The so-called “parable of the dishonest manager” is one of the most confusing and confronting of Jesus’ parables. Maybe we get it in the lectionary cycle every three years to be sure we
have a chance to wrestle with it together. Regardless, it confronts us today,
and we may take comfort that it is being read and struggled within
congregations across the world today. That’s right. If we can’t be united in our joy, we can at least be united in our discomfort!
You may think that odd, but I think it’s somewhat poetic. One thing I do know is that this is a passage that
illustrates our expectation that a literal reading of scripture without
context can lead us down some weird paths, so let’s start there. In terms of its Biblical context, this story directly
follows the parable of the Prodigal Son which ended with the elder son’s lament and indecision over whether or not to join the celebration
over his brother’s return.
That was the climax of a series of parables about lost things that Jesus shared after an uncomfortable dinner party where he
lambasted his host for assuming places of honor. This whole section was about
being sought after and honored by God in a way that breaks down the barriers
between us. Over and over Jesus challenged the notion of
earned privileges and status. That’s why the Pharisees thought they were condemning Jesus by saying that he eats with sinners, yet Jesus seemed to respond with, “Yes, I do, and you should realize that includes you!”
Culturally, the story includes a wealthy man and a manager.
Most likely that would mean a landlord, an overseer, and laborers in a sort of
informal feudal system. In that scenario, the manager was a middleman who wasn’t getting the results the landlord believed he should be getting. It
should also be noted that – when the text speaks of the value of things – there was no actual money. The manager was
probably used to taking a cut for his income, and some commentaries suggest the
thing he did was to sacrifice his own income to create a kind of personal
indebtedness from others toward him.
As to the text itself, there are a couple of translation issues that I
think are important. One is the word commend in v.8. According to www.scripture4all.com, this word could also be translated as “applauded.” The
other, as noted by the Rev. Mark Davis, is in the same verse and it is to change “dishonest
manager” to “manager of injustice.” Together, those changes show a wealthy boss
giving a well-deserved “clap back” for the manager who played the system against itself.
Now that we’ve gotten all of that out
of the way, I want you to listen to the reading of the text and think about this
question, “If Jesus were the one telling this story, what would you ask him
about it?” [This was followed by the reading of Luke 16:1-13.]
So, If Jesus were the one telling this
story, what would you ask him about it? [Questions included some of the
following: Was he justly accused? Why was the wealthy man OK with the manager’s
choices? What is Jesus even saying here? It’s OK to cheat someone for a good
cause? What does it mean to make friends by dishonest wealth?]
These are all good questions.
Unfortunately, Jesus isn’t here, so you’re stuck with me. I obviously do not
know exactly what Jesus meant, and it makes me wonder what it was like for
Luke, or for his scribe, to write this one down years after the original
telling of it. Let’s just recap the highlights really quick.
There was a wealthy guy who hired
someone to manage some of his property. The manager was not getting the job
done and was called to settle his accounts. That guy, the manager, goes to
everyone that owes the wealthy person and does them some favors by cutting their
bills. When the wealthy person realizes what has been done, he praises the
manager for his ingenuity. Jesus uses all that as a way to say, “Be faithful
even with dishonest wealth. Remember who you serve. The key to true devotion is
found in your relationship with God, with the accumulation of wealth, and with
your connectedness to others.
Now, that might sound like I’m reading
a little bit into it, and I probably am. That’s because I’m thinking about it
in relation to our readings from Jeremiah and 1 Timothy. Jeremiah spoke in
times of great distress as the people of Israel were carried off to Babylon. He’s
been giving warnings to everyone – people on the street, other prophets, kings –
and no one is listening. He has nothing left to do but weep. Maybe he could
make another choice. Maybe he could just say, “I told you so, Dummies!”, but
unfortunately for him, he cannot.
He is a prophet, and he speaks the truth.
The truth in that time and place is the same we feel when things have gotten
about as bad as they can get, and the only thing left to do is lament over what
has been lost. We’ve all been there. It’s part of being human. We live. We
love. We lose. Rinse. Wash. Repeat.
