Words'nTone

“A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death—the huge solace of thinking that for our betrayals, greed, cowardice, murders, we are not going to be judged” ~Czeslaw Milosz, Polish poet and prose writer

“The problem with the argument is that it cuts both ways.  If you suggest that people only believe because they want it to be true, then the counter-claim is that atheists are only non-believers because they don’t want it to be true” ~Simon Wenham, “Is Religion is Crutch?”

     “You really don’t believe in political solutions do you?”

     “I believe in political solutions to political problems. But man’s primary problems aren’t political; they’re philosophical. Until humans can solve their philosophical problems, they’re condemned to solve their political problems over and over and over again. It’s a cruel, repetitious bore.” ~Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

“God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.” Most conservative and evangelical Christians are familiar with this tag line. It is frequently in witnessing to attract and connect seekers to God’s love, open individuals up to the claims of Christ, and promote individual interest in salvation, the Gospel, or even a certain church. But its prolific use only adds to the perception that the Gospel is about “me.” The line of thought reinforces the concept that the Bible’s story is all about “me.” I don’t dispute that God has shown us His love through sending His Son to die on a cross for sinners. But, making the Gospel (or the Bible for that matter) individual-centric skews how we hear and read biblical texts and myriad of Bible stories. This is particularly true in how many people hear the Luke 15 parable of the prodigal son. Even before we read or hear the parable, we assume the Biblical story as a whole is about me and God’s love for me. Then, this is affirmed by preachers who frame the parable to be about God’s love for “you.”

Most seem happy to hear about God’s love through the parable of the prodigal son. No questions asked beyond the “apparent” love the father in the story has for his lost son—if the wayward, reckless returns and realizes his wretchedness, the Father will welcome him and throw a big party! The parable is wrenched right out of Luke’s flow of thought and interpreted on its own and as if it was for “me.” However, the full force of Luke’s over all context, that is Jesus’ mission to reach out to the unclean, unloved, marginalized, and poor and bring them in to the Kingdom, shouts at us to hear the parable somewhat differently.

First, there are three parables—we tend to concentrate on the last and longest, mostly because we are told we can connect with the prodigal son or told we can have that intimate connection with the loving father. But all three parables should be considered together as we seek to interpret. Second, there is a long-bible-story aspect of the parable of the prodigal son that needs to be considered. In fact, I call this parable, the “parable of the two lost sons,” because of the Old Testament two-son storyline. So, we begin by looking at the introduction to the three parables of lost things and a review of why Jesus gives the parables in the first place—the context.

The entrance to hear the parables of Luke 15
The parables of the three lost things are introduced with the issue at hand. Jesus was gathering, not necessarily the elite, ceremonially clean, “righteous” acceptable crowd from among the religiously approved, but sinners and the despised. We read in vv. 1-2:

Now all the tax collectors and the sinners were coming near Him to listen to Him. Both the Pharisees and the scribes began to grumble, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”

This sets up the parables in Luke 15 and is an obvious bridge from the preceding chapter. This attitude among the Jerusalem leadership, which is in line with the parable and teaching preceding Luke 15, is the reason the parables of the three parables of lost things are given in the first place (Luke 15:4-7, 8-10, 11-32): So He told them this parable, saying (v. 3).

We recall the earlier tension in 14:1: It happened that when He went into the house of one of the leaders of the Pharisees on the Sabbath to eat bread, they were watching Him closely. Prior to the familiar parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the two lost sons, Luke highlights the tension between the Jerusalem leadership and Himself. Luke’s narrative in chapter 14, again, ensures that the reader will understand that this section of teaching concerns their religiosity, their attitudes of pride and place, and, as well, the issue of excluding/including of outsiders into the Kingdom. In Luke 14, the elite, self-righteous guests were “picking out the places of honor at the table” (v. 7). Jesus warns the guests, who were vying for such honor, to be careful, for while they seek the honor and expected places at the table, someone more honorable could arrive and they would be asked to “give your place to this man” (v. 9). (Strangely overlooked, the “someone more honorable” in the story are the outcasts and marginalized of society.) The lesson to be learned, “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (v. 11). And, just in case the crowd of religious elite and leaders, as well as, the readers of Luke’s Gospel, miss the point, Jesus points out:

And He also went on to say to the one who had invited Him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, otherwise they may also invite you in return and that will be your repayment. But when you give a reception, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, since they do not have the means to repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” When one of those who were reclining at the table with Him heard this, he said to Him, “Blessed is everyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” (Luke 14:12-15)

Jesus, then, concludes the kingdom banquet parable, where those expected to come had excuses for not attending (14:16-20), with an invitation list that turns outward to the “streets and the lanes of the city,” to “the poor and crippled and blind and lame” (v 21c). Once the new invitees were seated, there was still room, so the Master instructed, “Go out into the highways and along the hedges, and compel them to come in, so that my house may be filled” (v. 23) for none from the expected guests “shall taste of my dinner” (v. 24).

There is no doubt that Jesus’ is contrasting and confronting attitudes that resist the inclusion of outcasts and outsiders into the Kingdom. The despised, religiously unclean, and the unwanted are to be invited into the gathering. Then in Luke 15 we have three parables of lost things that were sought after, found, and a grand party is given to rejoice and celebrate that the lost was found—as were the outcasts sought and found and brought into the party of the Kingdom!

