Luke 17:20-37:

In Old testament times, people used to talk a lot about "the Day of the Lord." They looked forward to it as the time when God would right all wrongs, when his people would no longer be threatened by foreign powers, and would get the recognition they deserved. After all, they were his chosen ones.

But the prophets began to say that the Day of the Lord wouldn't be a good day, it would be a terrible day. When God came, he wouldn't vindicate his people, he would condemn them for their wickedness.

After the terrible events of the exile, the remnant of God's people were chastened. They determined that never again would they fail to keep the law, and groups like the Pharisees came to the fore, who were meticulous in observing every detail of God's law. They began to hope again, for a coming Messiah who would sweep away the foreigners and give Israel back their birthright.

Perhaps this helps us see why the pharisees couldn't leave Jesus alone. He ticked many of their boxes as they waited for the Messiah. And his talk of the coming Kingdom of God sounded very similar to that old Day of the Lord stuff.

So they ask him. And get a dusty reply, like the prophets of old. Don't look forward to the coming of the kingdom. You won't enjoy it. It's not a day for the likes of you, who are hypocrites, who think you're so great, but are missing the point with your law keeping and your stuffy hypocritical righteousness.

And to the disciples he says, don't try and do a countdown. You can't predict when this day will land. It will come so suddenly that no one will be ready for it.

But it's coming. The vultures are gathering. The carrion birds smell a feast.

Luke 17:11-19:

Why does familiarity breed contempt? Why can't we keep love and gratitude going? Why do they just wither and turn sour as the years go by?

These gloomy reflections are prompted by reading the story of a bunch of lepers, living on the borders between Galilee and Samaria. 9 of them were Jews, one was a Samaritan. They were more united by their suffering than divided by their ethnicity.

But they weren't united in gratitude. When Jesus heals the whole bunch of them, the Jews all skip off without a care in the world. Only the Samaritan falls to his knees and pours out his thanks.

But it's the Jews who have got God. It's the Jews who look down their noses at the half-caste Samaritans, and despise them for their faint-hearted religion. It's the Jews who are the inheritors of all the wonderful promises of God, from Abraham onwards.

So why can't they say thank you? Why has familiarity bred contempt? Why is this sour, bitter-minded saying so depressingly true?

Has no one returned to give glory to God except this foreigner?

Luke 17:1-10: a box of bits

All the gospel writers seem to suffer from a problem known most commonly in modern life to people who have bought flat pack furniture from IKEA.

Yes, we've all done it. We've put the bookcase or the coffee table or the chest of drawers together, and discover there's one bit left over at the end. It doesn't matter how carefully you try to decipher the instructions, how many times you count all the pieces in their plastic packets, there's always something left over. The good news is that it doesn't really matter, the furniture usually stays together perfectly well without the spare part (unless you really did miss out something vital!).

When Luke and his fellow gospel writers had finished assembling their gospels, they had a few bits left over. A few miscellaneous sayings, a couple of minor miracles, and a story or two that seems too good to leave out, but which doesn't obviously fit in anywhere in what you've written.

So what do they do? Do they ignore the leftovers, and hope that the gospel won't wobble without them? No. They usually slot them in somewhere, just in case somebody might find them useful.

That, I think, is what Luke has done with today's section. If you've got time, and are interested, have a read of the other gospels (Matthew and Mark in particular) and see where they chose to put these bits. You'll find them in quite different places, connected with other stories and events. You'll probably also find Matthew and Mark's boxes of bits left over!

Luke seems to have hung his spare parts on the pegs of forgiveness and faith. He tells his disciples to be gentle to each other, to forgive each other's failings, and not be a temptation for someone to sin, They have something to say about faith, he has something to say about knowing their place - we are servants who should be content with doing our jobs, and not expect constant thanks and praise.

Try this bits on for size. If anything fits, keep it!

