Committed Critic

When we talk about spiritual growth, a key point to learn is the distinction between motive and action. God, it seems, wants us not only to do what is right, but also to do it for the right reason.

Looking to straighten out their motives, Christians might turn to Matthew 6:1-4, where Jesus teaches,

Take care not to perform your righteousness in the sight of humans, to be seen by them; if you do, you will receive no wage from your father who is in heaven. Instead, when you perform your righteousness, don’t blast a trumpet in front of you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they will be honored by humans. Truly I tell you, they already receive their wage in full.

But as for you, when you give alms, your left hand should not know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms are given in secret. And your father, who sees what is done in secret, will pay you back.

I’m not sure this passage tells us exactly what we want to hear, if we’re approaching it with normal ideas about Christian spirituality. Though we want Jesus to send us into our own hearts looking for good motives, Jesus appears more concerned with how alms are given than with why alms are given. In the case of the hypocrite, it appears that the two are the same: he wants to be seen giving alms, so he does it publicly.

But for the disciple, Jesus never really gets at why she should give. He doesn’t seem to insist here that the giver have pure motives, or that she even care about the people she’s helping. In fact, the use of the word “wages” sort of sets up the whole thing as a trade-off. It seems that Jesus uses our hope for reward as motivation to do good.

The question, as he presents it, is not whether we have pure motives, or whether we would give if no one were looking at all. All Jesus talks about is who will see us––God or humans.

If we don’t pay attention, we can be tempted to out-spiritualize Jesus. When it comes to caring for the poor, Christians naturally want to make sure we have right motives and to put our hearts into the help we give others. Some good-natured folks who wish to avoid works righteousness might even say something like, “It’s really not about what we do; what God really wants is our hearts.” And I think this reflects something important for Christians.

However, while God does want our hearts, for us to act as if our own spirituality should be our focus in things like helping the poor surely leads us away from what God really wants. As my friend Matt has written before on his blog (or maybe mine), when God tells us to feed the poor, God may hope to win our hearts over so that we give cheerfully (thus 2 Corinthians 8–9), but we should probably assume that what God really wants is something a lot simpler: for the poor to have food to eat, houses to live in, and jobs to work at.

I think it is instructive that the prophets call the people of Israel to stop offering sacrifices because they aren’t taking care of the poor, not the other way around.

I bring all this up because of a blog post I read this week by Larry James, who runs a major food pantry and community development center in Texas called Central Dallas Ministries.

He suggests that a lot of people, when they say they want to “really make a difference,” rather than “just throw money at a problem,” actually mean they want to make a difference in their own life. In other words, their spirituality is turned inwards, so that they don’t feel they’re doing anything good if they can’t really put their heart into it and get involved.

James, however, suggests that often, the best way to make a genuine difference in the life of someone who struggles with poverty is indeed to throw money — lots of it — at organizations that help people in need. Heart-warming experiences are great, but money puts a lot more food on people’s plates.

Last week I bought lunch for a panhandler in Boston. We had a nice conversation, and I think it was absolutely worth my time and money to share that meal with a nice fellow who frankly seemed more lonely than poor. But I shouldn’t kid myself that I was somehow fighting poverty by the $6 is spent on him. I’m sure it was a nice change for him, and of course I get to feel sort of virtuous about the whole thing. But in the end, that kind of experience is no substitute for giving a substantial portion of my income to people like Larry James who know how to work within poor communities to improve people’s lives.

Maybe at some point in my life I’ll make the time to really participate in an organization like that, but in the meantime it would be a tragedy if I used my failure to give time as an excuse not to give money either.

So if you have the time, please read Larry James’ post, because I think it will help you grow. In fact, subscribe to his daily blog on your rss feeder: larryjamesurbandaily.blogspot.com.

But once you’re done reading it, please give to his organization, and then keep giving regularly every month. I really doubt in this case that God is as concerned with what you learn from Larry James as God is with whether people have jobs, homes, and food.

I’ve read Revelation a lot lately, so I thought I’d probe it theologically a bit and see what I find. For this post, I want to highlight the central conflict of the book using three key passages. Later, I’ll tease out some of the implications of the book for a more general understanding of the Gospel.

