"Heavnonomics" given Sept. 18

Have you ever heard the story of the Sunday School teacher in Central Texas a generation or so ago? Her name was "Miss Lillian". Apparently in her local church, Miss Lillian taught a class made up exclusively of boys just on the verge of adolescence. That's a tough age to teach, especially when the class is all boys.

Miss Lillian must have been the sort of formidable Christian woman whose spirit and faith was up to just about any task. She would keep order, she would teach her topic for the week, and every Sunday she would close her class with the admonition, "Now boys, watch out for that demon rum." (Obviously she was a Methodist.)

One day, as it happened, the Sunday School lesson was the story of Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding feast at Cana of Galilee. Of course, one of the more smart-alecky boys gathered up his courage and actually asked the formidable Miss Lillian to justify her weekly warnings about demon rum in the light of the story of Jesus actually creating wine. Miss Lillian was nonplussed.

"I don't know how to explain it." She sniffed. "But I do knowI'd have a lot more respect for Him if He hadn't of done it."

This morning's Gospel Lesson is a lot like that. We read this Parable of the Unfaithful Steward and we just don't know quite what to make of it. We struggle to interpret it, to justify it, to explain it. But come right down to it, we'd have a lot more respect for Jesus if He hadn't of told it.

Consider. A crafty, scheming business manager works for someone described only as "a rich man". The steward has been involved in all sorts of unethical dealings with his employer's capital. Maybe he's been skimming profits. Maybe he's been investing on the side with the boss's money. Jesus doesn't say. What we do know, and what is worst of all, in the eyes of Jewish Law-- is that he has been lending out his employer's money at usurious interest rates.

One day, the rich employer gets an anonymous report of the steward's doings. (Probably from one of the dishonest manager's economic victims.) The boss confronts this unethical employee and fires him on the spot. Oddly enough, he then turns around and demands an audit, by the end of that business day.

Panicked into action, the crafty steward devises a method to mollify his employer and at the same time, ease into a possible future position. Taking the books out on his rounds, the manager meets with all the debtors and reduces their debt, in return for immediate pay-out. He does this presumably, by writing off his profits from loan sharking. Thus, he ensures good will, and even possible future employment with one of his boss's business associates. And best of all, by the end of the day he is able to present his out-going employer with a clean set of books.

Bible scholars believe that Jesus may actually have based this parable on a true-life scandal that his listeners were familiar with. Quite possibly, there was a shifty steward. Quite possibly Jesus' listeners knew his name, and knew the employer's name as well. If so, those in the audience were probably already one step ahead of Jesus in their minds.

They knew what conclusion this tale was winding toward-- a condemnation of the steward, and of the naive, absentee employer as well. You can almost sense them mentally licking their chops as Jesus drew to a close. "Later the estate owner actually commended the steward for his shrewdness... " And no doubt everyone held their breath, waiting for Jesus to kick in the punch line, the condemnation, the judgement. "He commended him for acting so shrewdly..... NOT!"

But Jesus didn't say NOT. He simply ended the parable. He left it at the commendation of the shifty steward. Jesus left us hanging, feeling a bit uneasy with such a lack of resolution. Later on, when Luke was recording the words and deeds of Jesus in his Gospel, he too, may have felt a tad uneasy with that ending. So, scholars believe, Luke tacked on some other, really unrelated teachings of Jesus' to the end of this story. Luke would have wanted to give the parable a straightforward, more satisfying ending. That of course, would allow all the Miss Lillians to have a bit more respect for Jesus and His teachings in thefuture.

If you read the Gospels, you can see that Jesus was never a great one for tacking on morals and explanations and handy interpretations to the end of His stories. Jesus much preferred to tell the parable, and abruptly end it. Jesus liked to leave his listeners hanging-- forcing them to come up with an ending to the story on their own-- leaving us to figure out what He was driving at. That's what Our Lord does in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, or the Great Feast, or the Lost Coin. Bible scholars call these "Parables of Reversal".

In all of these stories, Jesus reverses our expectations of how things are supposed to come out. He throws a curve at us. He goes against common sense or the way things are done. Our Lord's purpose is to make us think. Jesus wants us to stop and consider why, and what it is that we are expecting.

Why would a shepherd go off and leave ninety-nine sheep at risk in order to rescue one? Why would a Samaritan stop to help one of his ancient, despised enemies, lying wounded by the side of the road? You and I have to wrestle with these texts. We need to go over them in our minds and hearts in order to wring from them the meaning that lies within.

Why would a father forgive and embrace and reinstitute a son who has previously scorned him and all that he stood for? What will the resentful brother do? Go join the party? Or take off on his own? Why would the owner of the estate commend the dishonest steward, who gets out of trouble by compounding his lies and scheming?

