Good Stewardship?
Are you kidding me??
Text: Luke 16:1-13
It’s wrong. It’s all wrong… a crook is complemented for his crookedness? It doesn’t make sense! When we read the Bible, we expect neat, tidy little stories. We expect short little statements, brief guidelines of how to live our lives. No loose ends, no tangled threads. But here is a story about a dishonest manager, a story riddled with irony, apparent contradictions, combined with an outcome that just doesn’t make sense. What a mess! No matter what kind of approach we take to explain this parable, we invariably get stuck somewhere. There are no good guys, no happy endings, just a frustrating and confusing conclusion. This parable reminds us of how troubling the words of Jesus can be. Jesus, through the dishonest manager reveals something about God’s grace and love in a far more troubling —yet assuring— light.
When faced with financial crisis, people will often do strange things. More than fifteen years ago, I worked for a small games store in Calgary. Hired just after high school, I worked there part-time off and on for over a period of three years. Just after New Year’s 1991, I walked into the store for my regular shift, and promptly discovered that this would be my last day of work. The store’s owner was deeply in debt, and was preparing to file for bankruptcy.
To the best of my knowledge at the time, filing for bankruptcy would break the tenant lease agreement with each of the three malls in which he had shops. If a lease is broken, then the mall management company had the right to seize all of the goods within the store. His solution, as my friend called it, was to “bug out.” He waited until he had pocketed the profits of Christmas before he made his move. Under the pretence of GST re-pricing and inventory, we loaded all of the merchandise onto a waiting truck and disappeared into the night. By the time the mall holding company figured out what was going on, he had filed for bankruptcy protection —and pocketed a fair sum. Ethically questionable? —Oh Yes. Shrewd? Definitely. As an employee I found myself a bit confused.
This is the kind of thing that we expect from the dishonest manager —or from most people when faced with unemployment. Under threat of losing their job, what would most people do? Cut and run. Grab as much cash as possible. Make a break for the border. I am sure that the Cayman Islands are quite nice this time of year! But what does the dishonest manager do? He does the opposite, he doesn’t cut and run. Instead of skipping the country with all his ill-gotten goods, this manager opens up the books again to work his accounting magic. What does he do? He essentially liquidates all of his own shady profits, in exchange for future favours from his boss’ clients. He gives all his money away by cooking the books! It doesn’t make sense!
Think back to my former boss in Calgary. Had he followed the bail-out plan of the dishonest manger, not only would he have left all the merchandise in the shop, he would have filled the store’s shelves with the remaining goods from the warehouse instead of the other way around, declared bankruptcy, let the mall owners auction off all the goods, and then rely on their good graces to get by!
There is a real temptation to draw the line here. After all, by his new creative accounting, this manager in the parable has done the right thing —even at great cost to himself. We can draw out a thread of personal sacrifice, and tie this parable into a nice neat package. But we can’t. Why? Because while he does the right thing, he does so for all the wrong reasons. It was his contingency plan! It is clear from the original Greek text that he knew all along what he would do if found out. He intended to open the books and slash his ill profits from day one.
By definition, a person who is shrewd has a keen understanding of practical matters and is cunning when dealing with others. By playing with the books, and handing away his fortune, this corrupt manager comes out looking noble and concerned. This it was not a reaction to a short term crisis, or an act of desperation, but a well-planned contingency. The debtors treat him with greater respect, because thanks to the manager, they owe less than what they thought. Is this then a reformed crook? Is this someone who has put the well being of others before his own? Yet his boss, instead of blasting him, commends him for this sneaky, underhanded, and manipulative victory:
“I might be sleazy,” says the boss to the manager. “But you... you take the cake! I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve got lots of guts to pull off something like that! And you did it! I wish I had thought of that! You’re my kind of scum! Fearless, and inventive!”
The manager comes out looking like a rose, but this whole thing stinks like a sewer rat. Instead of a nice, neat package, we are left even more confused. What on earth was Jesus getting at?
If it is any consolation, even the most learned biblical scholars cannot agree how to interpret this parable. This is a story of dirty, rotten scoundrels, of bottom-feeding “Econoslime”. There are no good guys. In terms of this story, neither the boss nor the manager are even slightly morally superior than the other. Each time we start to identify with characters in the story, they suddenly do something that is corrupt and reprehensible. The manager is sleaze, so too is his boss. We cannot use them as role models. Neither can we use this parable for a model for economic responsibility. This is not to be taken as a lesson on stewardship, because embezzling managers and corrupt bosses are not to be our archetypes for conducting our financial affairs.
So here we are. What do we make of it all? This story does not provide us with a noble example of faith. Rather it ensnares us in a rat’s nest that strips away our defenses. It exposes our own self-righteousness, and our own failings. We read it, we hear it, and we fight for a way out. We want it to make sense. Yet Jesus does not let us off the hook that easily. This parable is so difficult, because it twists and turns. It’s controversial —but then so was Jesus. It’s challenging. So was Jesus. It doesn’t make sense. Yet neither did Jesus.
