Sermon 9/19/04
The Virtue of Shrewdness - Luke 16:1-13
(view lectionary notes for this text)
Today, we read another of Jesus' parables from the gospel of Luke, and at first read, at least for me, this one takes the cake for the strange and unusual advice that Jesus seems to give. It's full of problems, causing us to ask, "what on earth is Jesus talking about?" "Did somebody copy this down wrong?" "Are we on the right story, in the right book?" Even St. Augustine said, skeptically, "I can't believe that this story came from the lips of our Lord."
Indeed, today's parable is hard to digest. Jesus teaches his disciples with a parable of a manager - or steward of a rich man's money and possessions. Apparently, word gets back to the rich man that the manager had been "squandering the property." We're not told the details, but we know that the manager's actions are enough to get him fired. But this manager won't go quietly into the night - he fears that his job loss will also mean loss of status and welcome by others. Plus, he admits he has no interest in digging - he's not strong enough, he claims - and he is too proud to beg. He wants to remain in the good graces of the community at large - so he takes matters into his own hands. He summons all of his master's debtors - those who owed money to his master, and one by one he reduces their bills. This seems like an action that would certainly please the debtors, but would likely enrage his master.
OK, we say, we've followed so far. What a sneaky manager! But what comes next is shocking to our ears. Jesus concludes this story saying, "his master commended the dishonest steward because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. 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."
What? Jesus teaches us much about the characteristics of faithful discipleship, but shrewdness doesn't seem to be top on our usual lists. We are to love God and love neighbor. We seek to be humble and generous, giving and loving, open to God's leading. But today, we wonder if we're supposed to add 'shrewd' to our list. What do we do with this strange parable?
If we look again at the manager and the master's response to the manager's behavior, we might make a little more sense of this story. The master starts out upset with the steward for mishandling of his position. The steward, when he calls the debtors and reduces their bills, is not really acting in hopes of gaining his master's favor again, but in hopes of ingratiating himself to other people in his community. However, his dishonest actions have a surprising result: he actually has helped his master, in a round-about way. True, his master will now be receiving less money from all his debtors. But imagine the good will from the debtors to this rich man because he has reduced their bills. They are probably more likely to pay him now, since they owe smaller amounts, and they are more likely to borrow from him again, since he has been a good lender, thanks, inadvertently, to the shrewd and sneaky tactics of the manager. And they probably do all adore the manager, now, as he had hoped, since he has alleviated a great deal of their financial burdens. Imagine if someone reduced, today, fifty percent of your debt, by changing a few numbers around on your bill! The manager manages to come out on top, with the community, and with his master, despite the odds.
Still, what does all this have to do with us and with faithful living? These might be good business practices, but how do they apply to our relationship with God? We are encouraged by Jesus to "make friends for [ourselves] by means of dishonest wealth." What's going on here?
In an article in Pulpit Resource magazine, James Howell confesses that he is a "genius at leaving 'undone those thing [he] ought to have done.' We stewards have squandered our master's gifts." He continues, "You may hear a sermon and think, 'I'll go home and be Mother Teresa. I won't be materialistic any longer. I'll pray five times daily for an hour. I'll be a saint.' But you won't make it past lunchtime. Maybe our rich God understands. Maybe the God, whom we however lamely try to serve, is a God who's merciful." (1) Howell helps us put ourselves into our proper places in this story. We are the sneaky, yet shrewd steward, and the rich master represents God. We are like the manager, because first of all, God has entrusted to us all that God has created. We have care over all that God has given us here on earth. But, we are also like the manager, because we have squandered what God has entrusted to us! We have not taken our responsibilities very seriously, and suddenly, when God calls us to account, we're left scrambling trying to come up with some plan that won't make us look so bad and so negligent. Suddenly, we fear that we've let things go too long, and we don't want to lose our place, or our grace, altogether.
Howell quips, "Admit it; you won't be Mother Teresa tomorrow. You'll still be materialistic; it's the air we breathe. You'll be lucky to pray ten minutes, but do something. (emphasis added) Use your brain, your cleverness. If you give up a dime and make some step toward God, however feeble and toddling it may be, this God may be strangely pleased . . . maybe God sees our lame attempts in the way we view the coloring of a three-year-old. No bad pictures here. You hope for progress. You practice to improve." (1) God, our rich master, is ever more gracious and merciful than we are obedient to God's plans and hopes for us. We fail, we do so much less than we could. But God, ever the optimist, ever hopeful for us, accepts our feeble attempts, our sometimes misguided, usually last-minute thrown-together attempts at improvement - redeeming us when we can't redeem ourselves. God rewards us for even the little effort we make, even when our intentions aren't the best, even when we're only trying to save ourselves. Sometimes, we manage to get a little something right in the process, and God is glad we've tried.
I wish I could work out all the puzzles of this parable - when all is said and done, I still find it very confusing! But I think that we can take away from this parable some valuable lessons. First, I think we can be reminded that while we will probably not change all of our self-serving ways overnight, we can't let our imperfect nature be an excuse for inaction. Doing nothing benefits no one. But doing something - a little something - can do a lot - for the ones that we help - for ourselves - and for our relationship with God. Second, we can understand that God is endlessly forgiving. What boss would forgive a manager as sneaky and underhanded as the one in the parable? Only God could forgive such behavior, and try to turn it into a blessing for us. God knows our hearts, knows that we're anything but perfect, knows that more often that not, we outright ignore what God has asked us to do. But God loves us anyway, and is so eager for a relationship with us.
Take stock of your situation. Have you been a faithful steward of what God has given you? Faithful with the blessings you have? How have you cared for the money, the time, the talents, the family, the friends, the faith that God has worked in you? Chances are, an honest assessment mind find that you haven't been managing too well - that you've been squandering, even, what you've been given. Now is the time to take action - some action, any action, bold action, crazy action. Give a little more. Love a little more. Share a little more. God's store of grace for us is limitless, and God's desire for relationship with us is overflowing. Why pass up a chance to make things right when we know that God is ready to forgive, ready to help us try again? Be smart! Be shrewd! Be forgiven! Be loved!
Amen.
(1) Howell, James, Pulpit Resource, September 19th 2004 article, pg. 50-51.