Luke 16:19-31: Some people just won't listen

Some people just won't listen. That's what Jesus had concluded. He tells a parable about a rich man and a poor man, whose situations in the afterlife are the opposite to what they experienced on earth.

It's the rich man who has the focus, and we see him full of regrets for his thoughtless life. He's still a bit arrogant, trying to order poor Lazarus around and get him to fetch a drink of water. But he is thinking about his brothers, and wants to do what he can to prevent them ending up where he is.

So he dreams up another job for the ex-beggar, now he's got to be a messenger boy and warn the brothers to mend their ways.

But Father Abraham is having none of it. Let them read the Bible! It's all in there. No, but if someone rises from the dead, then they will listen, surely? No one can ignore a sign as big as that!

Can't they?

Just you wait, Pharisees. Soon you'll have the chance to ignore Jesus on an even bigger scale than ever before. Enjoy it.

Luke 16:13-18: Divorced from reality

I'm reading verse 13 again today. It served as a conclusion to the previous parable, but also it introduces the next section - the controversy with the pharisees over money.

Luke lets his careful objectivity slip for a moment, and says something rude about the pharisees. He calls them "lovers of money." So he's clearly siding with Jesus, who has just warned them that they cannot sit on the fence - either they love God, or they love money. It's as stark as that.

For Jesus, the pharisees, though looking righteous, are actually poison. They are doing dreadful harm by kidding people that being like them is what God wants, and when people copy them, they find themselves further from God than they were before. What a travesty! The "godly" are the ones doing the devil's job, tempting people away from God!

Jesus tackles one of their arguments against him, that he is ignoring the law, and letting riff raff in to God's kingdom. No - I'm not ignoring the law, you are! You're so busy finding clever little ways to get round the spirit of the law while obeying the letter of it - divorce being an example - that you completely miss the point.

Divorce had been made easy, so long as it was regularised. Get the paperwork in order, and essentially you could please yourself. That's the way the pharisees played it. Jesus' reply is simple: adultery is adultery, it doesn't matter what you call it. Anyone who has been tempted to break their marriage vows (and show me a person who says they haven't been tempted and I'll show you a liar) will be familiar with the convoluted thought processes that we use to justify it to ourselves. "Of course, in any other circumstance this would be wrong, but ..."

So am I saying that al divorce everywhere is wrong? No. I'm saying don't think legalistically about the law. Jesus didn't. He thought idealistically about it. What is the ideal that the law is trying to uphold?

Honour the ideal, don't just keep the rules.

Luke 16:1-13: Wha??

I have to confess I've never understood this parable. Jesus seems to be commending a man for his dishonesty. Or his worldly wisdom.

Realising that he was about to get the push, he set about making friends with other business people so that he would be able to get a new job quickly.

I suppose Jesus is saying, look - your time on this earth is short, so you'd better make friends with those who can offer you a new position that will be to your liking. In terms of friends he means God; in terms iof position he means heaven.

The problem for me is that if I came across a steward who was so willing to double cross his old master, I wouldn't want to employ him for fear he would double cross me as soon as I did something he didn't like.

I've always thought honesty brings its own reward, and to be honest (NPI) I thought Jesus did too. Verses 10 to 12 seem to say as much.

So help me out, please! Leave me a comment explaining it to me. What is this parable all about?


If you need to know, NPI means no pun intended

Luke 15.11-32: Lost a third time

Once again Jesus expounds the theme. This time, it's not a coin or a sheep, it's a son. Coins have no will of their own, sheep have some, but a human can choose.

This boy has chosen to turn his back on his father and his home, and set out for an adventure. He needs to learn for himself that money and fun are shortlived entertainment.

Dad meekly lets him go. One can only wonder what the older brother had to say at this point.There's a clue in the end of the story as to their different attitudes towards the young prodigal. When they talk about him, neither of them use his name. The older brother refers to "this son of yours," while the father calls him "your brother."