I strongly suggest that the parables in Luke 15 and particularly the lengthy prodigal son (or as I prefer, the parable of the two lost sons) should be heard within this context: The outcast, the poor, and marginalized are to be intentionally sought after to be guests at the table of the Kingdom. The parable of the prodigal son is less about God’s love toward the sinner, than the love that the community of faith is to have for the poor, outcasts, and marginalized in and throughout their community.

Emil Brunner, the Swiss Theologian, famously remarked, “For every civilization, for every period of history, it is true to say, ‘show me what kind of gods you have, and I will tell you what kind of humanity you possess.’” Poignantly sharp. Yet, the emphasis Brunner gives here is on the kind of person you are. But more importantly, for Christians, we should be concerned, as well, with the kind of God we follow.

The context surrounding the parable of the prodigal son seems to suggest that the Christian community ought to have an association to the economically vulnerable populations that are part of their wider communities. Some of whom will be outside your daily social habits. People know more about the God you claim to worship by the associations you have through the habits of your social life. If we take the Bible seriously, we can give a slight reworking to Brunner’s assertion: Show me what kind of association you have with those living with the affects of poverty, and I will tell you what kind of god you worship.

As we move to Luke 15 and the parable of lost things, let’s start with an interesting question. Be honest. If you didn’t know the outcome of the parable of the prodigal son—the end of the story, who would more likely be your acquaintance, the son who stayed home in the father’s palace or the prodigal son who was greedy, impetuous, reckless, and eventually eats with the pigs? Be honest, now. Even if you tried to pick the wayward son, take a look at your neighbors, friends, and social acquaintances and that will tell you whom you would choose. My first response is WWJD, or better, who would Jesus be associated with? (Is that WWJBAW?)

An introduction to Luke 15 and the parable of the prodigal son
As we enter into Luke 15 and seek to rehear the familiar and beloved parable of the prodigal son, we need to clear away some of the wax build up in our ears. Most Christians have a preconceived interpretation of this parable: The primary notion is to think the parable is about us—really about “me” personally. Even before we begin to hear the story, immediately we assume the parable is about God the Father loving me so much that he’d overlook all my sinful behavior and consider me a son. First, Luke’s Gospel has not been promoting privatized application through its teaching and parables—we can see that throughout chapter 14, and then 16-21.

Second, the parable of the banquet in chapter 14 strongly suggests that we are to seek out the prodigals (i.e., the poor, the economically vulnerable, and the marginalized). This parallels with the point of the three things that are lost in Luke 15, but are sought and found—with joy. And, then later, capping a series of parables and teaching, we are reminded through the Zacchaeus, the tax-collector, event that Jesus, who is the Son of Man, came to seek and to save what was lost (19:10). So whatever the prodigal son parable is about, the context seems to suggest it is related to the overall teaching on the poor that has been embedded throughout Luke’s Gospel; a more fitting application related to the Christian community to go seek those outside its regular social habits.

A strange twist has recently been given to the parable of the prodigal in Luke 15. A rather famous and very popular preacher has attempted to shift the prodigal-ness to the father of the story. If we start with the assumption that this parable is about God the Father’s love for me, me, me, it seems natural to agree that the real prodigal of the story is the father, who recklessly and extravagantly showers me with love and forgiveness even if I’ve come straight from the pigsty. By taking an obscure definition of the English word for prod•i•gal (reckless, extravagant; having spent everything) and spinning a strained connotation to describe the father, we forsake the natural and contextual reading of this pivotal parable. Forcing this English-text definition, which might produce hip, trendy, and a more contemporary interpretation that helps people in the pew “connect” with God better, then causes us to disregard the teaching and emphasis that surrounds the parable.

The parable, simply put, is not about how God loves you and me; but how our attitude about outsiders are contrary to the Gospel, opposes God’s will in Christ Jesus, and is contrary to the presence of God’s Kingdom. It’s more about not living up to the discipleship required and implied by the Gospel, than about learning about God’s love for me and you “no matter which son you are.” There are plenty of other texts that legitimately speak to God’s love toward sinful man. This parable, really, isn’t. We trade away sound exegesis, as well as the surrounding context, for a contemporary, feel-good interpretation that keeps the Christian community from hearing what is actually a very severe text on discipleship.

In the concluding posts, I’d like to point us toward the intention of Luke’s parable of the two sons. We’ll make a number of observations. Listen to the text anew and draw some possible implications.

“There [in the New Testament is] a community was formed, and here we have it today--and we have something pretty empirical here… ...which is more likely: that these disciples got together when Jesus died and said, “Isn’t this horrible; let’s pretend he rose from the dead,” and started a movement that has endured persecution for a lie--or that he arose? ... The apostles saw and heard these things happen in time and space, and I have no reason to disbelieve the soundness of their testimony.  Rather I have more reason to trust their powers of observation because they signed their testimony in blood.” ~Unknown

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“...we...have stumbled, almost unconsciously, upon the true answer to one of the profoundest questions which has engaged the thought of the Church from the time of the Early Fathers to our own...There may be, and, as the writer thinks, there is certainly, a deep and profoundly historical basis for that much disputed sentence in the Apostle’s Creed— ‘The third day he rose again from the dead.’” ~Frank Morris,Who Moved the Stone?