This parable came from the lips of one who ate with sinners, spoke the word of hope to the outcast, and gave us a glimpse of the kingdom. If this parable strikes us as being wrong, it is probably because it is. God’s love is all wrong. We don’t deserve it, and yet God loves us unconditionally, warts and all. God’s grace is undeserved, unmerited, unwarranted —yet freely given.
God’s grace works through all of us, so good may even come from pondscum like this —people like us. Despite all of our failings and misgivings, despite all of our selfish and self-serving plots, God still loves us. Grace works through us even when we fall down. Yet we still ask, “how can a right come out of wrong?” This is the lesson of grace. God wrestles positive out of the negative. After all, God wrought the greatest right out of the most horrible of wrongs. God transformed the cross from an instrument of death, to a symbol of new life in the resurrection. The wrongs inflicted by nails and a crown of thorns, were crushed by the stone that was rolled away.
The parable of the dishonest manager cannot be reduced to a “cool teaching.” It is troubling. It is disturbing. If taken as a guide about how to handle business practices it can even be dangerous. Luke wishes to make this clear by including another independent saying of Jesus: “a slave cannot have two masters... you cannot serve God and wealth.” (Luke 16:13) This tempers the parable. Luke himself understood it significantly to know that this parable could easily become a justification for economic debauchery. Instead, it serves as a glimpse of God’s grace. We see God working in places we never thought possible. We are reminded that we are children of God, called to respond to God’s love. Yet even when we fall, God’s grace can and does continue to work through us. It is a humbling revelation to be sure.
No matter how troubling it might be, this parable speaks a word of encouragement. It shatters the excuses we put forward to deny our own service. Through the twists and turns of the parable, we can no longer say “I am not good enough, I am not worthy for God’s service.” If God can bring right out of wrong, then God can work through our imperfections. If God can work positively through a character like this manager, then there is hope for us.
If we believe God to work in and through us, despite our failings —if we believe that God is more than capable of drawing out positive from negative— then how can we help but to respond in joy? We are called to use our ingenuity to seek what is best for our neighbour. We are called to use our creativity to speak hope to those who have none. We are called to be shrewd in the way we reflect the love of God to those around us. We are called to reflect God’s love in who we are, and what we do. Underlying all of this we remember the promise and support of God’s grace.
Amen.
It’s wrong. It’s all wrong… a crook is complemented for his crookedness? It doesn’t make sense! When we read the Bible, we expect neat, tidy little stories. We expect short little statements, brief guidelines of how to live our lives. No loose ends, no tangled threads. But here is a story about a dishonest manager, a story riddled with irony, apparent contradictions, combined with an outcome that just doesn’t make sense. What a mess! No matter what kind of approach we take to explain this parable, we invariably get stuck somewhere. There are no good guys, no happy endings, just a frustrating and confusing conclusion. This parable reminds us of how troubling the words of Jesus can be. Jesus, through the dishonest manager reveals something about God’s grace and love in a far more troubling —yet assuring— light.
When faced with financial crisis, people will often do strange things. More than fifteen years ago, I worked for a small games store in Calgary. Hired just after high school, I worked there part-time off and on for over a period of three years. Just after New Year’s 1991, I walked into the store for my regular shift, and promptly discovered that this would be my last day of work. The store’s owner was deeply in debt, and was preparing to file for bankruptcy.
To the best of my knowledge at the time, filing for bankruptcy would break the tenant lease agreement with each of the three malls in which he had shops. If a lease is broken, then the mall management company had the right to seize all of the goods within the store. His solution, as my friend called it, was to “bug out.” He waited until he had pocketed the profits of Christmas before he made his move. Under the pretence of GST re-pricing and inventory, we loaded all of the merchandise onto a waiting truck and disappeared into the night. By the time the mall holding company figured out what was going on, he had filed for bankruptcy protection —and pocketed a fair sum. Ethically questionable? —Oh Yes. Shrewd? Definitely. As an employee I found myself a bit confused.
This is the kind of thing that we expect from the dishonest manager —or from most people when faced with unemployment. Under threat of losing their job, what would most people do? Cut and run. Grab as much cash as possible. Make a break for the border. I am sure that the Cayman Islands are quite nice this time of year! But what does the dishonest manager do? He does the opposite, he doesn’t cut and run. Instead of skipping the country with all his ill-gotten goods, this manager opens up the books again to work his accounting magic. What does he do? He essentially liquidates all of his own shady profits, in exchange for future favours from his boss’ clients. He gives all his money away by cooking the books! It doesn’t make sense!
