Exegesis: Luke 21
The Obvious
The gates of hell are open, and the world as we know it is under attack. From the natural world (earthquakes; famines and plagues; signs in the sun, moon, and stars; the roaring of the sea and the waves) to tottering institutions (not one stone will be left upon another; wars and insurrections, nation will rise against nation) to social chaos (they will arrest you; you will be betrayed even by parents and relatives and friends; you will be hated by all; flee to the mountains; people will fall by the edge of the sword and taken away as captives; Jerusalem will be trampled by other nations) to counterfeit saviors and prophets (many will come in my name saying ‘I am he’ and ‘the time is near’) to emotional breakdowns (men will faint with fear and foreboding; hearts…weighed down)—life as we know it is coming undone.
The Less Obvious
- The straw that breaks the camel’s back and sends everything tumbling toward dystopia is an episode of systemic injustice: a destitute widow gives her last coins to a corrupt corporate giant—the Jerusalem temple. The scene depicts the total opposite of what God wants. Biblical teaching is clear: that the religious community should giveto widows, not take from them. (Deuteronomy 24: 19-21) The same concern extends to orphans, immigrants, the sick, and the imprisoned: the nations are to provide them with food, water, clothing, hospitality, and physical care. (Matthew 25) But in Luke 21—the widow loses it all. And to the super-rich temple—of all institutions! This causes Jesus to pronounce judgment on the temple—not one stone will be left upon another.
- There are cracks in this dystopian picture, however. Jesus tells his listeners to be skeptical of negative reports from afar. He steers them away from con artists. He mentions a weapon they will be given to battle dystopia: a “testimony”—an opportunity to tell their stories in such a way that they will have impact and influence. Furthermore, he promises his followers that “not a hair” on their head will perish, and that by their endurance they will gain their souls. There will be safe places to flee and hide. And the ultimate hope and glory: a Son of Man will come upon a cloud—a sure sign that redemption is drawing near.
- Jesus never really mentions who’s who in all these metaphors—other than the widow at the start of the chapter. It is clear that God is unhappy, and consequently has decided to upset the status quo and all its ingrained institutions. On the other hand, God has also arranged a rescue plan. Luke 21, however, does not name names. We are not told precisely who will be punished—or exactly who will be redeemed.
(Note: Many of Jesus’ followers, throughout history, will take great pleasure in claiming to be among the redeemed—while naming specifically which of their enemies are on the side of false messiahs.)
- There are two interludes in the text.
- An allegory about figs and other trees sprouting leaves—as a sign that summer is near and the fruit is about to appear. This is one of those “cracks in the dystopian picture” of this chapter.
- A warning about people’s hearts being weighed down during hard times. While Jesus seems to be paint everything else in chapter 21 in vague, impressionistic strokes, he gets very specific and pastoral in verse 34. We can see the hand of a literary master in this. As one’s outer and inner world collapses into a hodgepodge of chaos, the only clear statement Jesus makes is in regard to the goings-on in one’s own heart. The troubles of this world always soil one’s heart, leaving deposits of grievance, escapism, and anxiety behind—things that throw us off—making it hard to discover the cracks in the dystopia, difficult to discern wisdom from foolishness, impossible to participate in the day of redemption, tough to remain intellectually honest with ourselves.
Greek Translations
Jesus specifically mentions three things that weigh down the human heart. Most English translations are unhelpful.
- krai-pa’ tzae is best translated as “grievances.” When life is rough and unfair, when one feels wronged, when losses pile up—it is natural for unhealed grief to mutate into grievance. Blaming, stereotypes, and tribalism easily follow. Grievances become magnets for every rumor out there, every perceived slight and prejudice.
- me’ thae is often translated “drunkenness.” As a metaphor, drunkenness points to all forms of escapism: alcohol, pills, drugs, pornography, addiction to social media, eating, over consumption of sports, addiction to another person, materialism…. Everyone has their preferred ways of “checking out.”
