The 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 18, 2016
Click here to listen to this
homily (mp4 file)
If you found the parable we just heard a bit puzzling and less than
edifying, you are probably not alone. This is one time Jesus seems
more interested in embarrassing than edifying -- embarrassing the likes of
you and me, “the children of the light,” as he calls us – shaming us into
seeing just how far short we can fall of the “children of this age” when it
comes to making the really important choices in life. “The children of
this age,” he says, “are more shrewd in dealing with their issues than are
the children of the light.”
But let’s be honest. The parable is kind of
irritating and it seems to reveal a different side of Jesus from 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, but also 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 we are, 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. Certainly not very lofty.
In fact, “lofty” is not the word that comes to mind
with this parable. “Crafty” comes closer. “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 living our faith
as we are in the mundane things of life: figuring our income taxes, sniffing
out a bargain, closing a business deal, planning for our retirement.
If we are, Jesus says, we will reap some enviable benefits. Heavenly
benefits. Like the steward of the parable, 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 dwellings.
And who is it that will be welcoming us one day
into the eternal kingdom? Let me give you my theory. I think it can
only be the poor whom we heard about in today’s reading from Amos and sang
about repeatedly in the responsorial psalm. Let me tell you why. In Luke’s
gospel the poor are always the ones with the advantage: the poor 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 and the repentant thief next to
him on the cross. Doesn’t it make sense, then, that the ones who will
welcome us into the kingdom will be the poor? And if that’s the case,
wouldn’t we be well advised to use whatever worldly goods we may be blessed
with to make friends with the poor? Selfish? Perhaps. But
also pretty enlightened. I’d call it good investment strategy!
But now let me 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 on licentious living wasn’t much
different from today’s dishonest steward who squandered his master’s
property by cooking the books. And when it came to saving his skin,
the Prodigal Son exhibited motives just about as noble as the dishonest
steward. You remember: when he woke up to how lonely and hungry and
far from home he was -- and how his father’s hired hands were a lot better
off than he was -- he suddenly had a conversion. A genuine conversion,
I’m sure, but a rather self–serving one, too - not unlike the conversion of
the unjust steward who, when faced with imminent unemployment, quickly
realized that he’d better do something quickly 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 doing 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 steward’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