That doesn’t mean that we are without
hope. It means that part of being human is connecting with others in ways that
are both fleeting and eternal at the same time. Part of being human is
realizing that another person’s suffering not only can but does matter to me
even if I try and act like it doesn’t. That’s why Paul tells Timothy to pray for
everyone. It’s like that children’s song, “Everybody ought to know…who Jesus is…”
Paul even tells Timothy to pray for
kings and all who are in high places, the ones with the greatest influence on
the largest number of people, so that we all might live in peace. Now, there
are some important distinctions we have to make about this passage. To begin
with, telling them to pray for kings was essentially the same as Jesus telling us to pray for our enemies because the kings
were the ones who were persecuting the church. The idea that whatever a king says and does is of
divine authority came about much later. It
is not what Paul had in mind. This was more of a “please God, break their
hearts of stone so that they will stop being jerks!” kind of prayer.
Not only that, but we have to be aware
that what Paul meant by everyone may not be what we want it to be. Anyone who
reads a little further will see that this is the same hand that writes about
women being subject to the authority of men and slaves needing to embrace the
yoke of slavery. So we must read this and remember the context of the
liberating gospel of Christ and the way that Paul begs Timothy to pray for
everyone – even those in power that abuse their power.
Regardless of what you believe about
prayer, there is something significant that happens in prayer. I don’t always
think about it this way, but prayer really does connect us. One of the most
powerful experiences I’ve ever had with this was in Cuba when Nell led us into
a conversation that took us into a back alley and then to a back yard shed
where a little Pentecostal church was having a Bible study. We had some
wonderful conversations about our partner church and why we were there, and
then I asked Nell to translate for me and also for their Pastor as we prayed
for each other’s congregations. It was truly amazing.
In that moment a Spanish speaking
Cuban Pentecostal minister prayed to God through the mouth of an unsuspecting
humanist for a Presbyterian minister from the USA! It wasn’t magical. The
heavens didn’t open. What happened, though, was that each of us was united
before God for the purpose of honoring and caring for each other. That’s the
truth that Paul was pointing towards! The bigger reality that we are all a part
of and rarely see is the space we enter into in prayer.
I’ll give you another example. At the
age of 18 I went to the Montreat Youth Conference for the fourth year in a row.
The last night ended as it always did. After a moving worship service in which
we shared communion, we all wandered out and crowded around Lake Susan. Candles
were lit. Songs were sung. Prayers were given. Something was different this
time, though. Maybe it was because I was had just graduated high school. Maybe
it was just the first time I’d really been able to look outside of myself, but
I suddenly realized that attached to each and every one of those 1500 candles
around that lake was a soul as beloved by God as I was. Somehow that gave me
the sense that we weren’t just separate little candles pushing away the dark.
We were one. We were all a part of something greater, something holy, something
true.
That's
how it is with God's love, once you've experienced it. You want to sing. It’s
fresh like spring. You want to pass it on.
The
love of God is what gives us the ability to endure. It is what calls us to care
for others. It is all that is true and real and lasting. Everything else is
fleeting. I think that might be what Jesus had in mind when he said, “Make
friends with dishonest wealth.” It’s not that he wants us to steal or that the
ends justify the means. It’s simply a fact that we can’t take any of this stuff
with us.
Like
the older brother in the parable before, we must realize that stuff is stuff
and we are either faithful with it or we are not. Jesus confronts us with this
dichotomy and commands us to be trustworthy – to act in ways that show we can
be trusted – with what we’ve been given. We must choose, sometimes multiple
times a day, whether we are serving God or serving ourselves by accumulating
wealth.
He’s
not saying that money is bad. He’s saying that we have to recognize that we
have a tendency to assign value based on what we – or others – can accumulate.
Then we tend to circle the wagons around ourselves and those we love. Yet, the
business of discipleship is not about self-preservation. If anything it is
about risk, and it starts by recognizing the needs of others. It starts with our
recognition that we are connected even in lament and sadness. We are connected
through prayer and through the sharing of our resources in ways that
demonstrate that the center of our value system is nothing less than the one in
whom we live and move and have our being.
That
one is also the one who came to us in the humble form of a babe, challenged
every power structure he could, and demonstrated what it meant to live and love
sacrificially so that we can, too. That same one, this Jesus who is the Christ,
assures us that God knows that we have bills to pay, yet God expects us to care
for one another more than we care for things. In that sense, all that we place
value on is dishonest, because none of it will last. True value is only
understood in light of God’s reconciling love.
If we
can let that love direct our priorities, then we will find that we truly are
serving God alone. Then, and only then, we will find that we have been invited
by others into eternal homes – just like the back yard shed we found in Cuba!
For
now, here in this place, know that we certainly have the opportunity to find a
place in the eternal homes of one another’s heart, and in that way, we may serve the Lord. In that way, we may be
about the business of widening the circle so that all may know the amazing love
of God. Amen.
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