Think back to my former boss in Calgary. Had he followed the bail-out plan of the dishonest manger, not only would he have left all the merchandise in the shop, he would have filled the store’s shelves with the remaining goods from the warehouse instead of the other way around, declared bankruptcy, let the mall owners auction off all the goods, and then rely on their good graces to get by!
There is a real temptation to draw the line here. After all, by his new creative accounting, this manager in the parable has done the right thing —even at great cost to himself. We can draw out a thread of personal sacrifice, and tie this parable into a nice neat package. But we can’t. Why? Because while he does the right thing, he does so for all the wrong reasons. It was his contingency plan! It is clear from the original Greek text that he knew all along what he would do if found out. He intended to open the books and slash his ill profits from day one.
By definition, a person who is shrewd has a keen understanding of practical matters and is cunning when dealing with others. By playing with the books, and handing away his fortune, this corrupt manager comes out looking noble and concerned. This it was not a reaction to a short term crisis, or an act of desperation, but a well-planned contingency. The debtors treat him with greater respect, because thanks to the manager, they owe less than what they thought. Is this then a reformed crook? Is this someone who has put the well being of others before his own? Yet his boss, instead of blasting him, commends him for this sneaky, underhanded, and manipulative victory:
“I might be sleazy,” says the boss to the manager. “But you... you take the cake! I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve got lots of guts to pull off something like that! And you did it! I wish I had thought of that! You’re my kind of scum! Fearless, and inventive!”
The manager comes out looking like a rose, but this whole thing stinks like a sewer rat. Instead of a nice, neat package, we are left even more confused. What on earth was Jesus getting at?
If it is any consolation, even the most learned biblical scholars cannot agree how to interpret this parable. This is a story of dirty, rotten scoundrels, of bottom-feeding “Econoslime”. There are no good guys. In terms of this story, neither the boss nor the manager are even slightly morally superior than the other. Each time we start to identify with characters in the story, they suddenly do something that is corrupt and reprehensible. The manager is sleaze, so too is his boss. We cannot use them as role models. Neither can we use this parable for a model for economic responsibility. This is not to be taken as a lesson on stewardship, because embezzling managers and corrupt bosses are not to be our archetypes for conducting our financial affairs.
So here we are. What do we make of it all? This story does not provide us with a noble example of faith. Rather it ensnares us in a rat’s nest that strips away our defenses. It exposes our own self-righteousness, and our own failings. We read it, we hear it, and we fight for a way out. We want it to make sense. Yet Jesus does not let us off the hook that easily. This parable is so difficult, because it twists and turns. It’s controversial —but then so was Jesus. It’s challenging. So was Jesus. It doesn’t make sense. Yet neither did Jesus.
This parable came from the lips of one who ate with sinners, spoke the word of hope to the outcast, and gave us a glimpse of the kingdom. If this parable strikes us as being wrong, it is probably because it is. God’s love is all wrong. We don’t deserve it, and yet God loves us unconditionally, warts and all. God’s grace is undeserved, unmerited, unwarranted —yet freely given.
God’s grace works through all of us, so good may even come from pondscum like this —people like us. Despite all of our failings and misgivings, despite all of our selfish and self-serving plots, God still loves us. Grace works through us even when we fall down. Yet we still ask, “how can a right come out of wrong?” This is the lesson of grace. God wrestles positive out of the negative. After all, God wrought the greatest right out of the most horrible of wrongs. God transformed the cross from an instrument of death, to a symbol of new life in the resurrection. The wrongs inflicted by nails and a crown of thorns, were crushed by the stone that was rolled away.
The parable of the dishonest manager cannot be reduced to a “cool teaching.” It is troubling. It is disturbing. If taken as a guide about how to handle business practices it can even be dangerous. Luke wishes to make this clear by including another independent saying of Jesus: “a slave cannot have two masters... you cannot serve God and wealth.” (Luke 16:13) This tempers the parable. Luke himself understood it significantly to know that this parable could easily become a justification for economic debauchery. Instead, it serves as a glimpse of God’s grace. We see God working in places we never thought possible. We are reminded that we are children of God, called to respond to God’s love. Yet even when we fall, God’s grace can and does continue to work through us. It is a humbling revelation to be sure.
No matter how troubling it might be, this parable speaks a word of encouragement. It shatters the excuses we put forward to deny our own service. Through the twists and turns of the parable, we can no longer say “I am not good enough, I am not worthy for God’s service.” If God can bring right out of wrong, then God can work through our imperfections. If God can work positively through a character like this manager, then there is hope for us.
If we believe God to work in and through us, despite our failings —if we believe that God is more than capable of drawing out positive from negative— then how can we help but to respond in joy? We are called to use our ingenuity to seek what is best for our neighbour. We are called to use our creativity to speak hope to those who have none. We are called to be shrewd in the way we reflect the love of God to those around us. We are called to reflect God’s love in who we are, and what we do. Underlying all of this we remember the promise and support of God’s grace.
Amen.
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