Thank you???

"Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'? ⁸ Would you not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? ⁹ Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? ¹⁰ So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'" Luke 17:7-10

It’s a thankless job, being a mother…Get up early, get the kids ready and off to school, a quick shower and then out the door to face the day. Nine hours at the office, all day long being told to do this and told to do that. Make some coffee, make some copies, get the mail, deliver the proposal, answer the phone, order supplies. Lunch was from the vending machine. Was it a nice day today? No way to know. It’s already dark, fighting the traffic back home. Walk in the door and before she even sets her purse down, the kids begin to ask, “What’s for supper?” Forty five minutes later the dinner is prepared and consumed, and it’s time to go to scouts and to piano lessons, and “Oh, yeah, mom, I forgot to tell you, I need some poster board for a school project tomorrow and two dozen brownies – in baggies for the bake sale.” Is the homework all done? “Come on, children; brush your teeth; get ready for bed; you say you want a story?”

Oh, for a minute to herself. Just a chance to put her feet up, maybe take a bubble bath, read a magazine – nothing heavy, nothing too deep. Too tired to think or even move, she collapses in a chair and thinks, “Sure would be nice if somebody would’ve at least said thanks.”

It’s a thankless job on the line. Nineteen years on the job. Smoke and dust in the air, a little space, a lot of noise, too hot, always the same – boredom and monotony day in, day out, day in, day out.

“What’s that? The boss wants to talk to me? Right away, boss. What’s up?”

“Laid off? How can that be? I’m never sick, never late. Always accept overtime when asked. I’ve been here nearly twenty years. One more month and I’ll have enough points in to retire. But you say I’ve been laid off. How can that be?”

It’s a thankless job, going to school. When she got home from school, she called her mom to tell her about her grades. Four A’s, two B’s, and a C. It really is a report card to be proud of! Afterward, she calls her best friend. “Can you believe it?!? All mom cared about was the C! And one of those A’s used to be a B! I guess that’ll teach me to get good grades!”

Thankless jobs. We all know them. Maybe some of us have had them. We work hard and we expect something in return. We see those who don’t work hard, and they seem to get the same as the rest of us.

But I guess that is how it’s always been. Even in Jesus’ day, there were thankless jobs. In our text, Jesus begins by asking the disciples a series of questions. The first he asks is about common household practices: “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’?”

A simple enough question. We know the answer to this one- “Well, nobody, of course,” we answer with the disciples.

Jesus asks, “Would you not rather say to him, “Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink.” It’s not in the scripture, but I’m sure the disciples are nodding their heads up and down, murmuring, “Of course, that is exactly what we would do.” That was really just restating and reasserting the first question, right?

“Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded?”

We’re on a roll, now! “Of course not!”

***

I once had a boss, one of the smartest men I’ve ever known, and he had a habit of asking questions of his employees. Often, he already knew the answer, and it was like going through oral exams every time he stopped to talk to you or called you into his office. It really made one doubt his or her own expertise. George would ask a question, and the brain would go into panic – “Does he want to know what I think or is he testing me to see if I really know this small aspect of my job?”

Asking questions has long been an established instructional method. It’s the method popularized by Socrates. Luke, the writer of this text was no doubt aware of the method. Jesus probably was, too. Or maybe Jesus was playing a game with the disciples – getting them in the habit of agreeing so that he could turn them around. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time!

Quite a fisherman, that Jesus! Just throw out a little bait – you know, get them to agree with you, …jiggle the hook a little, - oh, yeah, they’re starting to come along.…feel the nibble – almost there… and set the hook – “Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded?”… and reel ‘em on in.

But we’re on to Jesus’ game! We have the luxury of time and distance and the whole story to help us respond. The disciples cry out, “Of course not!” and we see it coming. We now know slavery to be a bad thing, and we want them to know it , too. We know how tricky Jesus can be at times, and we don’t want the disciples getting caught. They’re really just like us. We want to call back to them across time and space that of course you do thank people who serve you. Since we first learned to talk, we’ve been taught to say thank you. I imagine even now if I were to observe someone handing something to another person and I would ask, “What do you say?” the automatic response of the receiver would be, “Thank you.” Those scripts of our mothers’ teachings are just way too ingrained in us.

