August 11, 2019
Wis 18:6-9; Heb 11:1-2,8-19; Luke 12:32-48
Brookdale
In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus tells us to be vigilant, “like servants who await their master’s return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks.” But what does the master’s return refer to? For the last two thousand years, most people have understood the master’s return as the second coming of Jesus at the end of time, the parousia. The passage tells the disciples that we cannot make any assumptions about when Jesus will return. They must simply be ready whenever he comes.
This interpretation makes sense in the context of Luke’s Gospel. In the early years after the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, his followers believed that Jesus would return imminently to establish his kingdom in Jerusalem. Twenty years after the resurrection, Paul clearly expected that Jesus would return very soon, surely in his lifetime. But by the time Luke’s Gospel was written, almost 50 years had passed, and Christians were getting impatient. If Jesus was going to return in power and establish his kingdom on earth, where was he? The parable reminds Christians that we are the servants and Christ is the master: our job is not to complain that Jesus is late, but to be ready on his schedule.
However, a reference to the second coming is not the only possible way to hear this parable. Some modern scholars say that the coming of the master can refer to the judgment we all face when we die. Death can come to us at any time, as unexpectedly as the master’s return from a wedding in the next town. At the moment of our death, the books will be closed and sealed; there will be no time then for reconciling with family members and friends or repaying debts or doing those neglected good deeds. No reprieves or appeals. So in this reading, it is important to be always ready for the time when our lives end and our score for this lifetime is final.
So the master’s return seems to refer to a time of evaluation, either at the end of time or when our lives are complete and ready to be judged. The common thread here is judgment. Will the master seat us at the table and serve us, or will we be charged with laziness, neglect, selfishness, or even callous exploitation of our fellow servants? (I can’t imagine how pedophile priests or the bishops who protected them could have read this particular gospel passage without shame.)
But there is yet another way to understand the master’s return in this parable. To be ready for the master’s return means at least to have the house in order, but it also means to run out and welcome him. But what if the master comes very late and we’ve already locked the door for the night? What if we have closed the shutters and gone to sleep and don’t even hear him knocking? What if we don’t recognize him? There are many medieval Christian stories about the beggar at the gate who turns out to be the Christ. Today the Christ might appear as a desperate Salvadoran dad fleeing gang violence at home. Would we recognize the Christ if he is not wearing robes like in sacred paintings or a nametag that says “Hi, I’m Jesus”? Would we recognize him if he appeared with tattoos and dreadlocks or wearing a MAGA hat? Christians who persecuted Jews throughout the ages didn’t recognize Jesus when he appeared among them as a Jew—and that wasn’t much of a disguise, was it?
Vigilantly awaiting the arrival of the master means more than sitting on our hands and waiting for the Son of Man to appear on the clouds and reward us. It means more than saying the creed and putting money in the collection. It means taking the great commandments—love of God and love of neighbor—seriously every day and every hour, because we don’t know the time of the Second Coming, or the hour of our death, or where the master will turn up next.
Let’s imagine for a moment that this very evening, at 6:00, Jesus shows up at our door. If we knew that was going to happen, how would we spend the rest of our time today? Making a phone call or writing a letter to a loved one? Being patient with a cranky neighbor? Listening to a lonely person? Thanking someone who helps us out? By all means, let us have our lamps lit, so we can open the door for Jesus when he comes and knocks. Because one of these days… he will.