Confessing Evangelical

"There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was wasting his possessions. And he called him and said to him, 'What is this that I hear about you? Turn in the account of your management, for you can no longer be manager.'..."

1. A "problem parable"

The parable of the dishonest manager (Luke 16:1-9) was the Gospel reading last week (10th October), but our pastor chose to preach on the psalm for the day, Psalm 119:33-40. It was a good sermon, but he then found himself being buttonholed by several members of the congregation (including my wife) about why he'd not preached on the gospel passage, since this parable is one they've always found difficult, and they would have appreciated a sermon on it. So, "by the desire of the inhabitants", our pastor preached on the passage yesterday instead.

It's easy to see why this parable causes such consternation. Is Jesus really commending the behaviour of this dishonest manager as an example for Christians to follow? Even once you've satisfied yourself that this isn't the case, and that Jesus is instead teaching that Christians should be aware of the potential for using money for good, rather than being superspiritual and naive about its power (see vv.8,9), it's still difficult to see why it needs such a stark and shocking parable to drive that message home.

For all we can attempt to smooth out the rough edges, Jesus certainly sounds pretty positive about the manager's behaviour, and hearing it read out as the Gospel reading brought home with fresh force just how jarring a story this is. I was therefore greatly looking forward to our pastor's sermon yesterday.

2. Interpreting the parable

Our pastor began by looking at the cultural background against which Jesus told the parable (basing this on Ken Bailey's treatment of the parable in his book, Poet and Peasant, which our pastor described as the best book on the parables he's ever read).

A manager of the type described in this parable would have acted as the landowner's agent, with authority to negotiate and conclude contracts with the tenant farmers (the "debtors" in the story). The manager would have held and maintained books of account on behalf of the landowner. To understand the parable, we need to have these three figures in mind: the manager, the landowner, and the farmer/debtor, as well as the crucial issue of the manager's authority to act on behalf of the landowner (as a commercial lawyer, this was all music to my ears!).

Our pastor then analysed the parable as follows (again, freely acknowledging his debt to Ken Bailey; also, this is a summary of the argument rather than a transcript, and any defects are my responsibility rather than our pastor's):

1. Your boss accuses you of stealing from him, and demands to see the books so he can check the position. How do you respond?
   
   Answer: by protesting your innocence, whether truthfully or as a smokescreen to attempt to deflect the allegations. But the manager says nothing. He's accused of stealing, but is not reported as making any attempt to defend himself against the allegations. So, basically, as of that moment, he's fired. The landowner tells him to go and get the books.
   


2. Having caught you stealing, what would you expect your boss to do?
   
   Well, for starters, you'd expect him to fire your sorry behind (I paraphrase), which is indeed precisely what happens to the manager. But then you'd also expect either criminal or civil proceedings to punish you and/or recover the money. But that isn't what happens: the landowner simply requires the manager to hand back the books. This is a surprisingly merciful course of action.
   


3. Why do the farmers go along with the manager's scheme?
   
   This is a pretty crude fraud, and if the farmers were party to it they'd face being thrown into jail themselves. At the very least, they'd gain nothing because the landowner would simply reverse the changes.
   
   The fact is that, by being sent off to collect the books, the manager has been given a window of opportunity. As far as the debtors are concerned, the manager is still in position: even though his actual authority to act on behalf of the landowner has now ended, he still has "apparent authority" (to use the modern legal term). So the farmers are assuming that the landowner has unilaterally decided to reduce their debts. And who are they to argue?
   
   But the manager has to act fast ("sit down quickly...", v.6), since his ploy will only work so long as the debtors believe the manager still to be acting on the landowner's authority. In a small rural community, the manager probably has only a matter of a few hours in which to act.
   


4. Once the fraud comes to light, what is the landowner to do?
   
   Remember, the farmers believe that it is the landowner who has reduced their debt. They think all their Christmases have come at once, and they're busy celebrating their good fortune - and probably singing the landowner's praises to anyone who'll listen.
   
   The landowner has only two options. First, go to the still-partying farmers and rain on their parade, saying that it was all a terrible mistake, the manager was acting outside his authority, and the original debts still stand. Well within his rights, but not a pleasant course of action from anyone's point of view.
   
   The only other option the landowner has is to grit his teeth and swallow his losses. And that is what he decides to do. And so he commends the dishonest manager for his shrewdness, recognising that the manager - sly old dog - has put him in a cleft stick.
   


5. So why does the ploy work?
   
   This is the question that is easily overlooked. Why is the manager described as "shrewd"? Because he understands the landowner.
   
   The whole scheme was entirely dependent on the landowner accepting the illicit write-offs, rather than playing hardball with the farmers. If the landowner had insisted on the full debt being paid, that would have put the manager in an even worse position than he had feared: certainly no danger of being received into people's houses (v.4) after that.
   
   In other words, the manager had to bet on the landowner being merciful to the farmer/debtors. And what gave the manager such confidence that the landowner would show mercy to his debtors? His own merciful treatment at the hands of the landowner (see para 2, above).
   

So there we have it: the manager receives mercy from the landowner, and is then able to relate to other people on the assumption that the landowner will extend the same mercy to them. That is why he is commendably shrewd.

And that's the message to us from this parable: we have received mercy from our heavenly Father. We were facing ruin - eternal ruin - for our sin, left speechless by the Law's condemnation; but rather than demanding from us the debt we owed, God showed us mercy. In the same way, we can now relate to other people on the assumption that God will show them mercy, too. That's the "shrewd" way for Christians to act.

3. So what's all this got to do with money, then?

My hesitation about all this yesterday is that it didn't really seem to address the context of the parable in Luke 16, and in particular the question of how we use our money as Christians. In particular, our pastor did not address v.9 in his sermon, which seems to be pretty clearly linked with the message of the parable:

And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth [i.e. "mammon"], so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings.

But reflecting on it since, I think the answer (in part) is this: v.9 is not so much a summary of the parable's message, as an application of it.

Recall how the manager's behaviour was only "shrewd" because he acted in the light of his master's mercy. By analogy, the "shrewd" way for Christians to act is to assume that God will show the same mercy to those around you as He has shown to you.

How does that translate into how we use our money? Simple: we must recognise that money, while not righteous in itself ("unrighteous wealth"), can be used for the promotion of the Gospel. We are to spend our money on the assumption that God will show mercy to other people as He has to us.

Now, it's easy to do that in a rather "hair-shirt" way: deep down we know it's a bit of a waste of money, but giving money for the proclamation of the Gospel at least demonstrates our trust in God to provide for our own financial needs, and provides good training to wean us off our selfish acquisitiveness.

But this parable tells us something more than this, something we might otherwise have overlooked: giving money for the Gospel is a great investment, because God desires to show mercy to other people just as He has to us.

Betting on God's mercy is a "shrewd" spending decision. By using our money to promote the church's Gospel ministry, we will "make friends for ourselves" as people become Christians. These "friends", our fellow Christians, are then the people who are in a position to "receive [us] into the eternal dwellings".