Older brother has disowned his wayward sibling. He's nothing to do with me any more. He's "your son," not "my brother." But the father resists this redefinition of the family. As far as he's concerned, he's still got two sons. One faithful, one wayward. But the faithful son is angry that his father won't denounce the wayward son.

The righteous pharisees are angry that Jesus refuses to denounce the tax collectors and sinners. So its clear that this pointed story is aimed at them.

They think they're upright. Jesus thinks they're uptight.

Luke 15:8-10: Lost again

Jesus turns to another example. A woman with a 10% shortfall in her most valued treasure. Commentators tell me these 10 coins were probably her dowry, which she would have kept sewed into a headscarf. Perhaps there was a little hole in the scarf, and one coin slipped out.

At once the day's plans are cancelled, and she goes into spring clean mode. Every item of furniture is pulled out, every corner is swept, the house is blitzed within an inch of its life.

In a similar way, Jesus is implying that he is coming and looking for something of value all over Israel, and he will leave no stone unturned in the search for something to rejoice his Fathers's heart. Jesus is hunting every sinner, and the woman is hunting her dowry. It is her birthright, it is her passport to a marriage and a future in her culture. She will not rest until it is found.

Jesus is indicating a similar determination: he will not falter in his quest to carry his appeal to all Israel. Repent, and believe the good news!

Luke 15.1-7: Losing things

Careless people are the focus of attention for the next couple of days.

 Jesus tells three very famous parables which seem to be initiated by the complaints of the pharisees about the disreputable people that were hanging around him.

Jesus begins to tell a story about a shepherd who wasn't very good at his job. Or so it seems -  because the man had 100 sheep to look after and had done pretty well. He had brought 99 through the winter safe and sound,  and there was just one that have gone astray.

And yet he left the 99 untended and went off in search of the one that was missing.

Fortunately he found it, and brought it home with great rejoicing.

This is a logical, it isn't rational, and it certainly isn't good economics. Why risk 99 for the sake of one?

But then it's not exactly good theology either to risk offending the righteous in order to win the hearts of one or two unrighteous people.

But if Jesus can't be the Messiah of all he can't be the Messiah at all, and so he is more concerned about the outcasts than it is about the "in casts."

One theme unites these three happy parables and it is the theme of rejoicing. There is joy as a shepherd brings home his lost sheep; there is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents.

Luke 14:25-35: Pricey!

The next parable doesn't seem to fit with the banquet scene. Perhaps it's some time later, when Jesus once again is with the familiar crowds.

Away from the swivel-eyed pharisees, we might expect him to be relaxed. But what he says seems calculated to put people off.

Have you worked out how much it's going to cost you to follow me? See those stakes at the crossroads, the ones the Romans nail people up on when they crucify them? You know how they make the poor sods carry their cross to the execution place? Have you realised that following me is going to be as hard as carrying your cross? Have you thought that you might have to deny your own family to be known as one of mine?

You'd work out what it costs to build a tower, wouldn't you? Or if you were a general, you'd make sure your army had what it takes to win before entering a battle?

Following me isn't just something to do in the summer, like an extended holiday. It's hard - like carrying your cross, or constructing a great landmark for all to see, or risking all in a war for what is right.

Have you thought about it? Are you ready for it? If not - what use are you? If you're like salt that's lost its savour, I don't want you hanging around me.

Last night I saw a commercial for a gambling website and at the bottom of the screen was the caption "Stop when it isn't fun any more." Good advice to avoid addiction.

Is this what Jesus is saying to his fair weather followers?

Luke 14.15-24: Rude!

The banquet theme continues. After a bland comment from a fellow diner, Jesus launches into a parable.

In the culture of the day, the guests in Jesus' story behave with shocking rudeness. The way is was done was to send out invitations twice; after the first one was accepted, a second went out saying, basically, "Come now, the food is getting cold." Etiquette dictated that you would immediately respond, and follow the messenger straight to the party. To make your excuses at this stage was, well, inexcusable.

