15th Sunday after Pentecost Sermon

I sometimes wonder if the folks who put the lectionary together used to serve on Stewardship committees, because I’m amazed how often the readings this time of year lend themselves to discussions about money and how we ought to regard it. But, maybe it’s not such a devious plot. Maybe it’s not even a coincidence. Perhaps it’s simply a question of statistics. After all, money was one of the most frequent topics that Jesus addressed. And it’s not that he was an economist or a socialist or a fiscal conservative. No. He was simply human – so of course he knew the power that money holds over the human heart. Jesus often taught on money because he knew that as humans, we are prone to fear. And when we are afraid we want to gather up whatever resources we can to protect ourselves.

Jesus was human, and he knew that the human heart is prone to selfishness and not to love. And it is prone to believing that we, as individuals, are alone and that “my stuff” belongs to me. No one else deserves it and I’ll be happiest spending it on myself and my family.

But Jesus came preaching the good news that the Kingdom of God is at hand. That, inasmuch as Jesus was present to his listeners, so was the Kingdom present – so was the substantial reality that we no longer need to be afraid and that we are no longer alone. He came to set us free – free from fear of all sorts. So, of course he teaches about money, and our freedom from hoarding it, because he loves us and wants us to be free of money’s false security and false joy.

Today’s parable is really quite extraordinary. Although it is commonly known as the “Parable of the Shrewd Manager,” it’s not, really, commonly known at all. I’ve never seen it in artwork. Few know it, because in it Jesus says some pretty shocking things, things that can make Jesus sound conniving and manipulative.

The story starts out with this lousy employee, a manager, who’s lazy, deceitful, and thieving. And he catches wind that his boss is on to him. So, before he gets fired, he uses his position to ingratiate himself to his boss’s debtors – he slashes all their debts to a fraction of what they were, thinking that they’ll be forced into taking care of him once he’s out of work. Clearly, he’s a scoundrel.

But here comes the shocking part. When the boss finds out what his manager has done, we’re all set to hear how he punishes him, or sends him to the everlasting fire where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. But no! I quote, “And his master commended the dishonest manager … because he had acted shrewdly.”

Then Jesus adds some commentary, “for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” What do you think about that?

Jesus points to the scoundrel and commends him for his shrewdness! Shrewdness?! “Shrewd” is what we say of hedge fund managers and politicians. Who ever heard someone say, “Oh, that Mother Teresa – Watch out for her; she’s a shrewd one”?

So what is Jesus saying?

He’s certainly not calling us to become dishonest, like the manager in the story. Really, I think the manager’s deceit is something of an attention grabber for Jesus – a little “shock value” for the listeners. The focus of the story isn’t on his unethical bookkeeping; it’s on his shrewdness. And “shrewdness” is not an exclusively pejorative term. A shrewd person is a thinking person, a prudent person, a person who is wise and deliberate.

And the deliberateness that Jesus is calling us to in this story is the way we use our money. If we are children of light, as he calls us here, it means we are free from all the darkness, the unholiness that is so frequently attached with money. We are free from selfishness, hoarding, exploitation, injustice. All these evils that so often go hand-in-hand with money are no longer our concerns. We are now free to be shrewd with our money – shrewd as children of the Kingdom of God – shrewd to bless and to love and, yes, to make friends, friends who – Jesus says – will welcome us into the eternal homes.

Be shrewd with your money. Find ways that you can be released from the status quo of our culture and begin to use your money for the purposes of the Kingdom of God. For then, you and your money both shall become a power for good, as is befitting the children of God.

But let us be clear on one point – being deliberate is not the same thing as being inauthentic. If we are deliberate about loving our neighbors, with the means at our disposal – chances are – it will result in friendship. And it will be genuine. If you deliberately think to yourself, “How can I love the widow next door?” there are good odds that it will involve spending a bit of money. Maybe she’s a bird lover – and you buy her a new bird feeder that the squirrels can’t get to. You may buy ingredients for a pound cake to make for her. And these things become the gateway that lead to friendship. Are you “making friends for yourself by means of dishonest wealth”? Absolutely. But is it disingenuous? No. It is simply shrewd. And this money, this dishonest wealth – to use Jesus’ term – can be translated into honest love. And the kingdom of God is made manifest.

St. John’s has recently announced its We Choose Love campaign – a plan, in this climate where so many feel fearful and powerlessness, in which we can be proactive in making tangible outcomes of love. Part of this plan is an encouragement for each of to choose our own “one big thing” – one thing we can commit to that will make a difference for good in this world, something we do repeatedly – every day, every week. It could well be that this parable of the shrewd manager is the impetus for you choosing your one big thing: Every week, say, you’re going to take $20 and bless somebody with it – you’ll be listening in conversations to hear something that triggers you to action – you hear somebody mention they love “The Cookie” from Met Market. So you go buy them one and deliver it to their house. Or you help a panhandler, generously, and then you talk to them as your neighbor, which they are. And you’re both blessed. Or you bake something really wonderful and bring it to work to share. Being “a shrewd manager” can be your big thing, and this world will be a better place. And you’ll feel more hopeful within it.

Each Wednesday a We Choose Love email is sent to the church. It always includes the story of one parishioner’s “one big thing.” As these stories of love accrue, it is like seeing a thousand tiny flashes of the Kingdom of God intruding into the drudgery of this world.

It’s like standing on a dock at night, and watching the moonlight reflect on a thousand ripples of water – a splendid choreography of nature giving glory to its creator. This is what these stories are like for us. And as our hearts smile in recognition of the power of love, we recognize that this is, in fact, the life to which we have been called. For all our money, all our possessions, all our lives belong to God. And, yes, we have the freedom to be selfish with them. But when we are, we sacrifice the freedom that has been given us to enter, with Jesus, into the Kingdom of God. We sacrifice the freedom and joy of entering into the fullness of our identity as children of light.

Everything we have been given is made holy and alive when it becomes an object of grace for those around us. For in giving we receive. In blessing, we are blessed. In pouring out, we are filled. We know this is true. But it is not easy.

In our culture, we spend far too much money on ourselves – on insubstantial things that give no deep pleasure, and then we sigh and lament that we have no disposable money to share with the church, or the poor, or the thousands of worthy charities – Christian and non – that are struggling to do the work of God in the world.

We have nothing to share, but our shelves are filled with books we do not read. Our homes are full of trinkets we ignore. We are possessed by a compulsion to possess. If we see something beautiful or desirable, we think we can only enjoy it if we possess it. That is a lie. A thing of beauty is dignified simply by its beholding, not by its being owned. A meal out, every week, can become a meal out – every other week – with someone who could not otherwise afford it. The price of a new couch can dig a well of fresh water in an African village.

This isn’t guilt. It is an invitation to the fullness of life in the Kingdom of God. For our Christianity is not an accessory. It’s not an ornament, to add “a little something” to our lives to make us feel a little better. It is our life. When our attention is reoriented to loving the world around us, with whatever is at our disposal, we become as Christ – and the “you” you discover yourself becoming is the “you” that you have been craving to know and be your entire life. How much deeper our pleasure becomes when we turn our eyes to the longings in the world around us, and give of our resources to meet those longings.

It will no longer do to maximize our own interests unless we place those interests in the context of what is good for our neighbor.

And this is not something we must struggle to grow into alone. This is our work together. And when we do this – we at St. John’s, the Diocese of Olympia, the Episcopal Church, the one holy, catholic, and apostolic church – when we do this, then the world will know there is a God in heaven who loves them, and that his body – the church – is truly an authentic embodiment of his son, Jesus Christ, who is their friend, their God, and their redeemer. Amen.