- mer’ im naes is usually translated as “anxiety” or “worry.” In Greek, it is a compound word signifying a “split mind.” Such a compartmentalization happens when the neural pathways of fear inside our brains begin to block off other neural pathways—of common sense, empathy, curiosity, memory, and perception.
The heart, in New Testament writings, is the seat of all our emotions, values, and schemes. The heart can be tender or hard. It can cause good or evil. It can make us heroic—or weigh us down.
Literary Craft
Any interpretation of Luke 21 begins at a fork in the road: should the text be read literally or literarily? If read literally, we reasonably assume that this is a journalistically accurate description of what is about to happen. We will only wonder (like the disciples) when it is to take place. We will put it on the calendar—as soon as Jesus sends us a “Save the Date” notice. If we decide to read this text literally, we can also start two lists: the good guys (us) and the bad guys.
But there are signs in the text itself warding us away from reading it literally. For example, Jesus avoids saying “when” the temple will be destroyed. Furthermore, he specifically warns against trusting anyone who seems to have the “when” figured out. As to the time, Jesus only notes that “the time is near.” Since the whole scene takes place sometime around A.D. 30 (give or take a few years) that would mean Jesus probably didn’t mean A.D. 2024. A literalist with any common sense will conclude that all the stuff in Luke 21 already took place—a long time ago! But if the story Jesus tells is a literary construction—then it probably has meaning for our generation as well.
Knowledgeable readers will notice that the style of Luke 21 is that of Apocalyptic Literature. In other words, this particular message of Jesus quotes widely from the poetry and metaphors of many Old Testament books. In the case of Luke 21, we can find allusions to verse fragments from Isaiah, Joel, Daniel, Ezekiel, Deuteronomy, Leviticus, Psalms, Proverbs, Hosea, Samuel, Ecclesiasticus, Genesis, and Malachi.
Apocalyptic Literature also uses the technique of a “mirror” in which a heavenly scenario reflects what is happening on earth. For example, as nations teeter, so do stars. Apocalyptic literature draws stark contrasts between good and evil, while also recognizing that such dualism is not exactly how good and evil show up in real life.
Apocalyptic literature deconstructs everything that is familiar to us. In other words, it dismantles our categories of time and space to help us see truths normally hidden from our awareness. Such hidden truths include evil that is hiding in what we consider to be good—and visa versa. The deconstructing also applies to time. When our constructs of time are taken apart, we see that both evil and good are present in all eras, not just back then—or only in our own time.
A sign that Jesus has deconstructed time in this story comes in vv. 32 and 35. In v. 35: “I tell you…this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place.” But in vs. 35: “it will come upon all who live upon the face of the whole earth.” In other words, the scenarios, troubles, promises, and cracks in dystopia are always with us, across the eons. Jesus’ message of good and evil—and the wisdom to navigate through them—is valid eternally—for the world then and now. Everything in Luke 21 would be true—all the time.
If we decide to approach this text in a literary manner, rather than a literal manner, then we can take every line of it seriously, let loose our curiosity, play with different possibilities—and reject any suggestion that contradicts Jesus’ clear and fundamental message of love. We can see from the text that every generation has more evil to navigate than any of us can handle alone. But likewise—every generation has more access to joy, salvation, and justice than we can possible imagine—without the aid of the stories and songs of our faith.
Conclusion
If one takes the literary approach in wrestling with this text, rather than the literal, one will have access to Greek vocabulary, allusions to familiar texts from the Old Testament, the craft and savvy of Apocalyptic Literature, hazy impressionistic-like collages of reality, crystal clear instructions about what to clean up in one’s own heart, and an invitation to explore more creatively what the “coming of the Son of Man on a cloud” means for our own times.
When read in the spirit of Jesus, the text invites us to find one another in the chaos of our times—not getting tricked into the ways our culture normally divides and classifies us. It makes clear that our “weapon” for the dangers we are in is the “story” we have to tell—our witness. As stories are shared in adversarial moments—the seeds of God’s new and better world are planted and take root. While seemingly bleak and hopeless—the text actually provides a map for our escape. It is a map of a new exodus—toward a world renewed in the spirit and mind of a great and good God.
Repertoire 