And yet, three times over, this is what happens. The different guests suddenly decide they have more important things to do than attend a party they had already said they would come to. No wonder the host is angry. You just don't stand up a rich and powerful man like that.

Jesus' point is that this is precisely what Israel has gone to God. They said they would be his people, they said they would come to his banquet, but now the moment has come, they find excuses.

The host in Jesus' story then makes sure that his banquet is full somehow or other. "Go and get the people who never get invited," he tells his staff. So the outcasts are called in. Even then there's still room (quite a party, this!) so out go the servants again to the highways and byways, and drag people in.

Think how this sounds to the ultra-orthodox pharisees. Intent on purity, committed to righteousness, they find themselves characterised as rude, thoughtless and ignoring of God's invitation. They find themselves excluded in favour of the great unwashed. They find themselves banned.

Jesus is burning his boats with this parable. He is declaring the pharisees as his enemies. They will never support him after this.

Luke 14:7-14: Come dine with me

Jesus took a look around him at the dinner table. It was probably very subtle, but he could make out the power games that were being played. There was very definitely a hierarchy on the seating order, and, although conducted with smiles and signs of humility, there were skirmishes over the seats of highest honour.

So he decided to break another rule. He mentioned it.

If there's one thing that middle class people hate, it's bringing their competitiveness into the open. Whether its places at a coveted school, success for your child's football team, being more successful at work than your neighbours, or better looking than anyone else in the hairdressers, we love to be competitive. Anything, if you try hard enough, can be turned into a contest.

So Jesus, watching with amusement at the tabletop shenanigans, called out this behaviour. As if making conversation, he begins to remark that wouldn't it be good if everybody had a rush for the bottom, then you'd have the satisfaction of your host inviting you up to a better seat.

And he presses his point. Turning to his host, he tells him, don't invite people who can invite you back, invite the poor and the outcasts. Be like God, who is busy populating his kingdom with those you have rejected, under your very nose.

Oh, and you want a reward for this, do you? Well you'll get one. God will see, and God will reward you, according to your deeds. You might fool people,  you might win your little competitions more often than you lose, but God won't be playing by your rules.

Luke 14:1-6: A provocative healing

Yesterday Jesus announced to the fox, Herod, that he would keep on healing people today and tomorrow, and on the third day accomplish his objective.

Luke gives this chapter the setting of a meal with a prominent pharisee. This feels like the earlier days, when the religious inspectors were examining Jesus, trying to make up their minds about him. Perhaps they are giving the iconoclastic rabbi one final chance. There is a lot about him that is admirable, after all. One cannot deny that he has a certain ... power.

Jesus sees a sick man present, and challenges the experts, "Is is legal to heal on the sabbath?" They decline to give a judgement, and Jesus makes it clear where he stands, performing the healing and sending the man away.

You help your animals on the sabbath, don't you? If your beast has fallen into a pit, you don't leave it there, do you? So why shouldn't I give this man a hand out of his pit of sickness?

No comment.

What are they thinking? Do they secretly agree with Jesus? Do they feel that he is provoking them?Are they willing to accept that he is not a wicked man?

No, yes, and no.

Luke 13:30-35: Tears over Jerusalem

When I went to Israel, my first sight of Jerusalem came from the pilgrim's way, as we walked up the Mount of Olives, crested the rise and saw the city laid out before us. Take away the Dome of the Rock, and replace it with Herod's Temple, glittering in the sun, and the view would be pretty similar to the one Jesus would have been familiar with.

It is hard not to be moved by the beauty of the sight, and for a Jewish pilgrim, this first sight of the "joy of the whole earth" would have made them burst into song.

Jesus would have walked this way as a pilgrim many times, but now, as he seems determined to make the journey again, he is accosted by some Pharisees who for once, seem to be well-meaning, warning Jesus to stay away because Herod Antipas is trying to kill him.

Jesus is rude about Herod in return, and declares that he will not swerve from his purpose. Grimly he says that it wouldn't do for a prophet to die outside Jerusalem.