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“Now if Christ is preached, that He has been raised from the dead, how do some among you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? But if there is no resurrection of the dead, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is vain, your faith also is vain. Moreover we are even found to be false witnesses of God, because we testified against God that He raised Christ, whom He did not raise, if in fact the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If we have hoped in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied. But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who are asleep.” ~the Apostle Paul, 1 Corinthians 15:12-20

In Ron Sider’s scathing book The Scandal of the Evangelical Conscience, we learn that white evangelicals are the most likely to object to neighbors of another race. We are far more comfortable with “our kind” and “our neighbors” than we are with those outside our normal, everyday habits and social connections. As a younger Christian and one who was in ministerial training, I recall bristling at a rather casual comment made by a pastor of a church I was attending: “We really love this couple. They are our kind of people.” Even then, in my more narrow-minded and fundamentalist days of youthful faith, I knew there was something wrong with this comment. I wasn’t sure what “our kind” was other than “they fit comfortably in our congregation because they are like us.” These are not good traits for evangelical Christians. No wonder “a mere 22% of people have a positive view of evangelicals” (Sider, Scandal, p 28).

As we slowly make the turn to the Luke 15 parables of lost things and the prodigal son, we should recall Luke’s emphasis on the poor. This can also be seen in the early chapters of his Gospel.

At the beginning, the Spirit falls on Jesus and He is anointed to preach the Good News to the poor, release to the captives, healing for the blind, and freedom to those who are oppressed (cf. 4:18). It does not seem fair to Luke simply to devotionalize these words from his Gospel, for it steals the good doctor’s very obvious emphasis that the community of faith is to have on those affected by the pains of poverty. Then in Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, Jesus says, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God” (6:20). Then in a short while, as Jesus travels throughout the land on His mission, He tells John the Baptist’s disciples, “Go and report that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised—and what?—the poor have the Gospel preached to them.” (7:22). This is to affirm that Jesus was fulfilling the mission prophesied of Him in the Old Testament, a mission related to the economically vulnerable.

As previously noted, a third of Luke’s Gospel contains significant amount of references, both in parables and in teaching, to the poor and marginalized (chapters 13-21). If the earlier texts in Luke highlighted above are also considered, the poor and economically vulnerable are so embedded in Luke’s Gospel narrative that to ignore them is to turn a deaf ear to what God is saying through His word.

The three parables of lost things, which include the beloved parable of the prodigal son, do not directly mention the “poor” or the “marginalized” as do the obvious references elsewhere. However, two final notes before heading to Luke 15: First, how does Luke’s obvious emphasis on the poor and economically vulnerable play a part in interpreting the significance of the parable of the prodigal son? Second, it is a curious thing, even the parable of the prodigal son ends with him in poverty just before his father welcomes him back and throws a big party. An interesting juxtaposition with the Luke 14 parable of the great banquet.

Throughout chapters 13-21 Luke has affirmed, in various ways, that the Christian community is to rub personalities and life habits with all sorts—and if we are to consider Luke’s obvious emphasis—this includes the poor and marginalized of society. In fact, returning to the parables of the banquet, we are to reach out to those who are not our neighbors, those definitely estranged from our everyday social habits—reaching out to the alleyways and streets littered with the marginalized and the poor.

“A society, a state does not like to confront an imagery that is at variance with its self-imagery, and, as such, is likely to destroy its world of fantasies. Herein lies the reason for our sharp reaction to those who call our attention to that reality” ~ Daniel L. Smith-Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile

At one time or another we’ve read the few pages at the beginning of the book and then skip to the last pages to see how it ends. Sometimes this is enough to tell us if the story in the middle is worth the time to read the whole story. Michael Pahl in The Beginning and the End offers that peek at the two bookends of our Bible, Genesis and the book of Revelation.

Early in the book, Pahl reminds us that in “a journey, beginnings and endings are crucial.” He surveys the opening chapters of Genesis and the concluding chapters of the book of Revelation so we can “understand our beginning and our end, our origins and our destiny, where we come from and where we are going.” The beginning of Genesis and the last chapters of Revelation reveal the answers to these questions for the reader, because it is “crucial to our identity, our purpose, our being and living in the world.”

As ancient documents, Pahl takes seriously Genesis’ and Revelation’s historical and literary features and presents their purposes in the grand scheme of God’s inspired revelation.

“Together these biblical writings sketch out a story of God, humanity, and all creation, a narrative that moves from the beginning to the end with ourselves in the middle, a narrative that calls us to live in a certain way, shaping our identity and our values in light of our origins and our destiny.”

Pahl is mindful to explain the type of writings, that is, the genre of these bookends. He writes, “A genre is like an implied contract, an unwritten agreement, between the author and the reader of the text. The genre establishes a framework” for hearing these ancient documents. This will help the reader understanding the documents’ purpose and then what the reader can discover through them. A careful reading of the beginning and ending of our Bible will help us learn “the who what why of human existence.”

The creation story in Genesis will deeply influence the way we view God. Of Revelation, Pahl unveils:

“It is as if an apocalypse tears away a veil that has been covering our eyes or keeping us from seeing something in a certain way, allowing us to get a glimpse of our world the way God sees it, to gain a clearer perspective on what is happening in the world and where everything is heading.”

The Beginning and the End offers a great introduction to a biblical worldview, helping the reader to know that the story in the middle is worth reading the whole book.

