Some thoughts on Luke 19
Jesus had set out resolutely from Galilee ten chapters ago, and Luke 19 chronicles His nearing to and entry into Jerusalem. He knew what awaited him there: torture, tears, anguish, crucifixion and death. I imagine Jesus’ journey now to have become one of perseverance and disciplined obedience.
Conversely the disciples would have looked to Jerusalem with eager anticipation. The Jews were, after all, perpetually in need of a saviour and Jesus, the Messiah, was about to enter the holy city. As we look over the history of Old Testament Israel we see how God raised up leaders, kings and warriors to release the people from bondage, slavery and exile brought about by rebellion and idolatry. Israel would return to God, cry out to Him and He would restore them, but all too quickly the cycle would start again. To the disciples, the arrival of Jesus in the holy city meant the end of the Roman occupation and the restoration of Israel – the Kingdom was about to appear.
The journey nears its end. I imagine Jesus’ heavy heart to be in sharp contrast with His disciples’ excitement, and so Jesus tells this triadic parable of the Ten Minas in order to address their misunderstanding. Jesus is the nobleman who must go away to be appointed king by a higher authority, and then return to receive his kingdom. Jesus is saying that the Kingdom is going to be delayed, and for a time it won’t even look as though he is King, but one day He will return to rule and will reward His servants appropriately.
The disciples wanted God to send someone to rid them of the Roman occupation and restore Israel to its former glory, but throughout their history God was demonstrating that intervening in their external circumstances simply wasn’t enough – it wouldn’t save them from themselves. In sending Jesus to die for the whole world God had done something unexpected, something that would change their interior and deal with the root of the problem. God’s intervention didn’t look as the disciples wanted it to look, but the end result would be greater than they could ask or imagine.
Just as the disciples did, we too can hold to a fixed idea of how God is going to intervene. When we ask God to step in do we blindly assume that it is something external to us that needs to change? Could it be that God is looking to intervene by bringing change within what is so often the root of the problem – us? Naturally, such intervention is not at all comfortable, it is unexpected and not how we wanted it to look, but be encouraged that at these times the result will be greater than we can ask or imagine.
Another thing that strikes me about this parable is that Jesus cast himself as the anti-hero: the nobleman was a hard man (austeros, from which we get austere). On hearing the parable the hearers would immediately have thought of Archelaus, son of Herod. After his father’s death, Archelaeus and his brothers (Antipas and Philip) squabbled much over who had inherited which land and who would be the regional King, and so each took it in turn to travel to Rome to seek an audience with Emperor Ceasar Augustus to establish their authority. Archelaus had been given Judea, Samaria, Edom and the title of King by his father and went to Rome with a delegation of Jews to support his case but instead they testified against Archelaus. Caesar gave him authority over just Judea and a time of probation to prove his was worthy of the title King and inheriting the rest of the lands promised to him. Furious, Archelaus returned to his land proved what kind of king he would be by slaughtering 3000 Jews for their opposition. Archelaus was deposed later for misgovernment. It is doubtless that this is the historical event Jesus bases the parable of the Ten Minas on. By casting himself as Archelaus Jesus creates a helpful contrast: if the hard, austere king would give such great rewards for faithful service, then how much more should we want to serve a generous God who is eager to reward lavishly?

