasons and you’re going to have problems. Being a disciple means being an example for
others and assuming responsibility for their welfare and well being. Being a disciple means holding each other
accountable and being willing to forgive.
And being a disciple means doing our duty. It means being a servant that is always
serving without expecting a reward or praise or thanks. Being a disciple means coming before God with
humility, knowing that no matter what we do we’re never truly worthy.
There’s
no denying it, this is not an easy passage.
It seems to contradict other passages where Jesus does tell his
disciples about the reward they’ll receive someday. It seems to go against the stories when Jesus
rewards the faithful steward and promises a healthy bonus for the servants who
invest their talents wisely. So
frustrating and hard to swallow is this parable that one of the early church
fathers, Saint Augustine, found it hard to believe these words were actually
spoken by Jesus.
As
tough as this passage is, it reminds us of one of the most fundamental and
basic tenets of our faith; we can never earn way into God’s kingdom or God’s
favor. Salvation is not ours because of
merit or worthiness on our part; salvation comes through God’s grace alone.
William
Willimon, a preacher, teacher and at one time a Bishop in the United Methodist
denomination, wrote about the night of his ordination. He said the Holy Spirit got hold of him that
night. It took hold of him not when the
choir sang, not during the preaching, not even in the presence of friends and
family. The Holy Spirit grabbed him that
night when another Bishop laid his hands on him and quoted the ancient words,
“never forget that the sheep committed to your charge are the ones for whom he
gave his life.” Up until that moment,
Willimon was wondering if the Bishop would recognize his superior
training. He wondered if the laity would
respond to his progressive and social attitudes. Instead he heard, “the ones whom you serve
are the ones for whom the Master died.”
Did
Willimon feel worthy of that calling?
No. Do any of us? Probably not.
But just as this parable teaches about God’s grace, it also teaches us
something pretty fundamental about discipleship. Maybe the true reward comes not in words of
thanks or praise but in our day to day living as disciples. Maybe we find our reward when we recognize
that having faith, just faith, is more important than recognition. Maybe the reward can be found in doing our
duty, in always serving others, in doing what we believe to be right and true
just because we should, not because of what we think we’ll get. Maybe the reward comes when we recognize
beyond any doubt that we are humble, unworthy servants and yet we keep on
serving.
Every
day, around the globe, our brothers and sisters in Christ serve because that is
what they are supposed to do. And many
of them serve in circumstances and situations we cannot even begin to imagine. They are persecuted, discriminated against,
forced to keep their faith underground, and yet they still serve, not expecting
reward or thanks, just serving.
I
think what Jesus wanted the disciples to understand is that the reward for
discipleship comes in the doing of discipleship. That doing may be overwhelming at times. We may feel we need extraordinary doses of
faith in order to serve. But Jesus
assures the disciples and us that we already have enough faith to do all that
needs to be done. Even faith as small as
that infinitesimally tiny mustard seed is enough to move mountains. Discipleship requires faith, just faith, even
if that faith is shaky at times. It just
requires faith enough to keep walking behind the One who came into this world
to love it and us. Let all God’s children
say, “Amen.”
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