Anytime a familiar interpretation of a beloved text or biblical story is called into question, much care is needed in explaining why that traditional interpretation is now quite right. Hearing the up-coming Luke 15 parable of the prodigal son in a very different, non-traditional way requires careful work by the one making the “new” interpretation; but it also takes hard work by the listener to follow the context. The parables and teachings in Luke14 and 15 demand some application related to the economically vulnerable. And we’ve already looked at what leads into Luke 14-15. Now, let’s consider Luke’s context and flow of thought after Luke 15.

After the lost and found parables in Luke 15, Luke sets up his story-line to contrast the pursuit of possessions and the pursuit of the things of God (16:1-13).

“He who is faithful in a very little thing is faithful also in much; and he who is unrighteous in a very little thing is unrighteous also in much. Therefore if you have not been faithful in the use of unrighteous wealth, who will entrust the true riches to you? And if you have not been faithful in the use of that which is another’s, who will give you that which is your own? No servant can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth” (16:10-13).

The Pharisees recognized that the words were directed at them, for they were scoffing at Jesus: Now the Pharisees, who were lovers of money, were listening to all these things and were scoffing at Him (16:14). Then Jesus points out that the Jerusalem leadership, who were lovers of money, attempted to justify themselves before man rather than seeking to please God (16:14-15). Interestingly Jesus appeals to the issue of divorce to highlight the way in which the Jerusalem leadership selectively appeals to parts of the Law to justify themselves. The point will be that the whole Law must be kept.

The divorce reference is a backward look at Deuteronomy 24. It is mostly overlooked that Deuteronomy 24 is contextually about “the poor” and the economically vulnerable. In Deut 24 the divorced woman would be considered economically vulnerable, which fits the fuller context of the chapter. In 24:17 there is the command, “You shall not pervert the justice due an alien or orphan, nor take a widow’s garment in pledge” (v. 17). And then, in vv 19-21, we find the gleaning law is set to protect and provide for the alien, orphan, and the widow—a group consistently referred to throughout Exodus-Deuteronomy as economically vulnerable.

The next teaching centers on a contrast between “a rich man” and “a poor man Lazarus” (Luke 16:19ff.). The conclusion of this parable speaks to the danger of being wealthy and being unconcerned for the poor. This parable illustrates Jesus’ point of keeping the whole Law and the Prophets. This parable hinges on the issue of poverty. No matter how one reads it, it is there.

Following the rich man-poor Lazarus contrast, we run into a “foreigner” who is a leper, grateful to be cleansed by Jesus (Luke 17). Then we encounter a widow looking for justice (Luke 18). In Luke 19 a tax-collector, Zacchaeus, enters into the realm of faith, and as a testimony of his new found commitment to following Jesus, he pledges to give to the poor and return what he had defrauded:

But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount” (Luke 19:8).

Back in Luke 15, the three parable of lost things (which includes the prodigal), each story highlights something that is lost, sought for, and found. Interestingly Jesus concludes the Zacchaeus event with words that are linked back to the parables in Luke 15: “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost” (vv. 9-10).

Shortly, after a series of confrontations between Jesus and the Jerusalem leadership—and right before Jesus’ judgment on the temple (in chapter 21), we encounter the “poor widow” whose last pennies were required of her just so she can participate in temple activities. Jesus’ final observation fits well with the overall teaching that contrasts those who pursue wealth and status at the expense of or unconcern for the poor.

As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. “I tell you the truth,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on” (Luke 21:1-4).

The emphasis, overall, throughout Luke 14-19 contrasts the rich that give out of their wealth and the poor who are forced to give just to survive out of their poverty. We should also note that Luke 15 and the parable of the two-lost sons, too, ends in poverty, for this is the condition the prodigal son finds himself at the end of the story. The wealthy, well-to-do-son who stays at home, enjoying the fine things of his father’s house, is self-righteous about his position in the house. Isn’t that the condition of all the characters and/or the objects of the lessons (i.e., those the teaching is directed toward) in chapter 14 and, then, 16-21?

There are twenty-four chapters in Luke; eight contain multiple references directly regarding the poor. That’s a third of the content of the Gospel. There is nothing magic here. No secret hidden message. The contrast between the unconcerned wealthy verses the poor and marginalized is obviously throughout the context. The fact that so much of the context concerns the poor, we do injustice to the text if we simply spiritualize the teachings and the parables to be “about my heart,” that is to privatize the application. If we miss what Luke, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, puts in the context, we will not listen well to the text and our hearing of the parable of the prodigal son will be impaired.

At one time or another we’re all accused of not listening. Worse, we’ve been accused of selective hearing. Both of these shortcomings find their way into our interpretation of biblical passages, as well. We tend not to listen to the original author’s flow of thought. And worse, we can have selective hearing. Too often we treat the Bible as a super-grocery store, where each verse, sometimes even each phrase, or each word is a separate item to be purchased on its own apart from what the author has been and will be saying—purchased, if you will, out of context.

Imagine how you feel when this happens to your thoughts, spoken or written, when someone lifts only a part, out of context, out of the flow of your thought, and does with it as they please. And no one needs to tell me how they feel when others selectively hear only what they want to hear when you have something to say (or write for that matter). These are very good reasons from our own personal experience to be mindful to consider the biblical author’s wider context and flow of thought as well. Getting to know the wider context helps our listening to the text under study. Here, in this case, Luke 14-15.

