Once I heard a story about a corrupt politician in the 1920’s named John A. McCarthy. He was known as “Fishhooks” McCarthy. He lived and worked on the Lower East Side in New York. Every morning he would faithfully stop at St. James Church on Oliver Street to say his prayers. His same prayer each day was this: “O Lord, give me health and strength. We’ll steal the rest.”
Fishhooks sounds like one of those people you shouldn’t trust with anything you care about, but who was probably almost impossible to dislike. He is remembered as a Robin Hood character, using his own comfort with graft and routine political corruption to redistribute money to his unemployed and working-poor constituents.
It seems like we meet him this morning in a strange parable told by Jesus.
Have you met him elsewhere? Maybe you’ve had a co-worker like this, or a colorful uncle. The Crook with a Heart of Gold: it is a common trope in literature and film. We might root for him in spite of our better judgment.
But this time, as we try to open up this parable and find the treasures inside, let’s not try to work out who the dishonest manager represents, as if he is us, or he is this or that politician or businessman we know, and his master is God. This parable won’t reveal its secrets that way. Jesus is just setting the scene for us, drawing a quick sketch of the Greek and Judean world he and his followers (and his rivals) live in—their world of unjust economic realities, a complicated world that rewards shrewd manipulators, particularly those who have a certain disregard for the rules.
That is to say, a world, in a few important ways, much like our own.
The dishonest manager squandered his master’s wealth, and the Greek word Luke uses for “squandered” is the same one he just used a chapter before, in the parable of the prodigal son, who squandered his family inheritance. Both characters use other people’s money unwisely. But this time, we don’t have a joyful reunion with forgiveness and celebration to look forward to. The dishonest manager wins his master’s respect, but we might find the whole parable confusing, with a strange, even unsatisfying ending. After all, to get himself out of his jam, and to win the commendation of his master, he squanders more of his master’s wealth! And Jesus seems to be praising dishonesty. That doesn’t sound like the Jesus we know.
Or does it? Who is Jesus? What do we know about our Lord?
We have simple but compelling images of him: he is the sweet shepherd rejoicing with a lamb on his shoulders; he is the loving son on the cross, making provisions for his mother just before he dies; he is the generous, selfless one on the cross who prays for his enemies’ forgiveness; he embraces children; he weeps for his dead friend; he gently rebukes Martha; he quietly says the name “Mary” in the resurrection garden, and she recognizes him…
But today, Jesus also seems wily, world-wise. Our Lord and Savior seems almost jaded, even cynical. We might be tempted to throw out this story altogether, since it seems to cast Jesus in a strange light, and it doesn’t seem to line up with what we think we know about Jesus, or about Christian community. Do we want our parish treasurer to behave this way? Do we want to teach our children to be like the dishonest manager? None of this seems to fit. It doesn’t feel right.
But if we hold still and spend a little more time with him, we will see Jesus a little more clearly. We will be able to appreciate that while he is thoroughly and completely good, he is not naïve. While he is our loving teacher and a beloved friend of sinners, he is not a fool. He is not teaching us to be dishonest, but he does want us to be sharp, to navigate this world with our eyes open.
After all, I am sure you have noticed that this world—our world—is not exactly the kingdom of God on earth. If you are raising children in this world, you know what your kids are up against. It’s your job to protect them from harm, and to teach them how to take care of themselves. You want them to have strong values, to know right from wrong, to be loving and giving with others, to be their best selves. But you also want them to be clever, right? You want them to be a little savvy. If we are going to live out our faith in this world—in the real world—we will have to be world-wise.
If we take up a cause for justice—economic justice, or environmental justice, or a political cause of any kind—then strategy matters. Even in our own affairs here at church, we pray for guidance and strength, but we also plan carefully, eyes open. We are in the process of searching for a new priest, and we want that person to be a faithful shepherd, a faithful friend, a spiritual leader and teacher who will inspire us and lead us. And… we want that person to be in the know. We want someone who can be shrewd.
When we rest for a little while in the presence of Jesus and hear him tell us this strange story of the dishonest manager, we might finally notice one more thing about this story, something that we might not have noticed before: he is telling it to his friends, but also within earshot of his enemies. He is on the road to Jerusalem, and he is drawing the attention of friends and foes alike. His movement is appealing to some, repellent to others. Jesus is good; he is even Goodness itself. But not everyone sees him that way, and what’s more, his message is going to come at a cost to those in his world and in ours who have something to lose. Luke is clear about this, again and again: as Mary sang in the opening chapters of Luke’s Gospel, God is sending the rich empty away. God is scattering the proud, lifting up the lowly, filling the poor with good things. And this may be as hard to hear, for some of us, as it is to imagine Jesus as savvy and world-wise.
But that is the challenge of the Gospel, for us. We are not called to preach a prosperity Gospel, a message of easy reassurance to those who have much, that if they are faithful to Jesus, their wealth will only increase. We are called to relax our anxious grip on wealth and possessions. We are challenged to share in common the abundant gifts of God. We are baptized to be good stewards of all that we have been given: or good managers, to use the language of today’s parable. Faithful and forgiving, skillful and shrewd, generous and glad. Faithful and forgiving, skillful and shrewd, generous and glad: This is our calling.
The more we spend time with Jesus, the more we see in him. Sometimes he may not only surprise us, he may upset us. He is not only kind and loving; he is also a challenging prophet, the challenging prophet. He is not only telling us to love others as we love ourselves, he is also challenging us to be painfully self-giving, to put the kingdom of God above our own little kingdoms of possessions and commitments. This can be unsettling, even upsetting.
But in all of this, in all the gifts and all the challenges of following Jesus, in all of this we have each other. We find Jesus not just in the face of an icon or in the gleam of a stained-glass window; we find him in the face of our neighbor, in the faces of each other. In a few moments we will be invited to share the peace with one another, and it may seem like a mild, casual thing to do, a quick handshake or hug, a mumbled word of peace to the people around us in the pews. But the sharing of peace is much more important than that. When we share the peace with one another, we encounter Christ himself. He is here. Right next to you, right behind you, right in front of you. Jesus gives us just a few things to know who he is, to recognize him in the here and now, and to equip us with all we need to serve him. He gives us water for washing, a book for hearing the Word, bread and wine for nourishment, and … each other. That’s it.
So when you extend your hand in a greeting of peace, know that you are embracing all you need to serve Christ and participate in the dawning of his kingdom. Know that when you are serving your neighbor, you are serving Christ himself.
In all of this hard work of ministry, we pray to God sincerely for health and strength.
And we’ll steal the rest.
***
Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Psalm 79:1-9
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Luke 16:1-13
Preached at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Burke, Virginia, Proper 20C, September 22, 2019.