Proper 20C-1 Luke 16: 1-13
I don’t usually give titles to my sermons, but if I were going to do
that this morning I would call this one, “The Two Economies.” The Two Economies. When I taught History and Government for a couple
of years before seminary I had a 12-week unit for 10th graders, an Introduction
to Economics. A subject always
interesting, and especially in an election year. When we
talk about “economics” what we’re talking about begins in the most basic way with
an understanding of what is valued in any particular individual or society,
what is of importance, and then of how individuals and communities organize
their behavior--thoughts and feelings and interactions with one another--in
reference to what they value.
Jesus is talking about economics
here in the Parable of the Unjust Steward, Luke 16, verses 1-9—as he was also
in the three Parables that he has just told in Luke 15, as we looked at them
last Sunday—the Parable of the Lost Sheep, the Parable of the Lost Coin, and
the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which is sometimes to keep the pattern going
also called the Parable of the Lost Son.
The economies highlighted in the first three parables contrast with the
world of the parable we’ve heard this morning, and we keep them all in mind as
we move to the second part of this morning’s reading, in verses 10-15, as Jesus
speaks to the question of whether it’s really possible to serve “two “Masters.”
A few years ago I saw a bumper sticker that I thought captured something
of the spirit of the roaring 1990’s, at least in certain high-visibility
corners of our western culture. It said,
“He Who Dies with the Most Toys Wins.” An
implicit irony, intended to elicit a smile while still calling our attention to
a system of value rigorously centered on consumerism. Toys.
Fancy cars, fancy houses, wide-screen t.v.’s, designer purses, shiny jewelry, exotic
travel. How do I know I have success in
my life? Check out what’s in my driveway
. . . .
As a contrast, I remember sitting with my great friend and teacher, the
late Ken Bailey, brilliant New Testament scholar, our Canon Theologian here in
the diocese for many years. He was
talking about the passage in the 21st Chapter of the Revelation to
John where John has his vision of the heavenly Jerusalem. The city brilliant, shimmering, shining, its
walls and gates dazzling with the glitter of the rarest gems and jewels, its
streets paved with gold. He read
through the verses, paused just so we could take it all in, the daydream of a
resort destination more extravagant than any ever seen in a full-page,
full-color ad in the New York Times Magazine, and Dr. Bailey said, “here’s the
point: in God’s Kingdom, gold is just
the same as asphalt and glittering jewels are just all dumped in together with
gravel to be mortar for the bricks.
Everything that seems to us so precious—there, it’s just nothing. Of no importance. No value at all.” Turns out it’s the presence of God that gives
the city its glorious glow. The rocks
are just rocks.
So two contrasting economies. Two
Masters. The economy of this world as it
is, we might say, and the economy of the
Kingdom. On the one hand. The shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine to
seek after the one. The woman who caters
a dinner dance for half the county to celebrate her finding of a lost coin of
only modest value. The Father who puts
aside pride and status and even the privilege of his righteous grievance, to
bring about forgiveness and reconciliation in his family.
And then, on the other hand. Jesus
goes on to tell the story we heard this morning about a manager who hasn’t been
very good at his job. The owner of the
business has finally had enough and one afternoon sends him an e-mail. Come to my office first thing tomorrow
morning. As soon as he reads this the
manager knows his goose is cooked. The
axe is about to fall. And he goes into a
panic. He’s got a mortgage, two kids in
college, a leased European sedan. He and
his wife already have their non-refundable tickets for a European spring
vacation, and they’re up to their eyeballs in credit card debt. Per
the bumper sticker: they’ve been
financing a lot of toys. What to
do? And then suddenly an idea hits
him. A brilliant stroke! He pulls the Accounts Receivable file and
calls a couple of his big customers and offers them major discounts on their
outstanding invoices. They’re delighted,
of course, they thank him profusely, and he is meanwhile crossing his fingers
that this newfound good will may open a few doors for him if he’s out pounding
the pavement and looking for a new job in the next month or so. The twist comes at the end of the story, when
the owner of the business goes online and sees what the manager has done. We expect him to be outraged—but quite the
contrary! The next morning comes, and
the manager is welcomed into the owner’s office not with a pink slip, but with
a smile and a handshake--and a promotion!
“That’s exactly the kind of outside-of-the-box thinking we need around
here to take our business to the next level,” the owner exclaims. “I’ve been looking to hire somebody who could
be a real game-changer around here, somebody who could think on his feet--and here
you are right under my nose. Somebody not
afraid to take risks, to push the edge of the envelope. The world is full of paper-pushers, but
you’ve really shown me something different.
You’re a guy with real potential, and I for sure don’t want you going
out to work for my competitors!”
In any case, what Jesus says here.
You know, there are an awful lot of people around here who have become
very successful in the “he who dies with
the most toys wins” economy. Like the characters in the story. They’ve got the game all figured out. Experts.
We expect to read about them both soon in the cover story of Business
Week or Barron’s. They know with crystal
clarity which Master they’re serving, and they’re good at it. And Jesus looks at the crowd, at his
disciples, at the Scribes and Pharisees.
“How about us? What would it be
like—just imagine!—if folks around here were to be as skillful in transactions
of grace and mercy and love as these guys are with dollars and cents! Turns out to be an uncomfortable moment yet
again for the Scribes and the Pharisees, and we’re going to see that really
come to a boil with next Sunday’s reading.
They’re supposed to be the ambassadors of God’s Kingdom in the midst of
God’s people, but apparently they’re much better known right now at the local
jewelry store’s Rolex desk than they
are, say, in the local soup kitchen or
food pantry. Apparently they know more
about how to make small talk at cocktail parties than they do about sitting and
praying with their neighbors in times of need.
So they’re getting fidgety.
Looking at this question is actually the deeper spiritual and theological
invitation of the ordinary year-to-year work of the parish “annual stewardship
campaign.” Or should be, anyway, when we
do it right, which I’m not sure we always do either here at St. Andrew’s or
most places in the wider church. But
what we would be doing, if we were doing it in a way that is shaped by
Scripture. Thinking about our lives in
terms of Stewardship for the New Economy.
The economy of heaven. And I
think our Vestry is leading into a very substantive conversation this year. I’m certainly looking forward to hearing my
good friend and colleague Adam Trambley when he joins us as keynote speaker at
the kickoff dinner on October 7. The
central point not about raising money to fund a church budget—although while we
live in this world budgets will always need to be funded. But the disciplines of tithing, of the
offering of first fruits our time, our talent, and our treasure, are more
importantly exercises to assist us in navigating the transition from one
economy to the other--to build up our spiritual character, to help us become
more and more acclimated to the economy of heaven.
Jesus isn’t talking about just tweaking the present system. You wouldn’t need a Cross for that. Just write a book, have your TED talk go
viral on social media. He’s talking instead
about something as old as the first hour of creation, yet for us now also so
radically different as to seem entirely new: an economy of grace-- where the
currency of compassion and forgiveness, humility and obedience, and joy and
generosity will begin to replace the gold and jewels and glittering prizes of
this world, a fragment of bread and a sip of wine a banquet far above any
earthly feast--working a deep change in us, to prepare us in heart and mind to
see and know and love and dwell forever the brightness and the beauty of the
City God has prepared for us in himself, in Jesus. Again the Collect for today:
“Grant us, O Lord, not to mind earthly things, but to love things
heavenly. And even now as we are placed
among things that are passing away, to cleave to those that shall abide.”
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