Holy Squandering– Luke 16:1-13
A saviour without safety, a tradesman without tools
has come to tip the balance with fishermen and fools.
I think we all feel a little foolish trying to make sense of today’s reading – the parable of the dishonest manager. What is Jesus saying to his disciples here? To us? That honesty is not actually the best policy? That crime – might actually – pay?
As Jeanette mentioned last week, “we should…keep in mind that parables were often told to shock those who were listening! They were stories aiming to turn the world upside down!” So, the answer is, in this case, yes! The fool with money is, in verse 8, commended for being wise. The dishonest manager does honest-to-goodness good. The man charged with squandering squanders in such a way that he evokes the breaking in of God’s kingdom and the grace of God Godself!
Because what I think this section of Luke is saying – in this story and the story of the prodigal before it (prodigal is, after all, a synonym for squandering) and the story of the rich man and Lazarus after it – is that there is squandering and then there is squandering!
If by squandering, we mean that money is being wasted in a foolish and reckless manner then, in my reading, that is what is probably taking place. Some commentators argue the manager is not actually abusing funds in the story. That all we have are charges laid against him – which may be false. This seems unlikely to me. There are also commentaries which delve into the economics of Roman occupied Galilee in the first century. These point out that, in violation of Jewish covenant law, rich overlords used exorbitant rates of interest to force people off their lands, to create a landless labouring class. Managers, like this one, were middlemen. They served those above them by extorting those below them, and, like the tax collectors, they took their own cut, further gouging the poor or stealing from their masters.
Which is where I think we locate the man in our story. And he had not been very subtle about it! His squandering of his master’s property, like the prodigal squandering his property in dissolute living (Luke 15: 13) or the rich man dressing extravagantly and feasting sumptuously (Luke 16:19), had been noticed. “You’re fired,” said the rich man, “You have till tomorrow to turn in the books.”
If this were a simple morality tale, this is where the story would end. The manager’s squandering, his conspicuous consumption (we are very quick, aren’t we, to judge conspicuous consumption), his acquiring of dishonest wealth has been found out and now he will be punished. Christians are typically very comfortable with this kind of morality tale.
There’s a fifth century story about Bishop Nonnus who while attending a council of bishops in Antioch saw that city’s foremost actress and harlot, Pelagia, coming towards them with her entourage. She was perfumed and, “immodestly bareheaded”, we’re told, the outlines of her body were “clearly visible” beneath her gold cloth, pearls, and precious stones. The clergy made a point of looking away, but Nonnus stared openly, and then turned to the others and said, “Were you not delighted by such great beauty?” When they did not reply, he buried his face in the holy Bible and began to cry. “Were you not delighted by her great beauty?” Still the others did not answer and he signed deeply. “I was very greatly delighted and her beauty pleased me very much….What do you think, beloved brothers, how many hours does this woman spend in her chamber giving all her mind and attention to adorning herself for the play, in order to lack nothing in beauty and adornment…; she wants to please all those who see her, lest those who are her lovers today find her ugly and do not come back tomorrow. Here are we, who have an almighty Father in heaven offering us heavenly gifts and rewards, … why do we not adorn ourselves and wash the dirt from our unhappy souls, why do we let ourselves lie so neglected?”
The story doesn’t end there. Pelagia came to hear him preach that Sunday and sent a message asking him to receive her and hear her confession. He said, “Only in the presence of other bishops!” So, she came to the church, but when he told her to promise never to return to her former life, she fell to the ground and threatened that if she was refused admission to the Church, all her future sins would be held against him at his judgment. He made a hasty decision to baptise her.
Three days later it is said she gave all her possession to Nonnus to distribute to the widows, orphans, and poor of the city. She freed her slaves, and then she disappeared.
Years later, the author of the story, Deacon James, was travelling to the Holy Land and asked Nonnus what he should see there. Nonnus told him to visit the holy hermit Pelagius living in a hut on the Mount of Olives. He did and found the conversation enlightening, though the hermit wouldn’t come out to see him. On his second visit he found Pelagius had died, and people were coming from far and wide to grieve for the holy man. However (although the story was hushed up James says) when preparing the body for burial it was discovered that Pelagius was Pelagia, he was a she – Saint Pelagia the Harlot!
There’s a twist in the parable too because the story doesn’t end with the squandering steward being punished. In verse three, he thinks on his feet. “I’m not strong enough to dig,” he says. He’s not being a wuss; he’s realistically assessing his age and abilities in the current labour market. “And I am ashamed to beg…. What am I good at?” In a world without social security another form of social security must be found, and so he uses his skills, his skills of squandering money, to create, in verses 5 to 7, not financial debts, but debts of gratitude. As he says, “When I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.”
This is the same kind of foolish and reckless squandering we see when the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine in the wilderness to go after the one, as Jeanette commented last week, or the woman throws a big party to celebrate finding her lost silver coin and spends most of it in the process, or the father runs to embrace and kiss his lost son, dressing him in fine roles and a ring and sandals and hosting a great celebration to welcome him back. Who is the real prodigal here? Is it the parable of the prodigal son or the prodigal father?
And this is the same kind of foolish and reckless squandering that we see at the very beginning of Luke, in the song that Mary sings, where the proud are scattered (it is the same word that is translated ‘squandered’), where the powerful are brought down from their thrones, where the lowly are lifted up and the hungry are filled with good things.
This foolish and reckless squandering, the parable says, is turning the world upside down. It is a new economy where money isn’t squirreled away – by good people or bad people – if we can distinguish between them which the parable challenges us to do – but squandered, scattered, shared. Ini is a new economy where the manager – like the Jew lying half-dead on the road to Jericho, like the rich man appealing to the beggar Lazarus – discovers that help and resources don’t trickle down but trickle up! Where they discover, as commentor Greg Carey says, their help lies – not above them – but below them on the social ladder. It is a new economy, God’s new economy, where resources are shared and where we welcome people into our homes, a verse that is repeated twice in the passage.
Which is why we have this even stranger ending to this strange parable, “And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly (or wisely) for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” We are urged – irrespective of our motivations – if we are children of light – to become part of this new economy.
Last week I had the tremendous privilege of being part of the Micah Women Leaders Delegation to Parliament. There were around 40 of us and we had 48 meetings with politicians from all sides of politics drawing their attention to the global hunger crisis unfolding in African and the Middle East.
On the morning of the Wednesday, we had a breakfast meeting with Minister Pat Conroy, Minister for Defence Industry and Minister for International Development and the Pacific, and he stated the many, very logical reasons for supporting international development: “There is a security case for aid. The grinding poverty we see in many parts of the world can contribute to social tensions, instability and radicalisation…. There is the economic case for aid. Supporting economic prosperity abroad supports economic prosperity at home…. There is the international relations case for aid. Development assistance is a key component in Australia’s foreign policy toolkit…. [All these things] demonstrate that providing foreign aid advances Australia’s national interest. But there is another important reason to help the world’s poorest people – and that’s because it is the right thing to do…. Supporting fellow human beings is the right thing to do…. [This} is the most compelling of the cases for foreign aid.”
The master commended his steward for acting shrewdly. There are shrewd reasons for being generous, shrewd reasons for squandering money on the poor, but it is also just the right thing to do. It is turning the world upside down – or turning it right side up!
It is a strange parable, isn’t it? It is followed by a series of teachings on money, some of which seem related to the parable and some not; make friends with dishonest wealth; if you are faithful with very little you will also be faithful in much; and you cannot serve both God and Mammon. But if I was to add another one – or sum these up – it is that there is something of the Kingdom of God, and of the nature of God, found in us when we are foolish and reckless squanderers of money, of resources, of generosity and grace.