Lk 16:1-13

23 September 2001

 

"True Riches"

 

Of the many things I like about the Bible, one would have to be its use of imagery.  It runs the gamut of experiences and emotions, from awe-inspiring to positively dreadful.  Still, as vivid as its images often are, the words of scripture can leave us trying to piece together the puzzle of what's really going on.

Today's gospel reading, the parable of the dishonest manager, is a good example.  For ages, people have fretted and worried over this one.  Apparently, Jesus is congratulating this shady character on the way he weasels himself out of trouble.  But that can't be right!  Surely our Lord is not approving of such underhanded behavior!

This is where the written word alone fails us.  If we could just hear it spoken, if we could just hear the nuances, the vocal inflections¼  Or if we had a visual recording of Jesus with the disciples, we could see facial expressions.  We would be able to verify if, as some people suspect, Jesus is just kidding.  He doesn't really want his disciples to rip people off!

Actually, I'm in that group of people who've been confused by this parable.  I even decided to present this story to the guys who came to Men's Fellowship in August, when our topic was money.  I told them I'd be using this gospel reading, and I wanted to see what they thought about it.  As I recall, no especially bizarre interpretations emerged from that meeting.

I have to admit, I am attracted to the idea that Jesus is using humor with his disciples.  It certainly wouldn't be the only time that he says or does something unexpected to make a point!  Still, I also have to admit that humor, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.  Not everyone agrees on what's funny.  One thing we can say about today's parable is that it has plenty of irony, even sarcasm.

So what's it all about?  It seems that there's this rich man who has a manager running his business.  So far, so good.  However, the owner gets word that the manager has been wasting his money.  It's not completely clear if the manager has simply been careless or is actually embezzling funds.  In any event, he's about to be fired, because when his boss goes over the records that he's requested, he'll see that the rumor is true.

Too weak to do physical labor like digging and too proud to beg, our friend has to work something out; otherwise, his next address will be the street!  He has to figure out how to get "people [to] welcome [him] into their homes" (v. 4).  So, crafty devil that he is, the dishonest manager comes up with plan B.  What he'll do is curry favor with his boss's customers by giving them some deep discounts.

Again, it's not entirely clear how he does this.  Does he, in a final fit of squander, cheat his employer one last time as he collects the outstanding debts?  Or has he also been gouging the customers, overcharging them, and only now asking for the correct price?  Whatever the case, the scripture tells us that he is dishonest.

It's at this point that the story takes a strange turn.  "And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly" (v. 8a).  Whether or not he's gotten ripped off one more time, the rich man just seems to be glad to have the debts called in.  His approach to the manager is basically, "I don't know how you did it, and I don't care; I'm just glad you did!  But you're still fired!"

What has driven people nuts over the centuries is the spin Jesus puts on the parable, one that seems to wink at the crooked deeds of the manager.  He explains the owner's evident approval of those final actions by saying that "the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light" (v. 8b).  Of course, being called "shrewd" isn't necessarily a compliment!

But with verse 9, Jesus goes even further:  "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."  "Dishonest wealth":  that's the dreaded word "mammon."  Again, where's that video camera?  Is he saying this with a straight face?  Is his tone of voice solemn or playful?  Is Jesus speaking words engraved in stone or is he having a little bit of fun with his disciples?  That would seem to make a difference!

We can detect a touch of sarcasm by his use of the phrase "the eternal homes."  We're reminded of the dishonest manager's hope in verse 4 that "people [would] welcome [him] into their homes."  The Greek word there is the ordinary word for "houses."  In verse 9, Jesus uses the word skhna" (skēnas), meaning "tents," which by nature are quite temporary and hardly eternal!  (Anyone who's struggled to erect a tent can testify to that!)  Maybe it's just me, but I can't help but feel that Jesus is being facetious.  Commanding his disciples to befriend others with unrighteous mammon, so that they may gain entrance to "eternal tents" doesn't quite have the ring of sober advice!  (Not that it still isn't helpful!)