Then I picture him calling the city to mind, and weeping for it. For him to go there should be a homecoming. But it will not be so. As John put it in his Gospel: "He came to his own people, but his own people did not receive him." Jesus sees this city in mortal danger, and unwilling to accept his protection.

Going there now will be the death of him.

Luke 13:22-29: The Narrow Door

There was a little change of mood yesterday. Just briefly, things weren't so grim. It didn't last, because today Jesus is back to his stark, uncompromising message. There are two ways to go, and most of you are choosing the wrong way.

Verse 22 tells us that Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. That's a warning in itself. The capital city is obviously the powerbase of the religious establishment, and the establishment has made up its mind about Jesus - they are against him.

To say that Jesus is disappointed that he failed to win the religious leaders over is to understate the case. As I read the controversies in these last two or three chapters, he comes across as furious. He feels betrayed and let down by those who should have acknowledged him, welcomed and supported him. It's the simple villagers who turn out to cheer him on, while the Pharisees and teachers of the law skulk in their big houses and conspire against him.

So when they ask, in response to his stern teaching about judgement, "Lord, are only a few going to be saved?" he replies with a surprising metaphor. God's kingdom has a small and disregarded front door. You'd expect a grand entrance, a welcome mat and signs of encouragement. Instead, Jesus implies, the way in is neglected, dusty and little used.

But for all that, it's important to hurry along and try the rusty handle. If you delay, shortly the door will be locked from the inside, and no amount of frantic pleading will make it open again. Looking around in desperation, you will find yourself in the company of the great and the good - all also locked out. Peering through the windows you will see all sorts of surprising characters sitting down, taking their ease, enjoying God's hospitality.

No amount of protesting: "Don't you know who I am?" will have any effect. Nothing but a stark response comes back: "Sorry, I never knew you."

Luke 13:18-20: Little

Sadly, I am behind. Hopefully, by posting at odd times I can catch up. At least this is a short passage.

Jesus told two little parables. Little parables about little things. Here he is, preacher, healer, scourge of the Pharisees, with more power in his little finger than any other man who has ever spoken words of wisdom and life. And what is he talking about? A tiny seed and a pinch of yeast. Hardly the stuff of kingdoms.

And yet, and yet. The seed becomes the mightiest bush. The yeast works through the whole batch of dough, transforming it, enlivening it.

Jesus doesn't explain these mini parables. He just tells them, like telling a joke. To explain it would be to destroy their power, to limit their ability to get under our skin and into our imagination. What is the seed to you? What works like yeast in my life?

Jesus, in the midst of his troubles, when his mission seems to be hiring the skids, still finds the words to tantalise our imagination.

Luke 13:10-17: I fought the Law

(Sorry. Yes, I know, I'm late today. Won't happen again.)

Jesus has another run in with the authorities, in the synagogue on a sabbath.

If it seems odd to you that anyone would object to him doing good, then you don't understand the place of the Law in Jewish thought. I'm not sure I do. If I witnessed a miracle in church on Sunday, I wouldn't be up in arms. I'd be gobsmacked, because my church isn't always exciting enough to generate a miracle a week, but I wouldn't be furious.

So why? What's the problem here?

The Law matters to Jewish people. It's God's gift, it shows why they are distinct and different from us Gentiles, and in the keeping of it there is great blessing. It's a great way to demonstrate your faith. Because, on the face of it, what's the point in obeying laws that are just plain awkward? Devout Jews won't open a fridge door on the sabbath, because that would turn a light on, and turning on a light is work. And you mustn't work on the sabbath.

How is that demonstrating faith? Well, it shows that you believe that God will bless you for your obedience, and you would rather receive that blessing from God than be thought of as sensible or conformist. Or to put it another way, what does it matter if non-Jews think you're weird? God sees, and God knows, and God will reward you.