Three quick notes:

• Revelation was written by someone named John (1:1), but it is not at all clear whether this is the apostle or some other John.
• Because of the book’s extensive imagery and symbolism, I take it not as a description of specific future events, but rather as a set of images reassuring believers that God would be faithful to them in their need and their suffering.
• See Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. It’s stinking funny, which is rare for a comedy these days.

Now to the book, beginning with some lengthy excerpts. John wrote to Christians persecuted by Rome, and Revelation portrays the struggle as two beasts lined up against a lamb:

I saw another beast that rose out of the earth; it had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon. It exercises all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and it makes the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast … it deceives the inhabitants of earth, telling them to make an image for the beast … and it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast so that the image of the beast could even speak and cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be killed. Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. This calls for wisdom: let anyone with understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a person. Its number is 666. (Rev 13:11-18, NRSV)

Note two common misconceptions here. First, 666 is not the number of Satan, but the number of a person, perhaps a code referring to the maniacal Roman emperor Nero. So the dragon (= Satan) gives his power to the first beast (Rome?), whose authority is exercised by the second beast (the emperor?). Second, the “mark of the beast” is not some creepy satanic ritual practiced by a few devotees, but a widespread sign of loyalty which almost everyone accepts towards the reigning power of the world. In John’s context, this probably meant participation in the widespread civic worship of the Roman deities.

But Christians participate in worship of only one God:

Then I looked, and there was the Lamb, standing on Mount Zion! And with him were 144,000 who had his name and his Father’s name written on their foreheads. And I heard a voice from heaven like the sound of many waters and like the sound of loud thunder; the voice I heard was like the sound of harpists playing on their harps, and they sing a new song before the throne and before the four living creatures and before the elders. No one could learn that song except the 144,000 who have been redeemed from the earth. It is these who have not defiled themselves with women, for they are virgins; these follow the Lamb wherever he goes. They have been redeemed from humankind as first fruits for God and the Lamb, and in their mouth no lie was found; they are blameless. (Rev 14:1-5, NRSV)

Parts of the passage are obscure; presumably virginity isn’t an actual prerequisite for following Christ, though it seems clear that purity is. But the key here is the mark: in contrast to the world, whose devotees receive the mark of the beast so they can carry on in society, followers of Christ receive on their foreheads only the mark of the Lamb.

With the sides defined, conflict is inevitable:

Then I saw heaven opened, and there was a white horse! Its rider is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems; and he has a name inscribed that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is called The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, wearing fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron; he will tread the wine press of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name inscribed, “King of kings and Lord of lords.”

Then I saw an angel standing in the sun, and with a loud voice he called to all the birds that fly in midheaven, “Come, gather for the great supper of God, to eat the flesh of kings, the flesh of captains, the flesh of the mighty, the flesh of horses and their riders––flesh of all, both free and slave, both small and great.” Then I saw the beast and the kings of the earth with their armies gathered to make war against the rider on the horse and against his army. And the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet [the second beast] who had performed in its presence the signs by which he deceived those who had received the mark of the beast and those who worshiped its image. These two were thrown alive into the lake of fire that burns with sulfur. And the rest were killed by the sword of the rider on the horse, the sword that came from his mouth; and all the birds were gorged with their flesh. (Rev 19:11-21, NRSV)

The passage is violent, but note that Christians are never called to harm anyone; it is the rider on the horse –– Christ himself –– who is described as vanquishing his enemies. The violence is in response to the persecution and murder of Christians by the most powerful civilization in the history of the world. Believers longed for vindication (6:10), and Revelation reassured them that their martyrdom was not in vain. No matter how powerful Rome may appear, John’s vision says, God ultimately will triumph.

However, humans first must choose sides, and it is here that we must take care interpreting the book. Are Christians meant to find ourselves in the book, as many these days suggest, by aligning ourselves essentially with America’s Republican party over against gays, feminists, abortion doctors, Muslims, and Communists?

I prefer to push in a different direction, which challenges us all rather than allowing us to set ourselves up too easily against those who may offend us, even if some of them indeed oppose God. I believe the mark of the beast represents, at its core, worldliness. The countless people of Rome received the mark of the beast not because they set out to do something evil, but because they wanted to fit in and enjoy all society had to offer. They wanted to be respected by their neighbors, and to participate in the marketplace with everyone else (13:17).

And it seems to me that nothing about American society is quite so worldly as our primary obsession: Wealth.