Here's what we might call a conventional, non-humorous, view of Jesus' explanation:  If the children of light—if Christians—were as committed to using wealth to promote God's interests as worldly people are in using it to promote their interests, we would see more signs of the coming kingdom of God.  To put it simply, the world would be a much better place.  The late Walter Bowie, Episcopal priest and professor, put it this way:  "[P]erhaps what [Jesus] meant was to remind his often blundering disciples that in addition to good hearts it was important that they also use their brains.  What would they do in a crisis?  How far could they look ahead and find new possibilities when what they had depended upon before was swept away?"[1]

As if to answer counter any false ideas that might be drawn from the parable, Luke includes verses 10 to 13, a section that deals with faithfulness.  Many believe that these words were spoken on other occasions.  For example, Matthew's gospel includes similar words with the parable of the talents (25:21).

Jesus instructs the disciples, "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" (v. 10).  Walter Bowie reminds us that our "character comes out in the decisions of every day.  If [we] are dishonest in the little things, [we] will be dishonest all along the line."[2]  That's a lot like the idea that it's easy to do the right thing if you know someone is watching.  The real test of character is to do the right thing when no one knows, and never will know, what you've done.

I'm reminded of Christine Pohl's statement, which I mentioned last week, that we all need someone to speak truth into our lives.  Looking at our parable, she amplifies that and puts it at the global level.  "How we use mammon," she says, "is a clear and accurate indicator of our priorities."  She wonders, "would we be willing to show our checkbooks and investment portfolios to a faithful, impoverished Christian in another part of the world?  So much of our misuse of mammon is possible because our choices escape scrutiny.  For most of us, what we do with our resources is a very private matter.  Furthermore, rarely do we see such decisions as central to our piety or to our friendships with poor people."[3]

I must admit, I wouldn't be very comfortable giving my starving brothers and sisters a peek at my checkbook.  They might think my goal in life is to support credit card companies.  I wonder, how faithful am I with “dishonest wealth”?  How carefully do I follow the path to “the true riches” of verse 11?

In the new class, "Committed Conversations over Coffee and Goodies," we've begun by looking at one of Tony Campolo's videos.  (By the way, we meet at 9am every Sunday!)  In the first session, which we've watched these first two weeks, Tony Campolo, who teaches sociology at Eastern College in suburban Philadelphia, tells the story of two of his former students.  He does this within the context of discussing what Francis Fukuyama has called "the last great idea":  democratic capitalism.

Anyway, Campolo first talks about a student who, after a medical missionary trip to Haiti, is inspired to return to the States, get his education, and serve the Haitians, who are desperately short of doctors.  Campolo then goes on to say that he recently encountered this young man, who in fact did complete his medical training, but he isn't serving poor people in Haiti who need medical attention.  Instead, he's serving rich women in New York City who want cosmetic surgery.

Tony Campolo then speaks of another student, one who went on to Harvard Law School and graduated with honors.  He could have gotten a position at almost any major law firm on the East Coast, but he wound up in "a one-room flat," as Campolo puts it, in Montgomery, Alabama.  So what's this hotshot attorney doing with his considerable skills?  Serving the poor on death row.  Campolo says that after he asked his student about his feelings on capital punishment, he had this put back to him:  You know that's not what it's about.  In our country, the death penalty isn't as much about guilt and innocence as it is about rich and poor.  We don't execute people with money.  (Or words to that effect.)

So we have two young men—Christians—who believe that God has given them a vision for their lives.  One stays true to the vision; the other does not.  Like all of us, they've been immersed in our culture's message that the purpose of an education, and indeed the purpose of life, is to get a good job, so you can make lots of money, so you can buy lots of…things.

That's the danger of wealth, of "mammon," as Jesus calls it.  It's a divine gift, but it's a dangerous one.  It can work its way into our spirits, until there's no room left for God.  It becomes increasingly difficult to stay focused on the vision God has given us when the visions of our consumer culture bombard us from all directions.  Discipline and commitment—two unpopular words!—are needed to stay on track.  "No slave can serve two masters," Jesus tells his disciples.  "You cannot serve God and wealth" (v. 13).

In the video, Tony Campolo asks his audience:  What happened to you?  What happened to your vision?  You know that there was—that there is—something God has for you to do with your life.  That's the question that we face every day.  Are you, are we, living the vision?  Are we living our lives passionately for God?  Or are we tiptoeing through life so that we can safely reach our graves?  It's never too late to actually start living!