Luke 12:32-48 – The Life of the Party of Life
Jesus says, “Be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks.” Later on it becomes clear just who “those” are: they are douloi (Greek), which we sometimes translate “servant” and other times translate “slaves.”
Which is it: servants or slaves?
Neither translation is completely accurate. The douloi (or doulai, feminine) were a class of people in the Ancient Mediterranean world who don’t have a precise modern counterpart. And they were everywhere; the practice of slavery was widespread. Every tribe and nation had slaves, including God’s Chosen People of ancient times.
Well, they were not exactly slaves in the way that we think of slaves – for example, not like the African slaves who were captured by the western imperial nations from the 16th to the 19th centuries and subjected to the most inhumane conditions. But, like slaves of any time or place, they lacked protection under the laws of the land (which is why, in various parts of the Bible, God calls for mercy and justice for slaves in the household.)
On the other hand, neither were they servants – not like the domestics in our time and place who are protected by the terms of the contracts that they sign, and who earn wages, and return to their own homes every day or at least periodically.
Probably the best way to think of them is as people not so different from most of us … except that they did not enjoy the freedom and security that we do. They were something like the serfs of the high Middle Ages in Europe. They were in economic bondage to the wealthy landowners, who controlled more and more of the productive land in Galilee and Judaea.
In many other ways, though, they were much like you and me. They had families and responsibilities. And no doubt they had dreams of a better life.
So, let’s use some creativity to imagine what it would have been like. In the household of the master in the tale that Jesus tells, let’s imagine there was a maid-servant by the name of Miriam. Miriam had been born on this master’s estate. Her parents had been indentured to the master of this large and still-growing empire. The only life Miriam knew was the life of a slave. She performed menial tasks in the kitchen and had done so since childhood.
She had older brothers who worked in the fields, and had done so since they were old enough to wield hand-tools and guide the oxen pulling the ploughs. They told her stories of the world beyond the house and the courtyard – a world of vast fields bearing crops of grain, sheep dotting the hillsides as they had done for generations, and beyond them the sea teaming with fish and the great ships that took all this wealth to Rome.
But all Miriam knew was the kitchen and its fire and its pots … and her aging parents. Her father and mother had laboured on this estate for Miriam’s entire life, and now their powers were diminishing. Soon they would not be able to earn their keep. She worried what would happen then. Would the master permit them to stay in a humble dwelling someplace on his vast holdings? Or would he turn them out, discarding them as he might discard a worn-out utensil or plough?
She sighed as she cleaned the last of the pots. She urgently wanted to go to her bed, but the master had left several days before to attend a wedding feast in the home of a man of even greater wealth and influence. He said that while he was away he expected all the servants to perform their duties according to the high standards that he demanded, and that upon his return all should be prepared to give an account of their work.
Miriam and the rest of the servant staff knew that the master’s return was unpredictable. A wedding feast thrown by a wealthy family could last as much as a week, and once caught up in the spirit of carefree celebration, the master might stay away longer than he had intended. Miriam sighed again and returned to the pots.
I also imagine a man-servant by the name of Reuben. Reuben is the chief steward. It is his job to manage the household, to serve as the chief among the slaves. I imagine Reuben to be a middle-aged man who rose to his position because of his knowledge, his sense of responsibility, and his skill in commanding obedience from the rest of the staff.
Reuben had been with the master a long time – in fact, ever since he was a young man. Back then he had been a free man, the owner of a small farm which he had inherited from his father. But because of a string of dry years with almost no crops, and the growing power of those who were already wealthy, he had fallen into debt with the master that he now served. In order for him and his family to survive, he had no option but to indenture himself to the master, and serve him for the rest of his life.
At first he had resented all this bitterly. But as the days and years passed, his anger gave way first to resignation and later to loyalty. For in spite of the master’s acquisitiveness, fuelled by his thirst for wealth, power, and privilege, the master was also ready to reward those servants who worked hard and devoted themselves to his growing empire.
And so Reuben eventually rose to the position of chief steward. He was the manager of virtually all of the master’s domestic business. He would always remain in servitude to the master, but the master rewarded him with modestly comfortable accommodations, sufficient food for himself and his family, and relative security.
Even so, whenever Reuben would manage business dealings which involved the land that once had been his ancestral heritage, the old bitterness would rise up once again. Like when he had too much time to think, as he did on this night, awaiting the master’s return.
Suddenly the gatekeeper called out. The master was approaching. Reuben had prepared for this moment. He had worked out a system among the household staff so that all chores would be complete and all affairs be in the best possible order. All staff would be alert to attend to the master’s every whim. Now, when the moment had arrived, Reuben calmly composed himself for the master’s return.
With a flurry of fine robes, the master and his personal servants swept into the grand house. He immediately called on Reuben to assemble all the servants. Although Reuben calmly and quietly obeyed by sending for all the staff, inwardly he wondered what ordeals he and the others would face. The master had just returned from a great wedding feast. The smell of sumptuous food and fine wine clung to his clothing. What need could he possibly have for yet more food or of anything else, for that matter?
As the kitchen maid, Miriam, and the rest of the household staff gathered in the dining room, Reuben secretly watched the master of these great tracts of lands, livestock, goods, and people. There was something different about him. He couldn’t seem to stop grinning a silly grin. At the same time he seemed impatient, a condition which normally would have prompted some anxiety in Reuben, who had witnessed many harsh reprimands.
Finally the master spoke, and what he said shocked all others in the room: he bade the staff recline at his table. No one moved. None of them had ever been invited to this table. None of them had ever leaned their arms upon its polished wood or rested their weary backs on the fine fabric of its cushions.
He repeated the words with greater urgency, but not with anger. He removed his elegant outer robe and then tied a sash around his waist as if to ready himself for menial work – something which none of the others in the room had ever witnessed. Still no one moved.
A third time the master spoke, now with something like tenderness in his voice. He turned to Reuben and directed him to arrange the staff in comfort at the master’s table. Reuben – always loyal, always disciplined – immediately did his master’s bidding. And yet he fumbled in confusion.
As the servants took up unfamiliar positions around that handsome table, the master left the room and then returned with a basin, a jar of water, and a towel. Miriam, that humble kitchen maid and lowliest of all the servants, automatically got up to perform the task of washing feet in preparation for a meal, as she had done so many times before. But the master gently eased her back into her cushion, and with a smile he began to minister to her feet.
The room became utterly quiet. No one dared even breathe as all witnessed the beginning of a wondrous dawn, when the master used his wealth and power to the benefit of the disenfranchised, enslaved people of his holdings.
How blessed were the slaves of that master! And so it is among us, dear friends in Christ. We too have our appointed work, our responsibilities, our sacrifices, and our cares. We too suffer our worries and our woes. We too ultimately and inevitably dread the master of all that exists, God the Creator. For God warns that God will judge all according to the work of their hands.
But all this changes – heaven itself is transformed! – because God the Father has sent God the Son into our world to take all those anxieties, all our sin, into the Divine Life. And in exchange God makes us perfectly free through the great feast of God’s abundance. God transforms our hearts and our minds for the sake of our neighbour. God uses the work of our hands to benefit the world and its creatures that God loves so dearly.
We are all caught up in the great heavenly banquet. Its bounty spills over this table and onto our homes and families, our friends and our communities. We’re caught up in the party of life that God has prepared in Jesus Christ.
Leave this place enlivened and re-energized for the sake of life. Peace be with you all.