Listening to the wider context of Luke 14-15: Even before we encounter the parables in Luke 14-15, we hear that all people face the same judgment as sinners, no matter one’s public persona, status, religiosity, or the “appearance” that some look less than or more “sinful” than others. All must repent or likewise perish (13:1-5). We learn that a fig-tree not bearing fruit is to be cut down (13:6-9). We hear of a sickly, poor woman, uncared for by the leadership, healed of a long term illness and the synagogue leadership finding this intolerable because the healing took place on the Sabbath (13:10-17). We learn that the Kingdom of God is like a garden with a large-branching tree that grows in its midst that offers the birds of the air safety and rest (vv. 18-19). A little digging here and we discover the reference to the tree is from the Old Testament (Dan 4:10; Ez 17:23; 31:3; Ps 92:12), implying a righteous king would protect and provide shelter, protection and subsidence to all its vulnerable subjects. We encounter Jesus teaching in one city and then the next, learning that just because someone looks outwardly like they belong at the banquet, they are not necessarily invited to the table in the Kingdom of God (vv. 22-30). Nonetheless, Jesus tells us that many will come from all four corners of the known world to recline at the table (v. 30). And finally, as the text pivots toward Luke 14, we discover that the Jerusalem leadership seeks to dispel and dismiss Jesus out of fear that His teaching will rock the political boat (vv. 31-35).

The immediate context to Luke 14-15 is essential to hearing the banquet and prodigal son parables. We encounter in chapter 13 a series of episodes and teachings that highlight the conflict Jesus has with the Jerusalem leadership. We hear that status is mere mirage, granting illusionary comfort to those with power. The presence of the Kingdom exposes and changes everything.

The juxtaposed elite and the economically vulnerable: Luke has created a narrative world that juxtaposes Jesus’ conflict with Jerusalem leadership and those who are affected by the issues of poverty. There is little doubt, as in the other synoptic Gospels (Matthew and Mark), that Jesus has an issue with the Jerusalem leadership and the religious elite. As Jesus begins to teach and perform healings (5:17), the scribes and Pharisees ask, “Who is this man who speaks blasphemies? Who can forgive sins, but God alone?” (5:21). It isn’t long before the Jerusalem leadership complains and grumbles, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” (5:30). Again “some Pharisees” begin to question Jesus’ Sabbath-keeping, asking, “Why do you do what is not lawful on the Sabbath?” (6:2). They continue to watch Him closely, so they can keep up the accusations (6:7). Luke indicates that while Jesus was about God’s business, the Pharisees and temple-lawyers had “rejected God’s purpose for themselves, not having been baptized by John” (7:30).

Mostly, all common folk were Pharisee in religious framework. The common, non-elite were typically poor, yet pious, peasant farmers and artisans that made up the general population. However, the Jerusalem leadership considered them as outsiders, “sinners” who do not know the Law. While at a dinner with some leading Pharisees, a woman had slipped, unnoticed at first, into the party and begun to anoint Jesus’ feet with alabaster perfume (7:36-38). The host Pharisee complained, “If this man were a prophet He would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching Him, that she is a sinner” (7:39).

Luke is setting up a dividing line between insiders and outsiders both materially and religiously. Jesus, however, was breaking down that wall: Jesus “allowed” sinners, the unclean and outsiders, to touch Him and He reciprocated by spending time with them. Jesus interacted with the religiously unclean, the ceremonially unwashed, and the demon-possessed (cf. Luke 11).This isn’t simply a “works righteous” crowd (the religiously elite) verses a “faith righteousness” crowd, for all are sinners and in need of repentance. It is far better and more in line with the narrative to see Luke making an insider-outsider storyline, one where Jesus is rewriting the definitions of insider and outsider because the Kingdom has arrived. This is highlighted in Luke 11:39 where the Pharisees complaint that Jesus is consorting with the religiously unclean. Jesus responsed, “Now you Pharisees clean the outside of the cup and of the platter; but inside of you, you are full of robbery and wickedness” (11:39). And then, He strongly rebukes:

“But woe to you Pharisees! For you pay tithe of mint and rue and every kind of garden herb, and yet disregard justice and the love of God; but these are the things you should have done without neglecting the others. Woe to you Pharisees! For you love the chief seats in the synagogues and the respectful greetings in the market places” (11:42-43).

Jesus rebukes their elite status and relates their “separateness” to the issue of justice. Afterward, it is clear that the scribes and Pharisees became very hostile and continue to confronted and questioned Jesus (11:53). Jesus warns His followers to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which He clearly marks as hypocrisy (12:2).

As we enter into parables and teachings of chapters 14 and 15, Luke readies us to think in terms of “an elite” who separate themselves from the marginalized and poor. This is in the text; deciding what to do with it rests in our desire to apply what we hear from the context and Luke 14-15. As we prepare for the banquet (chapter 14) and are set to enter into the parables of lost things (chapter 15), we find ourselves equally sinners as those who are marginalized among us. We are prepared to question whether our habits of the heart make us “an elite” who separate ourselves from ensuring that all people, including the poor and marginalized, are sought out to be a part of the table at God’s Kingdom.

In 1967 Spencer Tracy, Katharine Hepburn, and Sidney Poitier starred in a ground breaking movie, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, a rather distressing drama on the controversial subject of interracial marriage. Joanna ‘Joey’ Drayton, a young white woman had fallen in love with a black man. Returning home with her new found love, Dr. John Prentice, played by Sidney Poitier, the story revolves around the reactions of family and friends to this discomforting situation. At a time when the United States was dealing with issues of racism as a cultural sin, this movie drew upon the difficulty of overcoming a very bad social habit of the heart. At one point Dr. Prentice quipped to Joanna, “After all, a lot of people are going to think we are a shocking pair.”

