In the meantime, when so many thousands of people had gathered together that they were trampling one another, he began to say to his disciples first, “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed . . .” Luke 12:1-2a
The crowd is becoming a mob: so many they’re pressing in on every side, even trampling each other. It’s a friendly mob—for now. A leadable mob. How many tyrants before or since have played to just such a crowd, putting on shows of outrage or grievance to sway them?
That’s not how the Kingdom comes. Fresh from outraging and grieving the Pharisees, Jesus isolates himself momentarily from the crowd, warning his friends that they are not immune from hypocrisy. The Kingdom is not to be paraded as a show or gussied up in false piety. They won’t get away with it if they try: There is nothing covered that won’t be uncovered, nothing hidden that won’t be made known.
As for the people, his fans (he’s still talking to the disciples): Don’t trust them. And don’t fear them. This may have sounded strange to his hearers—weren’t the people on their side? Why is he talking about fear? Look at these thousands: all he has to do is say the word and they’ll rush to arms! They would mob Jerusalem, thrust Herod from his palace and the gushing Sadducees from the Temple, and put Jesus over both. With a single word he could move them to the left or right; he’s in control. Which means we’re in control. But wait a minute–
“Fear Him who has the power to throw body and soul into hell.”
Perhaps he gestures downhill at the milling throng. “All they can do is kill you. He can curse you forever. And he will. They can be easily deceived; he never will be. You can whisper a word in your closet, and he’ll shout that word from the rooftops. He knows your plans before you do; you’ll never out-think him.”
They get it. He’s not talking about the devil or some existential enemy: he’s talking about God Himself. This is sounding ominous–whom to fear, what to guard against, forgiveness withdrawn for blaspheming the Holy Spirit (whatever that means), standing up to authorities . . . So it’s not going to be unbroken triumph from now one?
And Jesus has been claiming to be God’s son—why does he talk as though God could be an enemy? Even though each one of us is worth more than many sparrows. (Well, that’s a comfort! Er, how many sparrows, exactly?)
And what does he mean by whoever denies me before men? Who would deny Jesus? Look how many are vigorously affirming him, even to trampling on each other in their enthusiasm! And this Holy Spirit he keeps talking about . . .
Oh, good: the private discourse is over. Their heads are starting to hurt. Back to the crowd, and some unambiguous, full-throated affirmation.
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Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” But he said, “Man, who made me a judge or arbitrator over you?” Luke 12:13-14
It stands to reason that, if Messiah can heal diseases, he can fix family disputes, too. Especially if one side is clearly right and the other wrong. “Lord, he’s not sharing. Tell my brother he has to share.” Who wouldn’t sympathize? Who hasn’t been through a family wrangle over the will, or at least heard of relatives who are no longer speaking to each other after she got what dad clearly promised to him?
“Friend,” Jesus addresses him—though most translations use “Man,” a more distant form of address. Or how about “Dude”? We can imagine slight variations implied in each form:
Friend: (You’re not going to like my answer, but try to listen.)
Man: (Buck up, because I’m not going to answer your question.)
Dude: (What kind of question is that, anyway?)
There’s a name for people who sift out arguments and determine the best way forward, and that is Judge. Jesus is not the judge. It’s not his job to help people get along with each other or restore family harmony–in fact, as he’ll reveal later on, he may divide families. Everyday virtues like sharing are secondary to the establishment of his Kingdom.
And amassing wealth may be directly antithetical to it. Possessions do not equal life. He has a story about that: The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, “What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops.” And he said, “I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and all my goods.” The man in his story is a type most of his hearers would consider virtuous and blessed. Also prudent. Didn’t Joseph build storehouses for the overflow of Egyptians harvests, in order to have enough during hard times? You never know what will happen—in a world like this, it’s wise to be ready for anything. And if famine comes, won’t he have enough to sell to his neighbors? But while storing up his wheat and barley he also stores his heart. That’s why God calls him
FOOL!
What a shock runs through the crowd! This is the last person they would have labeled a fool; his actions are all the opposite of foolish. Diligent husbandry, wise thrift, care for the future, enjoyment of a well-deserved reward—what’s wrong with any of that?
He’s rich from God, but not rich toward God. Amassing wealth is not the problem; investing it is not the problem. The problem is what amassing is for and what investing is in. God has invested in this man’s life and received no return. Therefore, the life is forfeit.
Do they get it? Or is this one of those teachings that will eventually cause the wheels to come off the gospel bus and bring it to a screeching halt?
For the first post in this series, go here.
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