“Make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”
This morning’s gospel is part of a larger discussion in Luke on the meaning of money and wealth. In the previous chapter is the parable we traditionally call “the prodigal son,” which among other things raises the question of whether a family’s wealth is more important than one of its children. After this morning’s reading (it will be next week’s gospel) we have the parable of “the rich man and Lazarus,” which leads us to see that wealth is for easing other people’s suffering in the here and now, before the die is cast and it’s too late.
In between them is this odd parable about a household steward of dubious moral character. As with all parables, we can’t just take this story as a straightforward exhortation about what God wants and approves. Parables just show us a vision and ask us to look at it, to reflect on it. If we do that, hearing the parable on its own terms, then this surprising story has considerable power to make us see in new ways.
First, let’s talk about the characters. The rich man, also called the “master,” enters the parable only to fire the steward and then at the end to commend him. What sort of person is he? He’s rich, and he seems unmoved by the hardship he brings on his steward. But that’s about it for the master. The debtors receive even less character development than the rich master does: all we know about them is the amounts they owe.(1) But apart from that these debtors, like the rich master, are what literary studies people call “flat characters,” characters who are just there to move the story along. In contrast, the steward’s character is remarkably well fleshed out for such a short story. He is first introduced with the accusation that he is incompetently “wasting” the things under his charge, and for that he is to be fired. In verse 3 we can see his inner thought process, planning to survive and secure his livelihood as well as he can. His terse summary of his quandary, “I am not strong enough to dig and I am ashamed to beg,” shows us his character better than a whole paragraph full of exposition would do. The next verse shows us his satisfaction as he comes up with a viable plan. We still don’t know what the plan is, but we see that he does, and we see his realization that his hope lies in the community’s goodwill.
No narrator tells us what the steward plans; it is revealed only by his action when he sits down with each debtor and instructs them to discount their bill, essentially buying friends for himself by changing the ledgers, cheating the master out of part of what’s owed him. Yet no narrator stands up and tells us that these actions were wrong or right. We’re just given the picture and asked to look at it. The question comes to my mind, though as yet it’s not raised by the story: “Is the steward doing right?” and the answer, also from my mind, would seem to be “clearly not.”
And yet the rich master praises the steward (v. 8a), now identified as “dishonest” or “unjust,” for his “wisdom” or “savvy.” It’s a positive trait. It’s the same word used of a person who builds a house on a rock rather than on sand (Matt 7:24), and of the virgins who keep their lamps ready for their master’s return (Matt 24:45 — 25:10). So when we see “shrewd” in the NRSV’s translation we shouldn’t see that as any kind of criticism. Rather, I think we have to see the master as expressing genuine approval of the steward’s transgressive actions. But in what sense can the steward’s actions be considered “wise”? The subsequent verses give four different answers that appear to be placed side by side in order to convey a sense of the conversation in Luke’s community about money.
The first answer appears in the second half of verse 8, which seems to understand the story as a meditation on the wisdom of securing one’s livelihood by building relationships with others, even if those relationships are self-serving. The master commends the steward not for his shady dealings as such but for using the scam prudently. The steward is one of the “children of this world” whose wisdom serves as an example for the “children of light” to follow. Is the example we’re supposed to follow that we should be charitable by giving away other people’s property?(2) So it would seem, according the second half of verse 8.
In verse 9 we have, I think, a different speaker, applying the story in a slightly different way. I’ll show you what I mean. In what sense can the discounted parts of the grain and olive oil be termed “unrighteous” or “unjust” wealth? Was this particular wealth unjust because it had been stolen by the steward, or was it already unjust before it was stolen, perhaps because of unjust business practices like the ones condemned in Amos, using deliberately unbalanced scales and pricing gimmicks? If the wealth was already unrighteous when the steward charged it off, then the steward may be commended not only for his savvy but for his charity. This is the dominant interpretation given by early Christian theologians like St. Augustine, who saw this parable as an object lesson in charitable giving. An updated version of this interpretation sees the rich master as part of the corrupt aristocracy who come so often under the prophets’ scornful gaze, so that the entire economic system is corrupted by injustice. As the modern New Testament scholar François Bovon quips, the only way to make dirty money clean is to give it away.(3) And there have been Christians over the years, for example St. Francis of Assisi and his companion Claire, who advocated abandoning all wealth because it was tainted by the world’s injustice, choosing to live in poverty. I think all of us should struggle a bit with how our consumerism contributes to global suffering. If you’re like me you’re tempted to stand on a soapbox (or in a pulpit!), maybe with just a touch of self-righteousness, and do what you can not to participate in “the system.” But the speaker of verse 9 advocates using the admittedly contaminated wealth to foster community and improve justice.
The last two interpretive comments articulate more Establishment-friendly views. In verses 10-12 we have a different speaker yet, drawing a different lesson from the parable, and this time expressing almost the opposite perspective to that offered in the previous verses. Now the parable is “redirected” to talk about dishonest people and whether they can ever be trusted again. The position taken here is not in any way a criticism of the economic system, but rather represents a perspective usually taken by the powerful, the perspective of the wealthy master, if you will, or to use a modern term, this perspective is bourgeois. Finally, verse 13 brings out another saying of Jesus, identical with a saying in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount (6:24), saying in this context that any use of wealth at all must be avoided.
See what I mean about how the author of Luke (or an editor) placed these very different understandings of what the parable is about side by side? So what we have here is not a straightforward “teaching” about money, but a conversation between diverse people as they engage with one another about how Christians should think about wealth. Like Jesus’ disciples, we’re invited to wrestle with the question of how best to use money for the Kingdom of God, and there is room for disagreement on that. What there isn’t any room for disagreement on is the fact that God is paying particular attention to how we treat the poor. We participate in an economic system that, as Amos says, essentially treats the poor as commodities to be traded, little more than consumers to whom we might sell things. We take as much money as we can get for as little product as possible, all to increase profit. And the harm that does to the poor, to human society as a whole, and to the environment, rarely troubles our conscience because What can I do about it? I’m just one person. I totally get that, and it’s the same with me. So like Luke, I’m not going to give you ”the right answer” on the question of money; I’m just going to open the question and let you wrestle with it. If we remember that God cares how we treat the poor in our community, that God holds us accountable not only for how we personally treat them but for how we allow our society to treat them, then we can discuss and even disagree about how to serve them best … but we have to agree that making their lives better is what we’re really trying to do.
“Make friends for yourselves by means of unjust wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” Friends, community, enemies, even the people regarded as worthless by everyone else, these are all infinitely more important than all our wealth; and whereas money can never last, the relationships we build do.
So invest wisely.
[1] The amounts they owe are significant: by my estimation we’re talking about around 581 gallons of olive oil and 22 cubic yards of grain, well over the total amounts harvested by an average farmer in that world. So these debtors are themselves pretty wealthy, which may mean that they are landholders, with serfs who work the actual fields.
[2] Ephrem the Syrian, a contemporary of Augustine: “[The steward] was praised because he acquired what was to be his by what was not his, namely, his friends and supporters….O children of Adam, buy for yourselves those things that do not pass away, by means of those temporary things that are not yours!” Arthur A. Just, Luke (Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, vol. 3; Downer’s Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2003) 255.
[3] François Bovon, Luke 2 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress), 451.
