A friend of mine suggested the other day that Luke’s gospel doesn’t really show us ‘Jesus at his best.’  That caught me by surprise, because Luke has all the things we need in a ‘gospel’, right? Shepherds and angels – the ‘parables of the lost’ (lost sheep, lost coin, lost brother). Luke, unlike Mark, actually gives us some time with the Risen Jesus. So I was confused…until I sat down with the opening verses of chapter 17 and began to prepare for this morning.

Jesus is telling his disciples about living into this kingdom he is proclaiming. And there is nothing like perfection on the horizon – that’s the first surprise. “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come.” So much for the perfect future some imagine to be the goal. Jesus is reminding his friends that they need to work at being on the right side of relationships. Right relationships are the foundation of this kingdom, and Jesus tells them that if they are causing problems for others – causing them to stumble – they’d be better off dead.

Seem a little harsh? This is ‘harsh truth Jesus,’ and we would always rather he be speaking those harsh truths to our enemies. But it turns out, the enemy is often us. Our pride. Our stubborn insistence on being right. Our arrogant certainty.

The warning against causing ‘one of these little ones’ to stumble is a warning against dismissing or harming ‘the least of these.’ Jesus isn’t talking about leading children astray. He is inviting care for the vulnerable – the lonely – the oppressed. The word translated here describes either a small group (a minority) or someone/something that is insignificant. This is not about assuring your place in heaven. This is about making life better for everyone. Present tense. And well-tended relationships are the key.

The church speaks passionately about cultivating a relationship with Jesus – and thus a right-relationship with God. Jesus talks passionately about something else.

Stumbling is a given. Some bibles translate this as sin just in case we miss the connection, but whatever we call it, when it happens it is our responsibility to respond in the right way.

Some would have us believe that, as Christians, it is our duty to forgive…no matter what. But let’s consider what we heard when the passage was read.

If someone sins against you, rebuke them. That is the first step on a journey to better relationship. Get the problem out in the open. Talk about the effect of the behaviour. Grieve the loss of trust. Acknowledge the pain of loss.

Then, if the person repents, you must forgive. There is a direct connection here. If there is a ‘change of heart’ there MUST be forgiveness. There is no requirement to repent, but repentance triggers forgiveness, every time. As many times as it takes. As often as there is a ‘turning around.’

This is the second step, and it is by far the hardest.

And that’s it. There are only two steps, really – to be endlessly repeated. A lifetime of short, often frustrating journeys. So, it’s no surprise that the disciples imagine they will need help with this. “Increase our faith!” They cry, since this is clearly a job only for saints or martyrs.

And Jesus mocks their request. He suggests that it should take hardly any measurable faith at all to do this impossible thing (get a tree to jump into the ocean.) Not the kind of encouragement we expect from God’s anointed.

Repentance and forgiveness are widely assumed to be the primary work of the faithful. Every week we offer our confession in prayer, and we promise to do better when the next challenge faces us. The church, for centuries, has catalogued sins so we might be better able to tell when we were ‘faithful’ and how best to repent our ‘faithlessness.’ How dare you, Jesus – to suggest that it may not depend on faith at all – that it might be about something else.

The ‘faith’ that we profess has become disconnected from our daily behaviour. This is more and more apparent in the world. Folks can (and will) do all manner of horrible things in the name of God – under the cover of Christian ‘values.’ The point is made by Jesus in the rest of the opening verses of Luke 17 (read – 7-10)

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

Our behaviour is the key: to belief – and to vocation – and to societal expectation. That Jesus uses the role of the household slave to make his point usually puts us off, but the point is that we ‘worthless slaves’ need to do what we ought to do:

To ‘faithfully’ listen to one another. To ‘faithfully’ correct one another. To tune our ears for real repentance and open our hearts to real forgiveness. If those things guide our life in the service of God – if these are the ‘requirements of our servitude’ – we might expect results, even when the challenge ahead seems impossible.

The hardest hearts can be reshaped by love. The broken hearts can be mended. Relationships can be nurtured and strengthened by acts of humility and grace, and the kingdom of God will be revealed in all of this.

Does that sound impossible? Does it sound like an act of incredible faith? Not so, my friends. For Jesus suggests that even our puny faith would be enough, so long as we can find the courage to love one another.

To love one another enough to keep each other from stumbling. To help someone who has stumbled to find their feet again. To accept (and offer) genuine apologies and to offer (and accept) second chances. This is the formula that brings the kingdom to earth and that is good news for us, and for all.