Luke introduces a series of parables and teaching in Luke 14-19 by asking a rather poignant question: Guess who’s coming to dinner? The parable of the guests and dinner banquet begin a section in Luke’s Gospel that can make the listening community of faith rather uncomfortable.

In the following thread, we will take a look at Luke 14-15, famous for the parables of the Great Banquet and, of course, the prodigal son. The goal is to listen to the text to determine, in light of Jesus’ coming and the arrival of God’s kingdom, whose company the Christian community is to keep—in other words, who’s coming to dinner? The series of parables and teachings in this section (which extends to Luke 19) deal with the Christian community’s association to outsiders. Our task is to listen to the text and hear which outsiders Luke has in mind—and what it might mean for local Christian communities. Through the teaching in this section of Luke’s Gospel, the Christian community will discover they are to be associated to the economically vulnerable and to the poor. An uncomfortable situation, like the family in the 1967 movie, that today’s non-poor Christians must face: the uniting together those of evangelical faith with the populations that are affected by the pangs of poverty. In some sense, similar to Dr. Prentice’s comment to Joanna in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, the confessing evangelical should hear, a lot of people are going to think they are a shocking pair.

And He began speaking a parable to the invited guests when He noticed how they had been picking out the places of honor at the table, saying to them, “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for someone more distinguished than you may have been invited by him, and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this man,’ and then in disgrace you proceed to occupy the last place. But when you are invited, go and recline at the last place, so that when the one who has invited you comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will have honor in the sight of all who are at the table with you. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” And He also went on to say to the one who had invited Him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, otherwise they may also invite you in return and that will be your repayment. But when you give a reception, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, since they do not have the means to repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.” When one of those who were reclining at the table with Him heard this, he said to Him, “Blessed is everyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” (Luke 14:7-15).

Luke 14 and the Parable of the Banquet: Much of the teaching found in Luke 14-19 make reference to various economically vulnerable populations that are affected by the issues of poverty. This is overlooked, perhaps ignored by most contemporary, self-sufficient, “I-did-it-on-my-own,” suburban Christians. Nonetheless, whatever we are to make of these parables and teachings, they force the listener of the text to consider who’s coming to dinner—who is supposed to be at the table, in the fellowship, part of the community of believers as it is presented in the Gospel.

Luke 14 begins a set of parables that stem from the conflict existing between Jesus and the Jerusalem leadership, the Pharisees (14:1), as well as from “scribes” and “chief priests” as indicated throughout Luke 5-15. As we begin, there was “man suffering from dropsy” (v. 2) and noting the demeaner of the “special honored guests,” some lawyers and pharisees, Jesus asks them, “Is of lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?” (v. 3). Dispite their silence, Jesus heals the unhonored guest. We know the parables are addressing something about Jesus’ Sabbath question, for immediately the texts says, And He began speaking a parable to the invited guests when He noticed how they had been picking out the places of honor at the table (v. 7). Somehow the answer about dinner guests is related to the question of healing the sickly man at the party on the Sabbath: the issue of healing a sick person on the Sabbath is followed by a parable related to the jockeying of the house guest for the best positions at the table (14:7-11) and excuses for not attending an upcoming dinner-party (14:15-20) and who should be invited to the dinner (14:12-14 and 14:21-23).

The problem of pride and status clouds the hearts of those who should be more mindful about who should be at the table—who should be among the invited guests. The “positions-of-pride” teaching is directly related to ensuring that those associated with the issues of poverty, the outcasts, the marginalized (out on the streets and back alleys) are invited; those who cannot repay (or support the church budget!) are to be invited (14:12-14). In fact the teaching includes the command, do not invite your friends or brothers or relative or rich neighbors (v. 12). Now that will take a lot of undoing and spinning on the application level for any preacher! Because in my application I have heard over the last thirty-some years as a Christian is that we are to reach out to our family, friends, and acquaintances. But there it is, in the text. This list—this teaching—puts the outreach beyond our circle of comfort. Then if the first teaching wasn’t clear enough, the follow-up parable makes it crystal:

Go out at once into the streets and lanes of the city and bring in here the poor and crippled and blind and lame (v. 21).

And when it is noticed that there is still room, the command is given to go back out and find more (v. 22) .

This is the lead teaching as we enter into the three parables of lost things being found (Luke 15). Before we even get to the famous parable of the prodigal son, are preconceived notions of what it means and how we should apply it should be informed by the teaching in Luke 14—if we are listening.

So, first, we are instructed to forsake pride and status, for we have no right to be at the table of Christ and it clouds the issue of who else should be invited to the table of the Kingdom. Second, the clash between our perceived status in society can hinder us from being at the table ourselves and keep us from welcoming others of lesser status to join the Kingdom banquet. And third, noting the emphasis in the text, the community of listeners (community of believers) should intentionally reach out beyond its comfortable neighbors and seek out those at the margins of society to be welcomed guests of the faith community.

While sitting in a biology class we read a rather famous 1977 Time magazine article about evolution and the renown anthropologist Richard Leakey. Two things stood out: one, there were a lot of gaps in the fossil record. From that groundbreaking essay we read:

Scientists concede that even their most cherished theories are based on embarrassingly few fossil fragments, and that huge gaps exist in the fossil record. Anthropologists, ruefully says Alan Mann of the University of Pennsylvania, “are like the blind men looking at the elephant, each sampling only a small part of the total reality.” His colleagues agree that the picture of man’s origins is far from complete (Time, November 7, 1977).

