Before we hear the gospel lesson I’d like to tell you a story. This is a story that comes to us from the historian Flavius Josephus, in his book The Jewish War. It’s a story that takes place during Jesus’ lifetime, sometime between 18 and 20 AD, and it takes place where he grew up. Many of the players enter the New Testament stories at one point or another. There’s King Herod, for example--Herod the Great. This is the Herod who tries to have Jesus killed in the Nativity story when he hears about a baby who is going to be King of the Jews. One of his sons (also named Herod) is the one who is present at the Crucifixion. But this story is about a different son of Herod the Great-- a son named Archelaus.
His father--Herod the Great--has just died. Archelaus thinks he’s going to inherit his father’s throne, but since the province of Judea is under Roman rule, he has to go through the formality of appearing before Caesar--this would be Tiberius Caesar--and having his kingship confirmed. Archelaus now went to the seaside with his family and friends, and left behind him a steward to be in charge of his palace, and to take care of his domestic affairs. Salome also went along with him, and her sons. In appearance this was to give him all the assistance they were able, so that he might secure his succession. But in reality they would accuse him for his breach of the laws for what he had done at the temple.
Archelaus had committed a brutal crime against Jewish and Roman law several years earlier--he had sent his soldiers into a crowd during the Passover Festival and slaughtered over three thousand people. This crowd was advocating for the removal of some Roman symbols in the temple, the release of political prisoners, lower taxes, and the removal of a corrupt high priest.
Archelaus went on his journey, not knowing that Salome and her sons were also going to accuse him instead of supporting him once he was before Casear. His brother also goes to Caesar to work against him, and some of the stewards that he’s left behind to look after his affairs--it turns out that they are in league against him as well.
While he’s away there is a popular revolt--doubtless the result of some of those very problems that Archelaus was suppressing, like pagan symbols in the temple, corruption among the elites, high taxes, and unfair imprisonments. The leader of this revolt is a shepherd named Athronegus, who announces that he has started a movement to establish the Kingdom of God. We don’t officially know what happens to Athronegus, but the revolt is unsuccessful and he’s most likely executed. Archelaus keeps on making his case to Caesar, and even more Jewish envoys protest against him. Eventually Caesar decides to split the Judean province into four separate kingdoms--he calls them ethnarchies--and he gives only one of them to Archelaus.
Here’s how Josephus writes the conclusion. And now Archelaus took possession of his ethnarchy and used not only the Jews, but the Samaritans also, barbarously; and this out of the resentment for their old quarrels with him.
Hear now the reading from the gospel of Luke. In chapter 19 Jesus is coming from the North to ascend into Jerusalem--the final trip to Jerusalem, where his public ministry comes to a head. He has been raising support and performing miracles throughout the northern reaches of Palestine, and he has the authorities worried. Large crowds are following him, he’s performing miraculous signs, and he keeps on speaking about how the Kingdom of God is now breaking in. He is a legitimate threat to some, a sign of revolutionary hope to others, and a confrontation is brewing. He’s just passed through Jericho (meeting the wee little man Zaccheus), and the story picks up in verse 18.
As the crowd heard these things he proceeded to tell them a parable, because he was near to Jerusalem, and the crowd supposed that the Kingdom of God was about to appear immediately.
He said therefore, “A nobleman went to a faraway country to receive for himself a kingdom and then return. 13 Calling ten of his servants,[a] he gave them ten minas,[b] and said to them, ‘Take care of my business until I come back.’ 14 But his citizens hated him and sent a delegation after him, saying, ‘We do not want this man to reign over us.’ 15 When he returned, having received the kingdom, he ordered these servants to whom he had given the money to be called to him, that he might know what they had gained by doing business. 16 The first came before him, saying, Sir, your mina has made ten minas more.’ 17 And he said to him, ‘Well done, good servant![c] Because you have been faithful in a very little, you shall have authority over ten cities.’ 18 And the second came, saying, Sir, your mina has made five minas.’ 19 And he said to him, ‘And you are to be over five cities.’ 20 Then another came, saying, Sir, here is your mina, which I kept laid away in a handkerchief; 21 for I was afraid of you, because you are a severe man. You take what you did not deposit, and reap what you did not sow.’ 22 He said to him, ‘I will condemn you with your own words, you wicked servant! You knew that I was a severe man, taking what I did not deposit and reaping what I did not sow? 23 Why then did you not put my money in the bank, and at my coming I might have collected it with interest?’ 24 And he said to those who stood by, ‘Take the mina from him, and give it to the one who has the ten minas.’ 25 And they said to him, ‘Lord, he has ten minas!’ 26 ‘I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. But as for those enemies of mine who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here and slaughter them in front of me.
