Mass readings for the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time:
Amos 8.4-7 Psalm 113.1-2, 4-8 1 Timothy 2.1-7 Luke 16.1-13
Jesus today gives us a parable that is a puzzler. Every time I come to it in the course of the three-year lectionary cycle, I’m confronted by the strangeness of it; and I struggle to come back to my prior understanding that made sense of it. I mean, does Jesus want us, children of light, to imitate, in some way, the “worldly” behaviour of the children of darkness? And what does he mean by “dishonest wealth” which posits the existence of “true wealth”? Is this worldly wealth versus the treasure we store up in heaven? In listening to the parable are we to admire the dishonest steward, or just his cleverness?
Well, I think we can say that his shrewdness, in and of itself, is admirable in that the steward sees his predicament, and figures out the best solution to his problem. He’s about to lose his job, to be thrown out onto the streets, and he knows he’s too out of shape to pick up a shovel to earn a living for himself. So, he cheats his master, who’s going to fire him anyway, by reducing the debts owed on the business ledgers he keeps for his lord. Then, those he helped out owe him; and so, have some obligation to help him as he comes into his time of need.
But that kind of admiration is tainted by our seeing that he’s not an honest or innocent man. To admire his cleverness is to admire say, the lawyer who works for the mob winning an acquittal on a technicality for someone clearly guilty of a heinous crime. It’s to read the history of a tyrant like Napoleon, and grudgingly admit he was a great commander of armies. Clearly, in both instances there is unease in admiring what is nonetheless a demonstration of intelligence and mastery of technique, but we don’t like the result.
And in this instance, it’s a dishonest man who is back in the good graces of his master who knows of his incompetence, corruption, dishonesty. I’m sure many have seen this actually happen in their working lives and society generally; the worst people unaccountably rising in the world despite what seems to us obvious immorality on their part, a lack of true ethics in their dealings. Somehow, they’ve pleased those in power and are rewarded.
Well, we need to remember who the dishonest steward represents in Jesus’ teaching: us. To one degree or another, we’ve not always been the best stewards of what God has given us; and sometimes we’ve squandered it, sometimes used it for evil ends. Each of our lives is a unique opportunity for creation to manifest the divine. It also creates the possibility for evil. Each of us is given the chance to exercise our fundamental freedom to choose the good, and to serve God and others in love. Or we can choose to be selfish, to instead practice evil in one way or another in grasping after power and wealth, those things we think will fulfil our lives, that we think will keep us safe.
If we’re honest, our ledgers at certain points in our lives probably haven’t look good: there were a lot of entries in red ink.
I believe what this story illustrates is that experience so many of us have had when by God’s grace, we realize we are that dishonest steward, and God will be asking to look over our account book. What did we do with what was entrusted to us, our life?
And in that realization, there is a tremendous fear. One might recall the words of Amazing Grace, that wonderful hymn: “twas Grace that taught my heart to fear…” And we rightly fear – this isn’t about losing a job, this is about being cast forever into the outer darkness, forever alienated from God, from love.
So, if that is the case, how do we apply the rest of the parable? How can going around forgiving debts serve an escape from hell? In the story, we understand that the steward will still be in this world, and forced to find a new of making a living. If this is a metaphor for life itself, there is nothing in the way of a second earthly life after this, no second chance. What is the point of cooking the books?
Well, we do have to remember that one of the marks of discipleship is our willingness to forgive. Those who sin against us, who hurt us, offend and injure us, they do incur a debt of a kind. But not just to us. If someone cheats me of money, he has stolen from me and I am sinned against, but that theft is also an offense against God who is perfect justice. Indeed, the offense is greater against Him because it is he who is the very principal that is violated. Now, if I forgive the person who stole from me, I do reduce that debt; my forgiveness is itself an intercession from to me to God on their behalf. But what is contained in my personal forgiveness is the sincere desire that comes of authentic Christian love that the person who harmed me repents, turns to God, and seeks to mend not just the relationship they had with me, but with God. They might choose to not do that; and the debt to God remains. And we all know how this works. Those who don’t seek the mercy of God in repentance and in the doing of penance, who refuse to repair what they’ve broken, mend what they’ve torn; they pay for that in their exclusion from heaven, their being barred from the kingdom of God. In this life then they will know the misery that visits all those who live their lives selfishly and without care for others; and then, in death know an everlasting alienation from God.
Yet in giving ourselves by faith to Christ, as we know, our Lord gladly covers our debt through his sacrifice on the cross; and in thanksgiving for that cancelling of what was owed, we offer our lives in service to God and others. We give in gratitude for the mercy we’ve received, for the love that has accepted us back, for the forgiveness that we participate in; forgiveness that heals not only ourselves, but the world.
We can’t pay the debts of others to God, we can recommend they seek that forgiveness through Christ.
But then, what of the “dishonest” wealth that Jesus speaks of? Well, it’s not so much that it is dishonestly earned, but that what we perceive as “wealth” isn’t genuine wealth – worldly wealth is itself a lie: it has no value in the kingdom of God.
For most of us, I think we see money as wealth. We also look at our assets as measured in dollars: the house we live in has its market value, the mutual funds invested for our retirement have a “book value” in dollars; we may have an art collection, vintage hockey cards, gold coins in a safety deposit box. All of these have their dollar value; but that dollar value is a deception. The true wealth Jesus speaks of can’t be assessed in dollar terms, but I think we know the value of friendship, and the richness that comes of a life of virtue, on neither can we set a price.
I don’t know if people still watch at Christmas that old black and white movie, It’s A Wonderful Life, but you might remember the final scene where the hero, George Bailey, is rescued from ruin by all his friends throughout his home town contributing their money to pay for an apparent shortfall at the credit union he operates. The richest man in town, in dollar terms, is the black-hearted Mr. Potter who actually engineered George’s downfall by dishonest means. Yet George’s brother at the conclusion of the film toasts his brother, who has barely scraped by from one to year to the next, as “the richest man in town.” I know that is quite the Hollywood happy ending, but whatever its sentimental faults, it speaks something we know to be true about what is of true value, and what is mistaken as wealth. His friends cough up their savings for the sake of a friend in need, because if George were to be taken from them, the loss would be greater than all the money they had.
The wealth that is honest, true, of real value, we know: it’s the love that accrues around us from the love we have given, indeed, invested in others, but also in the debts we’ve forgiven, the credit we’ve extended, the obligations we engender in each other that prompt not resentful repayment, but rather glad contributions to better the lives of others, or in some instances, for the sake of their rescue.
That’s greater than gold and silver, any amount of money, for this is accounted by God in heaven forever.
Amen.