What a strange, difficult parable we find in the Gospel of Luke this morning. To begin with, it’s about money, which is so often one of those things we ought not talk about in polite company. To make things worse, though, Jesus appears to be commending the manager’s actions in this story, and leaves us with the cryptic instructions to “make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth.”
The story begins with the introduction of two characters - a rich man, and his manager. Now, it’s helpful to note that the economic structures in place at this time functioned much like a feudal economy. There were a few wealthy people, who owned large tracts of land, and many, many more poor people, who worked the land as tenant farmers, paying a percentage of their earnings to the rich landowner. In addition to those two groups were people like the manager, who acted as the go-between. The manager was there to keep an eye on things - making sure the tenants paid up when they were supposed to, and, yes, lining his pockets a bit along the way - that dishonest wealth Jesus mentions.
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| Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash |
So, the rich man hears that the manager is squandering his property - wasting it - perhaps by taking his cut from the rich man’s profits rather than by charging more from the tenants - exploiting the wrong person in that equation, I suppose. Whatever the circumstances, the rich man is unhappy and calls the manager in for an exit interview before he is fired.
The manager finds himself in a tight spot. What will he do without a job? He isn’t strong enough for manual labor, and he’s too proud to make a living by begging. He hasn’t made many friends in his dishonest dealings, and he’s not likely to be seen as trustworthy by any future employers with this on his record. Faced with all this, he hatches a plan.
The manager meets with the people who are in debt to the rich man, and instead of collecting for the rich man one last time, he cuts their bills - by twenty and even fifty percent! I suppose he figures that if he’s going to be fired anyway, he may as well use it to his advantage, and create a safety net for himself by building up social capital for when his financial capital is taken away.
Surprisingly, the rich man commends him for these actions, impressed by his shrewdness. And even more surprising? Jesus, too, seems to laud the manager’s choices. But why?
I think that Jesus’s words about shrewdness and dishonest wealth acknowledge the reality that we live within a system that so often values money above all else. Now, one approach as people of faith could be to separate ourselves from the world, so as not to be tainted by our associations with these unjust, exploitative systems.
Another approach, though, and the one Jesus seems to be commending, is to work within and around the systems we inhabit, and use them for our own ends. To see the limits of wealth, and the value of things that don’t have a price tag - things like community, and relationship, and connection. Things like grace. And while the manager's plan was self-serving, the poor tenants must have been shocked and overjoyed to have their debts reduced. We can imagine the sense of freedom and possibility they felt as they walked away from those meetings with the manager.
As my colleague the Rev. Lauren Jenkins writes, “I don’t think God much cares how we get to grace—we all come by dishonest and broken means and ways. We all come through moments of selfishness, greed, self-dealing… and hopefully, finally, realize that these ways will not set us free.
They will not make us truly wealthy.
They will not secure for us a community of care.
They will not keep us warm at night.
It is not until we’re able to let go of the lure of wealth, ladder-climbing, stepping on one another on our way to the top that we can be agents of the grace God is already giving out for free.”
It’s true, what Jesus says - we cannot serve both God and wealth. We cannot dedicate our allegiance to God while playing the game the way the world intends it to be played.
We can, however, use wealth and all that’s been entrusted to us in a way that aims for the world God intends. The one where everyone has enough, and people are valued for who they are, rather than what they can produce. The one where mutual care, and not competition, is what defines us. Toward that end, money is not the final goal, but rather a tool, and our shrewd dealings with it are what allow us to prioritize the things that are really important - things like relationships, and compassion, and generosity.
So how might we act faithfully within and around the systems and circumstances in which we find ourselves? How might we use our money and the things entrusted to our care in ways that bring us even a little closer to justice; a little bit closer to the kingdom that God promises?
There are plenty of tangible ways. Maybe we spend a little more to purchase goods that were made fairly, by workers who benefit from safe working conditions and a living wage. Or perhaps we break away from the social norms that demand constant upgrades to the biggest, newest, and fanciest models of the things we own. I’m sure you can think of other big and small examples from your own lives.
Whatever we do or don’t do, though, the good news is that it always, always comes back to grace. Grace doesn’t play by the rules, but instead surprises us - not with what we deserve, but with the abundance of God’s goodness and love. By this grace, we are set free for the things that really matter - things like community, connection, and love. And as we benefit from the “dishonest wealth” of God’s abundant grace, we can’t help but see the love of God flow through us and out into the world.
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