Sermon - The Rev. Elise A. Feyerherm - September 18th, 2022

If the parable in today’s gospel tells us anything, it is that it is impossible to reduce the Bible to some kind of rational, domesticated manual on how to be a “good person.” Parables in general tend to make our heads swim, but the parable of the “dishonest manager” in particular defies any attempt to garner a simple, straightforward meaning out of it. As disconcerting as that may be, however, this is as it should be. The teachings of Jesus, and the gospels that convey that teaching, are not meant to soothe and instruct so much as they are invitations into the deep, dark waters of the mysteries of the Holy One.

In her book Short Stories by Jesus, Amy-Jill Levine writes that “Reducing parables to a single meaning destroys their aesthetic as well as ethical potential.” She reminds us that Jesus and the gospel writers want us to think, to wrestle, rather than to expect simple instruction. We are invited into mystery. 

She further writes,‘Mystery’ is here not indicative of something arcane or in need of a special key to unlock a singular meaning. What makes the parables mysterious, or difficult, is that they challenge us to look into the hidden aspects of our own values, our own lives. They bring to the surface unasked questions, and they reveal the answers we have always known, but refuse to acknowledge. Our reaction to them should be one of resistance rather than acceptance. 

Resistance, rather than acceptance. Questions, rather than answers.

So instead of attempting to explain and clarify this parable, I’ve decided I want to sit with its inscrutability, its infuriating opaqueness. I wonder if we might tap into our resistance to this parable, and challenge our easy acceptance of the lessons we hope or expect to receive. I wonder if we can let ourselves squirm for a while.

The scene opens: “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property.” Right away we’re faced with our instinctive allegiances: quick, without thinking, with whom do you most identify? The rich man, or the manager? Even if you are neither rich nor working for someone who is, do you find yourself on one side or the other? With the one who has resources, or the one who makes a living by managing other people’s wealth? And more important still, am I aware of my allegiances? How does my place in the economic and professional world affect my assumptions, how I see right and wrong, how I perceive and judge others? The question is not if I have assumptions, but rather what they are. Because we do have them.

Do I see God in this parable yet? Do I assume that God is one of the characters, like a simple allegory? Do I identify God with those who are powerful or wealthy – and more importantly, if so, why? Do I imagine that Jesus thinks as I do? Or is it a trick question, and God isn’t in the parable at all? How does this change my interpretation?

As the story continues, the rich man calls the manager in to confront him about the charges of squandering. Whether we see ourselves as the rich man sitting behind an executive desk, or as the employee hauled in, or as a fly on the wall, do we assume that the charges are true? Do we assume that the manager is dishonest, even though that label isn’t given to him until much later in the story? Do we assume he just made a mistake? Do we judge him as in over his head, as not malicious but incompetent? He could be any of those things, and the parable does not clearly land on any particular judgment. If we prefer one over the others, what is there in our experience or values that has led us to this conclusion?

When the rich man dismisses the manager, do we sympathize with, if not exactly applaud, his willingness to make a tough decision? Do we recall times when we have had to let someone go for the good of the company, when they just weren’t up to snuff? Or have we been the one pushed out the door? Does the manager deserve to be fired, or is he being railroaded? Perhaps we have, at different times, been on opposite sides of the desk. In any case, where we have stood makes a difference in what we see. And the scene will change as our vantage point changes. 

This is why we keep reading scripture, the same stories over and over in the course of our lives. Scripture is like a river – you never step into the same one twice. Only instead of it being the river that is constantly flowing, it is we who are on the move.

When the manager goes to the rich man’s debtors, do we squirm at his actions? Would we prefer that he play by the rules of the system, even if they are unjust? Do we wish that he would look for more honest ways to change the system itself? Do you see him as Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor, or as someone who is disrupting a decent system out of spite? Or as something else?

One of the most grating lines – for me – is where Jesus tells his disciples to make friends for themselves by means of dishonest wealth. It smacks of ends justifying the means, and I wonder how on earth real friends can be bought with wealth that is dishonest. My resistance to the parable is strongest at this point. Which means that my reaction is in line with what Amy-Jill Levine believes is the aim of Jesus’ stories. 

And so I have to ask myself: what does this resistance mean? Is it because I am not understanding the meaning of this teaching? Or am I understanding it too well and simply don’t want to get my hands dirty, or sully my reputation for being a good upstanding citizen? Or is this all about turning an inherently corrupt system into a means of justice and community, and I’m just not sure how to do that?

Where is your greatest point of resistance in this strange story? What is it about? What if you couldn’t resolve it, but had to stay in a relationship with the parable that remained jarring and irritating? What if every time you came to this parable you saw it differently? What if the resistance never went away?

Some scholars think that this is the way Luke the evangelist felt. They interpret the ending explanation of the parable as Luke’s way of smoothing over the resistance, of dealing with the distress that not only Luke but his readers were experiencing. The fact that the parable of the shrewd manager is so baffling is just one more reason to believe that Jesus actually told this story – no one wanting to convince people that Jesus was the Messiah would make up a story like this one.

So, asks the doctor, where does it hurt? Is it the pain of touching something dangerous, like a hot stove, or is it the discomfort of moving muscles that have not been used for a long time? Is it the sensation of stretching just a little too far, and not being able to grasp the meaning we so long for? 

Our resistance is teaching us things – it reminds us that we are alive, made in the image of a God who did not flee the messiness of being in love with the world and with us. Our resistance, our struggle, our never-ending questions, bring us into the presence of a God who can never be contained or defined or controlled, and who seeks to give us more abundance and joy than we can ever imagine. 

Let us pray:

God of unexpected judgement, 

finding grace in the devious and compromised: 

free us from the certainty 

of having you in our grip

that a better wealth may flow 

through our open hands;

through Jesus Christ, 

the Currency of Life. Amen.