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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 in 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
seems more a pragmatist here than a prophet. But what he wants is
for us to walk away from this parable scratching our heads, and 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 if some of our decisions
are prompted by motives that are downright selfish, it doesn’t seem
to matter. “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
the last word that comes to mind with this parable. “Crafty” comes
closer. “Learn from the dishonest steward,” Jesus says. Learn, not
from his dishonesty but from his shrewdness, his craftiness. Jesus
is saying that we are to be as shrewd and calculating in the way we
live our faith as we are when it comes to 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 God’s 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 today’s dishonest steward who, when faced with imminent
unemployment, realized that he’d better do something quickly because
he was didn’t like to dig and was ashamed to beg.
My friends, neither
the dishonest 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, a dishonest
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
our histories are even more colorful or compromised!). 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
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