As powerrful as Rome was, Revelation’s chapter (18) of laments for the city focuses not so much on its power as on its wealth. The lament describes the USA as aptly as it does ancient Rome. We might not recognize our obsession with wealth as worship on par with what the Romans demanded of first-century Christians, but Scripture equates greed with idolatry, and Jesus called Mammon a master who could be served. And our society (from ad execs to politicians) sells us nothing quite so effectively as the pursuit of wealth.

Already we hardly find room in our heads for Christ amidst thoughts of what we wish to purchase. Perhaps it’s melodramatic to suggest, but what if each newer car, each faster computer, each bigger house serves only to etch the mark of the beast deeper and deeper into our foreheads?

For 21st-century Americans, the primary message of this confusing apocalypse may come down to the simple question which Jesus himself raised without talk of beasts or dragons:

Who do you serve? God or Money?

Well, I’ve decided to start posting some of my more provocative class papers. This is a new one I’ve wanted to write for a long time. I should note that this essay is based only on the theology of Luke/Acts, but feel free to egage it at whatever level you wish.

He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose. -Jim Elliot, reflecting on Luke 16:9.

The parable of the “unjust steward” (Lk 16:1-9) has fascinated me for some time. I want to propose a reading here of which I actually am not yet convinced myself. But even though Luke may not have intended the interpretation I’ll present, I feel it does reflect the message of Luke/Acts. At any event, this is how I wish I could exegete the parable. The parable and its “moral” (Luke 16:1-9) are grouped with several teachings on money at the start of Luke 9, concluding with the Pharisees’ reaction and Jesus’ response to them.

The story is clear. A house manager is accused of squandering his employer’s things, so the employer informs the manager that he will soon lose his job. Realizing he will lose his livelihood, the manager covertly reduces the debts of some of his employer’s clients, hoping they will offer him shelter when he loses his job and home. The employer learns of the deed and, surprisingly, praises the manager for acting shrewdly.

The interpretation of the parable is more confusing. Luke’s explains, “for the children of this age are more shrewd in their generation than the children of light.” Luke then indicates (16:9) that his readers can learn a specific lesson from the present age: “And I say to you, make friends for yourselves by means of wicked wealth, so that when you pass away, you will be welcomed into eternal shelters.”

The problem with Luke’s explanation is that it doesn’t make clear which points of the parable are intended to relate to the reader. This is a typical dilemma in interpreting parables. Some are to be interpreted allegorically (e.g., the parable of the vineyard, Lk 20:9-19), while others are meant to find only one or two important points of connection (e.g., the parable of the persistent widow, Lk 18:1-8; note that an allegorical interpretation would make God the wicked judge). So in 16:1-9, Luke may wish for his readers to act only on the “moral” of the story, as found in 16:9; if so, the entire lesson is to use wealth to “make friends” (=please God?). My better sensibilities, exegetically speaking, urge me to limit the parable’s lesson to this point.

However, I’m not satisfied. If you look at all of Jesus’ teachings in Luke, surely he means something more. I want to suggest a reading in which the reader’s connection to the steward goes a level deeper, so that the parable is allegorical. To do so, I need to describe how Luke views the various elements of the story (the manager, the kyrios, the possessions being managed, and the relationship among the three).

Within the parable, Luke associates the manager and Wealth with one another by describing both as wicked (or, perhaps, “unjust” or “sordid”). This is the reason the house manager has valuable insight into the use of Wealth; they belong to the same world. Therefore, when Luke includes the manager among the “sons of this age” (16:8b), it would seem he characterizes Wealth as a member of “this age” as well. Perhaps the manager and Wealth are not entirely evil, but neither are they trustworthy. They belong to a different realm than Luke’s readers.

The next point to determine is the identity of the owner. At this point the metaphor either breaks down or becomes very interesting. Within the parable, the owner is a sympathetic character for Luke in that he recognizes that the manager’s behavior is shrewd, an assessment Luke would agree with. So we may wish to conclude that the manager corresponds to God, the true owner of all wealth.

