27th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Oct. 6, 2013
Luke 17: 5-10
Christian Brothers, Iona
College, N.R.
“Who
among you would say to your servant who has just come in from plowing or
tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here immediately and take your place at
table?’” (Luke 17: 7).
The world of servants and masters was the
ordinary world in which Jesus and the apostles lived. “Servant” here (the Greek word is doulos, the Latin word servus) may include household
slaves, youngsters hired out by impoverished parents, other hired persons like
housekeepers and field hands, or long term-term employees who were practically
members of a great lord’s household: in
more contemporary settings, think of a nanny like Mary Poppins (without the
magic of course) or of a gentleman’s valet like Passepartout in Around the World in 80 Days. (A couple of you may be old enuf to remember
when that was a hit in the movies—1956.)
Servants were such an everyday fact that Mary of Nazareth readily
described herself to Gabriel as the Lord’s doule, his maidservant, and the gospels are full of stories and
references to servants, or slaves, and masters.
One didn’t have to be a great lord to have a servant or two, e.g., a
young boy or maidservant or a hired worker.
St. Mark tells us that Zebedee hired men to fish alongside himself and
his sons (1:20), altho Mark uses a different noun that means someone hired for
pay.
So Jesus references servants and masters in many
of his parables. The passage we heard
this evening/morning is a parable—not in the sense of a story like the Prodigal
Son, but in the sense of a comparison drawn from life to illustrate a teaching.
He begins by asking a question, to which he expects the answer to be “no one.” In real life masters don’t treat their
servants, much less their slaves, as equals and don’t give them deference. The master will order this servant to prepare
and serve his meal [evidently we’re not talking about a great lord here with
many servants, including one just for cooking and serving].
Then Jesus reminds his listeners that this
master probably won’t even say “thank you” to his servant. The servant or slave is doing his job, for
which he already receives some sort of compensation—a wage or a place in the
household. Nothing more is owed, nothing
more required. This isn’t how employers
treat employees in our culture, at least not if they value company or household
morale, harmony, and productivity. But
our culture isn’t very much like that of the ancient Middle East.
Jesus’ point follows: we are the Lord’s servants. If we keep his commandments, he owes us
nothing. We’re “unprofitable,” in our
New American Bible translation, or “useless” or “worthless” in some other
translations, in that nothing further is due to us. We’re just doing what we’re supposed to do in
virtue of our status as creatures or as disciples.
[To the youngsters: When you pass your tests in school—you do
pass them, don’t you?—does your teacher tell you “thank you” for passing? No?
Why not? Because it’s what you’re
supposed to do. It’s your job! Does that make sense? And that’s sort of what Jesus is saying here
about the master and the servant.]
That God owes us nothing jars us. Aren’t we supposed to be rewarded for obeying
God’s law? Aren’t we supposed to hear
something like, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Come, share your master’s joy” (Matt 25:21)?
Well, no!
Who of us would dare to say to God, “You owe me!” Perhaps if we did indeed carry out flawlessly
every last one of the divine master’s expectations of us; if we weren’t sinners
who repeatedly display our faithlessness—maybe then we’d be so bold.
But Luke has another parable that offers a very
different take on this master-servant relationship, a parable that was part of
our gospel on the 19th Sunday of the year (Aug. 11, for those of you keeping
score at home). In that parable, Jesus
says that the master who finds his servants watching vigilantly when he returns
home “will gird himself, have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on
them” (12:37). The master becomes the
servant or slave and waits upon his faithful servants who’ve just done their
duty by staying alert to welcome him home.
The Footwashing, from the Bible of Tbilisi |
Jesus is more than a story-teller in this
regard. We all know/do you remember what
he did at the Last Supper, taking on the slave’s role of washing the feet of
the dinner guests (John 13:1-15)—to their great shock. (Peter wanted to refuse to let Jesus wash his
feet because it was beneath his dignity.)
And later in that same meal he raised their status from that of servants
to friends (15:15), radically transforming the relationship between himself and
all who follow him as his disciples.
The wedding banquet is an image used numerous
times in the New Testament for eternal life, for the joy and security of
heaven. Each time we celebrate the
Eucharist, we remember that image and foreshadow it. Indeed, we proclaim, “Blessed are those who are
called to the supper of the Lamb,” paraphrasing the Book of Revelation, which
reads “…to the wedding feast of the Lamb” (19:9).
And at this great feast, the Lamb, the master of
the feast, will serve his good and faithful servants. This service, this reward, however, comes not
as something we’ve earned—we are “unprofitable” or “useless “ servants. It comes as grace!
Our status as unworthy servants was the theme of
the Collect today: God’s abundant
kindness surpasses our merits (what do our sins merit?); hence we beg God,
“Pour out your mercy upon us to pardon what conscience dreads”—to pardon all
the sins that fill us with dread and foreboding when we think about God’s
justice.
The only claim we can make before God is, “Have
mercy on me, for I am a sinner”—a confession that figures in another parable that
Luke recounts, which we’ll hear in 3 weeks (18:13). That confession stakes no claim to a reward,
obviously, but asks for that grace which only the master can give—the master
who is abundantly kind and merciful, who calls us into a personal relationship
of friendship with himself.
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