“The last shall be first…”
Sunday 21C 21st August 2022
[Isaiah 66:18-21, Luke 13:22-30]
As a child, I did not have many books, for our family’s limited income was needed for more urgent things. But I delighted in a treasured Christmas present: a picture book of Aesop’s Fables.
Each fable was summed up in a one-line “moral”. In the story of the fox and the stork, it was: “the one who laughs last, laughs longest.” I carried this wisdom to school, but the teacher’s unequal distribution of favours, and a bully’s torments soon taught me that the moral did not work in my life. Like a juvenile Job, I lamented that rosy formulas about how the world worked, did not always apply.
But we can learn from Aesop, and other people of every culture, long before our bible was written, that everyone asks how life works: “Who set this up?” “Are there Gods? What are they like? Will they reward or punish us after we die?”
When we ponder the Bible’s writers’ rich thoughts and emotions, and listen to the best scholars’ interpretations, we see that its wide range of stories and poems is telling us that oppressed peoples – the majority of earth’s population – will “laugh last”, because there is a Transcendent Reality who described itself to the Hebrews as YHWH, the One Who Is. And this Source of all creatures, including us whom it has helped to evolve into consciousness, is on our side.
Jesus came from this Source, telling us the Good News that God’s Reign had begun; that the promises glimpsed by Isaiah – today’s First Reading – and other prophets were true: that one day all peoples will come together in peace, to see and share God’s glory. And the Infinite One is infinitely good, so we are safe… saved.
In today’s reading from Luke, an anonymous “someone” asks Jesus: “…will there be only a few saved?” Jesus doesn’t answer, but instead points out that our life is always a struggle, a narrow path. But in the Beatitudes he had said that whether we struggle against unjust rulers, or famine, or the climate crisis, or loss of our family or home through the madness of war, all our travail is temporary and limited, and can be solved through team-work and the love of others, and of God.
Many of us do not handle the struggle well, living mainly for ourselves, and failing to love others enough. So the gospels are full of warning stories which end in the “good” being separated from the “bad”. But these stories describe our efforts: they don’t necessarily include God’s. God is not detached from our struggle, like the impartial judge of a sporting contest, with no stake in our success or failure. Jesus shows God to be the devoted shepherd; the woman who searches desperately for the small, lost coin; the loving father who forgives his child’s outrageous rudeness and folly. God is the fragile, human Jesus who speaks the truth to the unjust leaders of his religion and of the state, until they torture him to death.
Jesus’ scary fables about punishment warn us what our own selfishness will produce, not what God is capable of. Jesus’ own life shows us God’s infinite love, inextricably involved in our struggle: God living within us, our intimate partner.
According to Isaiah, Jesus and other prophets, the final outcome will be a great feast, to which all are invited. Unlike Aesop’s fable, in which the stork punishes the fox by preventing him from sharing the food, God invites everyone. But Jesus also warned his Jewish contemporaries that the privileges they treasured as the Chosen People did not guarantee them priority. Those who imagine themselves to be first may well come last. The moral? We are not saved by our appearance or religious performance, but only by love. Many will be saved by their love for others, even if they never go near a temple or a church.
* * * * *