SERMON FOR SEPTEMBER 22, 2019 FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST TEXT: LUKE 16:1-13

In The Wisdom of the Desert, a collection of stories about the monks and hermits of the early church, one finds this tale:

Some elders came to Abbot Anthony, and there was with them also Abbot Joseph. Wishing to test them, Abbot Anthony brought the conversation around to the Holy Scriptures. And he began from the youngest to ask them the meaning of this or that text. Each one replied as best he could but Abbot Anthony said to them: “You have not got it yet.” After them all he asked Abbot Joseph: “What about you? What do you say the text means?” Abbot Joseph replied: “I know not!” Then Abbot Anthony said: “Truly Abbot Joseph alone has found the way for he replies that he knows not.”

I wonder if one of the texts Abbot Anthony challenged them with with was today’s Gospel. I sat with a group of Lutheran clergy this past week, our first cluster gathering after the summer recess. We started with Bible study on the appointed texts for today. Nobody had a ready answer as to the point of the parable of the dishonest manager or unjust steward, but as we went around the circle, many offered possible interpretations. When it was my turn, all I could say was, “I honestly don’t know what Jesus is getting at.” It may have marked me as the bean brain of the group at the time, but I think Abbot Anthony would have given me an “Atta girl, Pastor Jane.”

It looks like Luke was struggling too. After recording the parable he offers three different conclusions the reader might draw. No. 1: “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much, and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches?” No. 2: “If you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own?” No. 3: “No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth/mammon.” And preceding these three potential morals of the story we have in verse 8 Jesus’ own last word: “And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” Come again?!?

Interpretations of this text take one of two directions. It is about wealth and the right use of it. Folks in that camp are likely to see “dishonest wealth” as “earthly possession” in contrast to “the true riches” of God’s grace and salvation. So the way you handle your affairs in this life is an indicator of your capacity for responsible discipleship. Or the other possibility in the wealth school of thought is that what you have on earth is on loan; it belongs ultimately to God, and if you want your own proper portion in God’s kingdom, you need to be a faithful steward with the earthly goods entrusted to you. The problem here is that grace is a gift, not a promotion awarded to the shrewd after they pass the audition. This is especially striking when you look at what immediately precedes this passage in Luke’s Gospel, that is, the parable of the prodigal son and his brother. The latter has shown himself to be faithful with what belongs to another; he is the one who stayed home with his father and worked like a slave for him and never disobeyed his command. His younger brother, on the other hand, has been dishonest in much, squandering what his father gave him and then having the audacity to come back to beg for the old man’s charity. Yet the father runs out to meet him and takes him back with nary a critical word, despite his appalling performance as a steward of the family’s wealth. The juxtaposition of these two parables is confounding.

Then there is the third variant of the wealth school of thought. A slave cannot serve two masters; you cannot serve God and mammon. The issue here is not about canny stewardship; it is about commitment. You either fall captive to greed and the love of acquisition, or you are bound by faithfulness and devotion to God. And the proof is in the way you handle your wealth when it comes to your neighbor’s need. One New Testament scholar analyzes the story this way: “Preaching on the vivid parable in Luke 16 means following Jesus into questions of how we practice neighbor love in economic relationships, in the midst of unjust structures. What is important is to situate the parable in the broader economic context of how Jesus was reviving village life by reviving biblical covenantal economic life, forgiving debts and giving people new hope. In Luke, the joy of the Gospel is the joy of God’s healing of relationships, including economic relationships. Jesus repeatedly warns that we cannot be disciples while accumulating wealth at the expense of the poor.” This is a compelling interpretation, yet, as one critic pointedly asks, what evidence is there in the parable to claim the steward was a ‘debt collector’ who used his collection activity to abuse the tenants? What evidence is there that tenants who harvested large quantities of olive oil and wheat were ‘poor peasants’? The steward is described as unjust, but it appears that he is squandering his rich employer’s property, not necessarily cheating those who owed debts to his master.

The other possibility is that the parable is not primarily concerned with money management at all but rather with broader questions of character for those who would be disciples of Jesus. Another story from the lives of the early Christian monks tells of Julian, who was approached by a young nobleman wanting to accompany him on one of his longer sojourns in the desert. Suspecting that the young man pleads “with more zeal than strength” and lacks the endurance required for such an undertaking, Julian tries to discourage him. But the young man insists. Then after three days in the desert he collapses of thirst, obliging Julian to beseech God for a miracle to save the fellow’s life. The monk does so successfully. One could argue that the young man acted shrewdly by securing a spiritually powerful mentor to accompany him before entering the desert. Or you could argue that it was foolish for him to undertake something that might require a miracle on God’s part to keep him safe. “The children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light,” Jesus observes. Can we learn from them? For example, don’t be a fool; don’t let your ardor get the better of your common sense. Be strategic. Calculate the cost and evaluate your options before you make your move. Yet then there is the prodigal father running to meet his son without a second thought, no questions asked. His younger son may well have returned with a carefully rehearsed speech in hand, a savvy child of this age, but the father is 100% loving child of light.

So where does this leave us? Well, with the feeling that Luke had this unique parable of Jesus (he is the only one of the four Gospel writers to include it) and didn’t quite know what to make of it or where to put it. The story does make us think and think again — what are we to do with the responsibilities and temptations of the mammon we possess; how are we to live wisely in this world but not of it, a kind Artful Dodger as a Child of Light?

In our baptism, after we have been washed in the water, the pastor lays her hands on our heads and prays, “God, sustain your child with the gift of your Holy Spirit; the spirit of wisdom and understanding; the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, the spirit of joy in your presence, both now and forever.” Sometimes the beginning of wisdom is to realize “I know not,” because from there understanding can grow. Amen.