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The 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time
This rather puzzling parable reveals a different side of Jesus than the one we usually see in the gospels. Jesus plays more the pragmatist than the prophet here. He seems to want us to walk away from this parable scratching our heads and, yes, searching our souls about how astute we are when it comes to making the big choices of life – choices that impact our eternal destiny. How astute and how decisive. And it doesn’t seem to matter if some of our decisions are prompted by motives that are downright selfish. “Use this world’s goods to make friends for yourselves,” Jesus says, “so that when the goods are gone, you may be welcomed into the eternal kingdom.” Any way you cut it, that sounds selfish. Not very lofty at any rate. In fact, “lofty” is not what comes to mind with this parable. “Crafty” would be more like it. “Learn from the dishonest steward,” Jesus says. Not from his dishonesty but from his shrewdness, his craftiness. We are to be as shrewd and calculating in working out our salvation as we are in figuring our income taxes, sniffing out a bargain, closing a business deal, planning for our retirement. If we are, we will reap some enviable benefits. Heavenly benefits. Like the dishonest steward, if we’ve played it right, if we’ve “made friends for ourselves by means of this world’s goods,” we will be welcomed one day into the eternal kingdom. And who is it that will welcome us one day into the eternal kingdom? I think they can only be the poor. In Luke’s gospel the poor are always the ones with the advantage: they are the lowly ones of Mary’s Magnificat: the ones God lifts up from the dust in order to put down the mighty and powerful; the poor are the first ones at the manger in Bethlehem; the poor are the blessed ones of the beatitudes; the poor are the sinful woman at Jesus’ feet; the repentant thief next to him on the cross. Doesn’t it make sense, then, to think that the poor will be the ones to welcome us into the kingdom? And if they are, doesn’t it make good sense to use our world goods, whatever they may be, to make friends with them now? Selfish? Perhaps. But also pretty enlightened. Call it a good investment strategy! But now I’d like to shift, and take another look at this parable by putting it in the larger context of Luke’s gospel. The dishonest steward of today’s parable is not the only character in Luke’s gospel who acted shrewdly when he got into trouble by squandering the property of another. You know the other character even better than you know this one. He appeared in last week’s gospel in a very familiar parable. His name is the Prodigal Son. The prodigal son who sinfully squandered his inheritance wasn’t much different from today’s dishonest steward who squandered his master’s property. And then, when it came to saving his skin, he exhibited motives just about as noble as the dishonest steward. You remember: when the prodigal son woke up to how lonely and hungry and far from home he was -- and that his father’s hired hands were living far better off than he was -- he suddenly had a conversion. I’m sure it was real – to a point – but it was no more impressive as that of today’s unjust steward who, when faced with imminent unemployment, quickly realized that he had to do something because he was unable to dig and ashamed to beg. My friends, neither the unjust steward nor the prodigal son are paragons, that’s for sure. But give them both credit for being decisive and enterprising. And give God credit for being able to do the rest. After hearing today’s parable, and relating it to the parable of the prodigal son, I find myself thinking how wonderful it is that Jesus is able to use these all-too-human, even sleazy sorts (a prodigal son, an unjust steward) to tell stories about God’s grace and goodness. I find it encouraging, don’t you? We may not have histories as colorful or as compromised as the prodigal son’s or the unjust manager’s (or maybe we have even more colorful or compromised histories. No matter.) Jesus says there is room for us. Room for us in the embrace of a God whose mercy knows no bounds. We have a God with a Midas touch, if I may put it that way. A God whose grace and mercy can turn even the basest of human motives into pure gold. Father Michael G. Ryan |