Additionally, there was also some circular reasoning applied to the age of the earth and of animal life on the planet. At one point the article indicated that we know the age of the fossils because we know the age of the rocks. But a little later in the article, a reversal happened: we know the age of the rocks because we can date the age of the fossils. Although I am sure more up-to-date dating systems have come about, the idea of gaps and circular science have always intrigued me as I have read and debated the subject of atheistic evolution.

Now, after over thirty years of being a Christian, I still find it incredible that we attempt to explain the existence and totality of all creation and animal life on this planet through the lens of evolutionary theory—still filling in gaps through speculation and assumption, which some call, and legitimately so, faith. Atheistic scientists might not turn to a god-of-the-gaps to fill in unexplained answers and holes in the theory, but they are taking a whole lot of their assumptions by faith to fill in the gaps—kind of an atheism-of-faith-for-all-the-gaps. Ironic.

However, atheists and hard core agnostics dismiss the idea of a deity creating the known universe, because we are now “scientific.” We’ve come of age, now, and need to stop relying on the superstitious ideas of our pre-scientific ancestors. We were once an ignorant people who attributed creation to “the gods.” Now, we have science; faith and religion are not necessary to explain the origins of our known material universe. Are the atheistic scientists on to something here? Is this the knockout punch against a deity beyond creation?

Stephen Hawking suggests, in The Grand Design., that ancient people were ignorant of nature and invented gods to explain life as they experienced it. Eventually, with updates along the way by Greeks and then Roman thinkers, and then even more so as the ancient world civilized and developed a more scientific world, the gods began to fill the gaps in humankind’s imagination concerning all the stuff of creation. Hawkins and other atheists say that over time and human development, people began to notice that nature followed consistent patterns and observable principles. This began the long march, as Hawking put it, of replacing the reign of the gods with the reign of nature, and eventually the reign of the laws of nature. So, is this adequate? Does this finish off the Christian argument for a Creator?

Atheists seem to confuse the concept of “the gods” with the biblical concept of “God.” Their poor theology and understanding of God hinders them from being truly objective in making their case, for it is colored by misconceptions of the biblical God and of the creation account. There is no biblical God-of-the-gaps; but, the Christian God is the God of the whole creation, of all the stuff, the explained and the unexplained.

Hawking argues that we don’t need the gods to have a “created” universe,

“Because there is a law such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing… Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist … It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the universe going.”

Oh, Really? For the atheist, “a law,” and in this case the law of gravity, not a god or gods explain creation. But we have, in this scientific explanation, nothing with gravity, which isn’t nothing, but nothing and gravity. So we end up back at the start of the argument—something existed before the something of our current material universe. How? Where? There are still metaphysical and faith assumptions.

Then the atheist scientist asserts, we can recreate the something of the first creation from nothing through scientific experiments that we can observe. The problem: The atheist scientist starts with stuff to do his or her experiment to prove something came from nothing. They don’t start with nothing. Where’s the stuff of the lab come from? That’s cheating. All the atheistic scientist can say is that he or she observed something being created by the equipment in the laboratory (the stuff of the experiment). The atheist is back at the beginning of the argument: no scientific, observable explanation of how the stuff of creation got here; just metaphysical assumptions.

The gaps in the evolutional theory are conjecture and filled with assumptions (and the plea for more and more time, billions, just add billions of years (again faith assumptions, not science)—evolutionary scientists need to fill the gaps for what is not known. Christianity and its reliance on the biblical accounts of creation do not have a god-of-the-gaps, but a God who brought all into existence through the spoken word, a God of the whole stuff of the material universe.

I find it much more reasonable to believe there is a Creator who created the stuff. In the end, Hawking’s and his compatriot atheistic scientists’ argument isn’t science; it is philosophical, metaphysical. They start with assumptions—metaphysical assumptions about the universe and then proceed to science. And atheists say Intelligent Design isn’t science.

“He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys” ~ C.S. Lewis, Screwtape Letters

    I will say to God my rock, “Why have You forgotten me?
    Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”
    As a shattering of my bones, my adversaries revile me,
    While they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”
    Why are you in despair, O my soul?
    And why have you become disturbed within me?
    Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him,
    The help of my countenance and my God (King David, Ps 42:9-11)

Popular anti-Intelligent Design volumes have hit bookstores near you, written by some of the brightest minds in the world, taking on the tedious topic of nothing. Imagine, whole books written about nothing. One might think this worthy of a Seinfeld episode. The best known are Stephen Hawking’s The Grand Design (2010) and, more recently, A Universe from Nothing (2012) by Lawrence Krause. These great minds believe that by redefining nothing to mean something, atheistic science can forever put to rest the notion of a deity behind the something we call the material universe.

Krause writes that the “long-held theological claim” that something is created out of nothing is “spurious,” because “modern science” has completely changed “our conception of the very words ‘something’ and ‘nothing.’” He asserts that we know, now, that “‘something’ and ‘nothing’ are physical concepts and therefore are properly the domain of science, not theology or philosophy.” While I grant that nothing as we know it in our universe isn’t the total absence of something—for even a vacuum has physical properties—however, attempting to redefine nothing as actually being something is a red herring in the creation debate. For Krause and other atheists confuse what creationists actually mean when they assert that the universe was created out of nothing, ex nilo.