Not only that, when we go to a performance in an eating or drinking establishment, the announcer always reminds us, “Be sure to tip your waiters and waitresses.” In other words, “Remember to say thank you.”

And haven’t we all had those thankless jobs; those jobs where we did all the work and someone else got all the credit? We know how important it is to hear, “Thank you.”

But then, Jesus hits us with “Well then you don’t get it either!”

Now, wait just a minute, Jesus, are you talking to us or to the disciples?

Jesus didn’t actually say, “Well then you don’t get it either!”, at least not in the NRSV. That’s my paraphrase of what Jesus said. What this translation says is that Jesus said to them: “So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’” The disciples had been looking for glory for themselves, and Jesus made it clear they weren’t going to get it.

And then, we remember the older brother a few chapters back who used similar words in speaking to his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.” But we never really liked him. Sure, at times, we sort of identify with him, but he didn’t get it, and we do so want to be among those who understand. So we go the other way. We think, “Oh, poor baby.” While he was standing on the porch feeling sorry for himself, looking for the thanks he thought he deserved, the rest of the family was already inside the house partying it up. He seemed to forget that everything his father had was also his.

Jesus has done a really good job of dragging the disciples along to make his point, but let’s look at it another way. What if Jesus really had intended that last question, “Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded?” to be answered, “Yes”?

It’s the ‘what-if’s that really mess with our minds when we look at the things that Jesus taught. There are so many ways we can dissect this and rearrange it.

We’re told to be kind to others. Isn’t it appropriate to thank people who help us out? Isn’t that part of being kind? Isn’t that what Jesus would do?

Maybe Jesus is the master in this text. When we do the work that is commanded to us on behalf Jesus, the Christ, do we do so expecting to be thanked? Maybe not, but as servants of the kingdom do we expect, or at least hope to be rewarded in the kingdom?

Do we find ourselves asking of Jesus, the master, “Do you thank the slave for doing what is commanded?”, hoping that maybe, just this once, he will?

But what if Jesus is the servant? We know from Philippians 2:5-8 that Jesus Christ, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross. Christ made the ultimate sacrifice of his very life to obey the command of his master, God, but at the same time to serve and save all of humanity. That was certainly a thankless job!

So do we thank the servant or don’t we? It’s hard to know. Jesus closes his discourse by saying, “So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’” The word translated “worthless” means those to whom nothing is owed. Perhaps a better reading would be, “You don’t owe us anything, we have only done what we ought to have done.”

The disciples are directed by Jesus to say that they are not owed anything because they have done only what they were commanded to do. As disciples, are we to infer from this that we should just do that which is commanded without expectation of recognition or reward? Maybe. But does the example of Jesus as servant also suggest that perhaps we should do even more?

As we wind up our stewardship campaign, we look to Christ’s example, ask those same questions, and ponder the implications. What if Jesus really wanted the disciples, and through them, us, to respond differently to all of his questions?

"Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'?” If Jesus is our Lord and we are the servants, does not the master regularly invite us to come to the table and eat alongside him whenever and wherever open communion is served. We are called to be present.

“Would you not rather say to him, “Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink.”

And we are called to respond, “No, Lord. What you have done for us is already too much. Let us honor you with our gifts and our service.”

“Do you thank the servant for doing what was commanded?” Do we honor God for all that has been given to us? Do we adequately acknowledge the gift of Jesus’ life being given in suffering and death for the sake of our salvation? After all, he was just doing what was commanded. Are we truly thankful?

Truth forces our response, “Not nearly enough, Lord, not nearly enough.”

When Jesus asks the questions, we, as Christians are called to respond. Do we do what we’ve always done because it was what was commanded? Or do we do more so that we do not have to respond, “We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’?”

Is it about us? Or is it about God?