A wretched, underhanded person abuses the trust placed in him, and embarrasses the one who trusted him. And yet in the end, this no-account ends up forgiven and reinstated. It's the same plot. So why do we love the Parable of the Prodigal Son, and have so much trouble with the Parable of the Dishonest Steward? To our Twenty first Century eyes, the two stories seem very different-- and the differences lie in the values that we assume they each embody.

We read the story of the dishonest steward, and we assume it is about something very sensitive and close to our hearts-- money, business life and dealings, and ethics. We read the story of the Prodigal Son, and we assume that it is about something else all together--family values.

Who wants to work for a boss who rewards embezzlers for their cleverness? None of us. Yet which of us would want to have a father who refuses to forgive a wayward son? None of us.

The truth is, these parables are about something more important than money. They are about something more important than business ethics, something even more important than family values. These parables are about relationships--establishing and maintaining right relationships between people.

In the Palestine of Jesus' time, the value of honor and respect in the community was as valuable and measurable as any coinage. The steward's dishonesty had endangered his employer's standing in the community. He had impugned his boss's reputation and ruined his good name. The estate owner had lost status-- both from the devious doings of his employee, and from the fact that he hadn't known what was going on until he was informed by outsiders.

So the rich estate-owner's ultimate concern was not really the profits the steward might or might not have been skimming. The employer certainly doesn't care about any profits lost from the cessation of the steward's loan-sharking operation-- they were illegitimate anyway. His vision went far beyond himself and his pocketbook.

Rather, he was far more interested in re-establishing his integrity in the eyes of the community. And in his own eyes. Thus, he first fires the steward for his dishonesty. Then, he turns around and trusts the steward with his books once more for the final audit. The owner knows very well that the crooked steward will do absolutely anything he has to in order to re-cook the books by end of business that day.

Why do such a fiscally foolish thing? The rich man isn't looking to balance his books. He's looking to repair the damage that the steward did-- in his name-- in the lives of other people. He's looking to recover his lost respect and refurbish his tattered reputation in the community. What was broken must be mended.

Thus, despite the steward's admittedly selfish motive in his own behind and greasing his way to a new job, it is the estate-owner who really gains in restored reputation and renewed good-will. The employer once more enjoys the respect of the community--his status, his righteousness has been restored.

The debtors no longer owe an unfair debt to the rich man. The out- of-control steward has been reigned in. Justice has been served. In the light of all this, the employer's praise of the steward for his shrewdness makes sense. Through quick thinking, the dishonest manager has managed to re-establish both himself and his former employer in the good graces of the community. And that wasso important that the employer was willing to swallow the financial losses involved in reinstating a right relationship between himself and his community.

Like the host in the parable of the Great Supper, a proper relationship with those poorer than himself is re-established at his own expense. Like the father in the parable of the Prodigal Son, broken relationships are mended and reconciliation is achieved-- at a price. And like both of them, the employer of the Dishonest Steward is glad to pay it. Why? Because it represents an investment in Christ's coming Reign.

The parable that Jesus is confronting us with this morning is not primarily a lesson about business ethics, or family values, or about this economic understanding versus that economic theory. The parable is ultimately about how you and I live in this world with one another, and with all of the other children of God. The parable is a clue, a glimpse, a hint of the nature of Christ's coming Realm of Shalom, of Justice and Peace and Plenty and Equity for all peoples.

It's not economics, it's Heaven-omics. And in it, wealth does not trickle down. In Heaven-omics, wealth is not spread by investment undertaken for the sake of gain. Prosperity is not redistributed by government fiat or by tax cuts, or investment packages or by lowering the prime rate.

In Heaven's economics, all that you and I might acquire through our dealings in this world, is not to seen as reward or security. Rather, wealth is to be seen solely in terms of possibility. And the possibility is to touch the lives of others and thus place ourselves in right relationship with our sisters and brothers in need-- and with our Maker.

When you and I subscribe to Jesus' understanding of the world --rather than that of Adam Smith, or John Maynard Keynes, or even Karl Marx-- we recognize that firstly, all that we have and all that we are comes to us from our Maker. And secondly, we recognize that we indeed, can't take it with us. So, we ask ourselves, how can we use what God has given us to pave the way for Christ's coming Realm. How can we use the gifts God has given us in ways that will empower and allow all people to live together in what Paul describes as a quiet peaceable life in all godliness and dignity?

Just as He confronted His original first Century listeners with this parable, Jesus confronts you and me today. How will we live? What is ultimately important to us? What is our relationship to the material things of this world? And to the poor? And to one another? And to our Creator? What do we live for? Each of us must finish the parable, answer the question, resolve the puzzle in our own heart.

Let us pray.

Make us faithful in small things, Lord Christ, that we may learn to be faithful in great things. May we commit ourselves to the economics of Heaven and not of earth. Amen