There is a problem with applying the concept ex nilo (out of nothing) to the Genesis creation account. It gives the impression that something was created out of what existed as nothing. The atheistic scientist has figured out how to use the creationist’s own term against the argument for a Creator-God. Cleaver. But not exactly what is implied in the biblical creation account. The Creator did not create the something (the material world) out of the existing nothing. For the creationist the Creator made “something” and before this, that “something” did not exist.

God did not create the universe “out of the nothing” that existed. At one point this universe did not exist, then, the Creator brought it into existence. According to the Genesis account, God created the material universe by the spoken word (“Let there be…and there was…”), not out of the nothing. God spoke the cosmos into existence, creating the universe and all it contains. This is important, for one can agree with Hawking and Krause that nothing is something with physical properties, but this does not address the issue of creation. So we are back, nonetheless, at the central issue, how’d the stuff of the universe get here? Redefining nothing as something doesn’t put that question to rest.

Like most evolutionary concepts, more time is needed, so the atheistic scientist moves the clock—the starting point—back a bit more to a time when nothing (which is something) existed before the Big Bang that brought about the current known material universe. But this continues to beg the question, how even the stuff of nothing get here? No one can escape the metaphysical questions about our universe. At least an intelligent design is a sound rationale, than attempting to offer a metaphysical assumption that something spring out of nothing and that nothing just existed. It seems, still, reasonable, to see a deity behind the stuff of creation.

Let’s start with science, at least in the realm of what has been and can be experienced by us mere human beings. We can pretty much assume this hypothesis to be true, namely that the simplistic to the most complex material things (inanimate and animate) are created. Our experience and experiments and observation verify this. Just find something that was not created ... anything. Whether it’s a watch or a baby, or the first single-celled life form in the primordial slim—everything was created (of course we can’t see that happening). Everything from simple matter to matter filled with complexity has been created. No material thing, in our experience, just pops up and exists. Even scientists claiming to have repeated the creation moment of the Big Bang, stand behind what was “created” as, well the creators.

Craig Venter, a geneticist, with 20 other scientists, in 2010 “built” the first genome of a bacterium from what they call “scratch” and incorporated it into a cell, making the world’s first synthetic life form. It took more than ten years, with 40 million dollar cost tag, and a whole lot of equipment (which needed to be created). And, oh, yes there were 21 creators of for this micro-small “from scratch” life form to come into existence.

Now, I acknowledge that time and some measure of evolution is also a process that has brought about some forms of life and animals. (We can debate the concept of “new” life forms, but for some other time.) This does not mean I throw my support behind Darwinism, but only allowing for the natural adaptation of animate life to adjust, adapt. However, at one point the material—living or not—(wherever it came from) had to follow certain laws to be, well, created. No? I believe this is so, for even science demonstrates this.

So in a very lite display, there you have it, everything created has a creator. Now we move to options for causality. What was this creator? Borrowing some ideas from a well known physicist and Nobel Laureate, Sir John Polkinghorne, we have two plausible options: Chance or Creator? The odds or intentional? Random or design?

Here we go.

First: All this stuff, the material, living or not, could have been created in a multi-universe creation, where hundred, no millions of universes somehow existed, somehow started (how is another question, but let’s not get too philosophical at this point) and as the odds would have it, the right stuff (wherever that right stuff came from) mixed with the right conditions with the right sequence and combined just the right way and, then, one of these universes popped created things with, among the material, the potential for life and eventually sentient beings called humans. Now I guess that is possible, but not scientifically provable—that is through experiments (can’t go back there)—but, given the millions of universes and the odds, it is a reasonable, rational explanation of how all the stuff got created.

Or, there is another possibility, based on the science and our experience that that all created things have a creator, whether it be material created things or laws that made it possible, for laws cannot exist unless something created exists for the laws to play on. To say otherwise is not science, but metaphysical pondering...a guess.

And speaking about guessing, the supposed existence of many universes is also a metaphysical assumption, for we have no experience of them. So, the multi universes answer or choice is built on philosophical assumptions, a guess, not science. (This is where atheistic science is becoming closer to a religion than it will admit to.)

So there you have it, two possibilities for how creation—the stuff—was created. Both metaphysical in nature. Both, for argument’s sake, a guess. But the intelligent creator seems reasonable, yes even more rational as an answer to how all this created stuff get here. Turning to the Big Bang doesn’t answer ... for in the multi universe scenario, we must have multi big bangs (millions and millions) just to get one right for material and life to come into being, playing the odds. Hey, look at that universe over there, matter and life happened. Damn. That’s something, ain’t it? This is out of our experience, something assumed, a metaphysical guess. But in our experience we know created things have a creator, so there is a more reasonable explanation that matches our experience, that is, to think that there is an intelligent creator, who is uncreated, who stands behind creation.

This is a good place to start. Haven’t argued for a specific creator, just a reasonable, rational assumption that an uncreated creator exists to explain how matter and life was, well, created.

Put another way: Big bang x a millions of times over x time = matter x more time = life x even more time x the right sequence at the exact specifications = human beings who can think and act and create.

“Hey, look at that human over there acting all sentient and all...go figure. What are the odds?” It seems hard to believe, but possible ... yet a very unlikely guess. So, I’ll take what seems to me the more rational of the options: a Creator.