I always heard this passage--or the parallel passage in Matthew, which the currency is denominated in “talents” instead of “minas,” and doesn’t include that last line about the king ordering his enemies slaughtered in front of him--as a story about how you should be responsible with your “gifts.” The first two servants are the good guys, the third servant is bad because he’s lazy, and the king stands in for God. The passage (in the flannelgraph telling) is about responsibility and the protestant work ethic. It’s about signing up help with the snow shoveling, or how you should join Adult Choir. To be clear, I do think we should all be responsible, and I do think that all of you should join Adult Choir. But that isn’t what this passage is about. This passage is about Archelaus. Jesus isn’t giving a flannelgraph lesson, he’s telling them a news story--importantly, a news story that they all would have already known. So why?
The key is the crowd--the crowd that is boiling over with the expectation that the Kingdom of God is about to appear imminently. In telling the story of Archelaus Jesus is making a nuanced critique of that expectation and subverting it. He’s not saying “the moral of the story is to behave like the servant with the ten minas.” He’s saying what he says in Matthew 11--from the days of John the Baptist until now the Kingdom of God has suffered violence, and violent people have tried to take it by force.
Do you remember Athronegus, the shepherd leader of the revolt from Josephus’ story? That’s what the crowd is expecting. They are expecting that this charismatic leader who clearly has divine favor, who proclaims freedom for prisoners, and who critiques the corrupt Jewish rulers and priests is going to come down to Jerusalem and cleanse the temple and drive the Romans out with their pagan symbols and their pagan taxes. They’re expecting a call to arms. And Jesus has done bits of that--he HAS declared a jubilee, he’s announced that the kingdom is “within your grasp,” and he does critique corrupt politicians. You can understand why the crowd is worked up.
But just as they get to the point of reaching for their swords as they boil over with the expectation that Jesus is going to inaugurate the Kingdom of God RIGHT NOW, he opens his mouth to tell them a story. They’re probably expecting him to tell them a story like the story of The Maccabees--about Jewish revolutionaries taking up arms and driving out the pagans by force in the name of purity, Torah, and homeland.
But Jesus doesn’t do that. He reminds them that those who sought to work behind Archelaus’ back were put to a violent death, the inevitable result of fighting against pagan power on a pagan power’s terms. He reminds the people of Israel--the people who chosen to be a light to the world, to be a blessing to the Gentiles, to be the holy people among whom the Creator God made his home--that there are ruinous consequences for those who shirk the office that they are entrusted.
What Jesus did is astounding. He confronted those who thought they could lay claim to being the divine people, the chosen ones, and who were prepared to enforce that claim by violence and political machinations. He upended them by telling a story, a nuanced story about the consequences of trying to gain a kingdom of by intrigue and force. Since the days of John the Baptist violent men have been trying to lay hold of the Kingdom of God. Jesus warning about a judgment coming upon this crowd, not a Kingdom.
It’s depressingly easy to start naming instances in our modern world where some group would claim to speak for God. “We are the chosen people, and because we are being faithful we can justify our violence or our political power plays.” Now, as then, the answer to those who would lay hold of the Kingdom of God by violence is not to answer with a louder or more violent claim that “no, we are the divine people. We can’t let the kingdom fall into their hands.”
Instead, let us tell stories. When our culture implies that only the rich and important are worth paying attention to, let us gather into a community that above all else looks to the care of the poor, the elderly, and the children. Let us sing our songs, on music Sunday, not only of ourselves and our own loves and pains, but let us sing God’s glory and goodness--a reflection of our God into his good creation and a summing of that creation’s praises as an offering back to him. May the story of our community be of corporate self-criticism and confession.
And let us, in that corporate life, be ready to be surprised by God’s word when it turns out that what we thought was a straighforward stewardship parable turns out to be a nuanced political critique that upends our understanding of our vocation. When others would lay hold of the kingdom of God by violence, let us sing its songs and tell its stories.