However, there are several problems with seeing God as the owner. First, if Wealth indeed is wicked and belongs to the present age, it would seem odd to place God as its owner in the parable. Second, Luke’s explanatory statement in 16:8b makes better sense if the owner’s praise is based on worldly standards. (Verse 9 then suggests how that worldly wisdom can apply to Luke’s readers.) Third, in the parable the employer praises the manager despite the fact that the manager squandered his wealth for his own ends. It seems unlikely that Luke intends for his readers to act against God’s wishes, but in such a way that God would commend them because they were shrewd in serving their own interests. And fourth, verses 10-12 call Luke’s readers to be faithful with what they have, whereas the hero in the parable is dishonest with what has been entrusted to him. If we take the kyrios of the parable to be God, then verses 10-12 contradict the parable.

If, as I will assume, Luke intended verses 10-12 to further interpret the parable, then the implication seems to be that the faithfulness of 16:10f is to be directed not toward the money’s owner but elsewhere. Someone might manage one person’s money but owe loyalty in that management to another. One possible “real owner” of the money, from Luke’s story, is the devil. When tempting Jesus, it is he who claims that “all the authority and glory” of the world have been handed over to him (4:6). However, it is problematic to regard the devil as the character whose praise of the manager constitutes the moral of Luke’s story. I would suggest instead that we associate Wealth with the present age, such that we see the present age, personified, is its owner. The owner, then, is not the devil, but rather a sort of representative of the present age and its attitude toward Wealth. The present age regards self-preservation as of first importance, so naturally it commends the manager’s behavior.

The manager’s shrewd behavior is grounded in two key dynamics that he is aware of explicitly in the story. First, the wealth he manages is not his own. Because of this, he can influence others by cancelling debts without losing anything of his own. Second, the manager knows that he is about to lose his position as manager. If he were trying to keep his job, it would serve his interests to use the money carefully. But knowing that he cannot hold on to what he has, the next best thing he can do is consider the future. Because he is losing his job, he owes no further loyalty to his employer, and so what he can gain by his use of the money is his only concern.

The story’s great insight is that all people are just like the manager at both of these key points. The person who has accepted Jesus’ eschatalogical message realizes that the wealth he holds so dear was never his own, and soon even the job of managing it will be taken from him. As a result, he owes no further loyalty to its real owner (this world). However, he still has control of the wealth such that he can use it as he sees fit. By winning friends among those in need (helping the poor is a major theme in Luke), he wins a friend in God, and he thereby wins for himself a dwelling for the time when his work as manager has ended.

We find here Jesus calling us to a strange sort of self-preservation; but it is significant to note that it is based on faith in Jesus, because only the one who believes Jesus’ message will see that it is indeed in her best interest to give her money away.

The difficultly for the reader in accepting the parable is accepting that both of these facts are true: the money we handle is not our own, and our access to managing it will soon come to an abrupt end. Once we have accepted these two facts, Jesus in Luke presents us with a startling command through this parable: we are commanded, essentially, to squander our wealth.

This reading will offend a lot of people, for at least two different reasons. Some will protest that such a teaching will lead us to squander our wealth on self-indulgence. Their concern is legitimate, and indeed in the story just before this (the prodigal son), Jesus describes what it looks like to squander wealth inappropriately. However, there is another way to squander wealth, as modeled by the wicked manager. One could give the money away freely to those in need, recklessly distributing wealth with little regard for financial stability or prudence. This kind of squandering offends people as well, because it smacks of irresponsibility. They feel that instead, they should think of ways to use wealth wisely and still glorify God with it. The problem with their interpretation is that it assumes that wealth is good (whereas 16:9 and 16:11 say it is wicked) and that accumulation of wealth can be carried out in moderation (whereas 16:13 intentionally polarizes the issue).

But what if Wealth, as I have suggested, indeed belongs to this world and its ruler? And what if, by managing it “wisely” according to the world’s standards, we serve the world and its ruler? In this reading, serving Wealth amounts to viewing it according to worldly standards, as something to be accumulated and protected. If this is the case, Luke makes clear our choice in 16:13. We can serve either God, or Wealth, but not both. For the Lukan Jesus, I am arguing, the only real alternative to serving Wealth is to squander it, and I believe that is exactly what he indicates/commands with this parable. The only appropriate use for wealth ever described in Luke or Acts (as far as I have found) is to give it away.

Or to put it another way, taking into account the reality of the spiritual situation: the appropriate rebellion against the Wealth that masters us is to squander it for the sake of others, winning friends by giving away what the world holds so dear.