I say all this to help me understand why the synagogue leader could be so ungracious towards a woman who had suffered so long. Actually, his argument doesn't stack up. He says, there are 6 perfectly acceptable days for you to come and be healed, so why come on the sabbath. He says it to a woman who has been ill for 18 years, for whom more than 5000 "acceptable healing days" have dragged past, and God never healed her on any of them, despite the fact that she is a good Jew, a daughter of Abraham.

It's easy to sympathise with Jesus, it's hard to get into the mind of the synagogue leader. Very hard.

Is my mind ever as closed as his seems to be?

Luke 13:6-9: Cut it down!

Even the parables are affected by this new mood. Previous parables, I would suggest, could be characterised as moving, challenging, uplifting, hopeful. But the most cheerful thing that can be said about this one is that at least there is a stay of execution.

A fig tree bears no figs. Why should it use up the soil? Cut it down! says the owner.

But the gardener replies, give it one more year, give it one more chance. Perhaps next season there will be fruit. If not, then I will dig it up and burn it.

The fig tree was used by the prophets as a symbol of Israel often enough. They spoke of God's disappointment that his cherished plant was bringing him no sweet fruit.

So what's new with Jesus's parable? Nothing it seems.

One of the things that has made Jesus different to all those who have gone before is the way that everything about him has brought an air of new hope. There's been a newness and a freshness about Jesus that has excited and inspired people. This parable feels different - it feels tired, old, verging on despair.

What is Jesus thinking? Is he giving up hope? Does he think his mission is failing?

I wonder what tomorrow's passage will bring.

Luke 13:1-5: Better? Or worse.

Well. Things have changed recently. Up to chapter 11, Luke's gospel was just that - pretty good news all round. But then the storm broke, the arguments have raged, and everything has got a lot darker.

But it's a new chapter today! What will chapter 13 bring? More storms, or will there be a rainbow?

Aghh! Of course. I remember now how Luke 13 starts - more gruesome than ever. A topical story about an outrage of Pilate, the Roman governor, against some Galileans. We don't know what they did to offend Pilate, but he thought it would be a suitable cruel retribution to mock their earnest sacrifices. Oh the rivers of blood that were poured out on God's altar in Jerusalem! On one day they flowed with human blood too, scandalising and terrorising an occupied people.

What will Jesus say? Surely he can't help but use this as a rallying cry, or a deep lament? Actually neither. Jesus seems to sense in this a theological challenge. Instead of hearing an implied question like "What does this story make you think about Pilate?" Jesus hears "What does this story make you think about God?"

So he sounds like John the Baptist as he replies: the axe is laid to the root of the tree. Change your ways, or judgement is coming. God is not fooled, he can see that you are rotten, and he will chop down the dead wood. So - don't ask yourself were those unfortunate people somehow worse sinners than I am, that God allowed such misfortune to come upon them? Ask yourself this - why can't I see the warning signs? Why can't I wake up, and change my ways, before it's too late?

12:49-59: Impending doom

There's a grim flavour to Jesus' words today. On Friday, we were introduced to the idea of The End. Today, Jesus is talking in the light of the coming darkness, and it's hard to find anything to be cheerful about.

First, he talks about arguments and divisions. He envisions families torn apart, some for him, some against. This is what I've come to do - split you down the middle. These are agonising words for someone like me, whose instinct is always to hold people together, to stitch up and mend any breach. It reminds me of the words of Ecclesisastes: "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:" " a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them," "a time to tear and a time to mend."

Jesus is clearly thinking the time has come to tear, not to mend. People are making up their minds about him - he can't go on appealing and inviting for ever. Those who have set themselves against him will have their way, and have their day. But as the Easter story we have just lived through reminds us, their part of the story is not The End.

So before The End comes - Jesus wants us to be ready. Look at the signs of the times! he tells his disciples. Be alert! Don't plod along thinking tomorrow is going to be the same as today. You're on your way to the judge. Do you really think you're innocent?

But if you think you're guilty, now is the time to make amends, before the judge pronounces sentence and the prison doors clang shut.