Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost; 18 September 2022; Proper 20C (RCL); Jeremiah 8:18 – 9:1; Psalm 79:1-9; 1 Timothy 2:1-7; Luke 16:1-13.
The readings in Track 1 from Jeremiah over the course of these last weeks have just gotten bleaker and bleaker. It’s almost enough to make one choose Track 2 for Year C. Next week, the armies of the King of Babylon will be besieging the city, and the following week, we will read from Lamentations. And the week after, Jeremiah will tell the exiles in Babylon that God wants them to settle there, and increase rather than decrease, in other words, to accommodate to their exile.
To accept Jeremiah’s theology that God did this to God’s own people to punish them for their sins is to make of God a bloodthirsty and jealous deity. But, in the midst of political calamity, to ponder the question of how we might have done differently, or how we might mitigate the crisis, not just for ourselves but for others also, is never wasted effort, especially if we have been in the dominant role. Psalm 2 portrays Judah/Israel’s idea of itself as a conquering empire. Now, the shoe is on the other foot, and we can see what it is like to be conquered. It seems that question never arose until after the downfall of Jerusalem.
The parable in our Gospel reading is probably not intended to be read allegorically, but if we were to stretch it, we might see in the steward the role that Judah/Israel had claimed for itself as steward of God’s righteousness for the world, and by extension, even ourselves.
The parable is puzzling. Does his master really commend the dishonest steward, and if so, why? The size of the debts may give us some clues. The first debtor owes 1,000 gallons or so of olive oil — not a debt you incur by borrowing a cup here and there to back bread. The second debtor owes 40,000 liters of wheat, or more than 1,000 bushels. Again, not a debt you incur by borrowing a cup or two. These are tenant farmers, and the steward manages the property and the portion of the produce the tenants owe the master. And these debts are large enough that the master will likely never collect them.
By writing off a portion of the debts, while the tenants still think the steward is in the employ of the master, the steward makes his master look good. And even if it comes out that it was all a ruse, those tenants will be ever grateful to the steward. As he says, they will welcome him into their homes. Luke then has Jesus interpret the parable for his disciples (this parable is addressed to the disciples, not to the crowd). Make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest (or unrighteous) wealth, so that when it gives out, they will welcome you into the eternal tents.
We’ve heard Jesus tell the disciples (us) that we cannot be his disciples unless we give up all our possessions. Presumably, we are to give them to the poor. Evidently, it is they who live in the eternal tents. And Luke uses tents here instead of houses (into which the steward hoped to be welcomed). We are on a new Exodus, and they way to join that journey to the new promises is to make friends with unrighteous wealth.
And then Jesus turns the thing even further on its head; if you are not faithful in what belongs to another, who will entrust you with what is your own (all of the yous in this sentence are plural). We expect this sentence in the singular and the other way around; if you’re not faithful with what is your own, who will entrust you with what is theirs. The implication is that the things we possess now are not our own. How we handle those things will determine whether in the end we will receive what is our own.
The things we have now, to whom, then, do they belong? Ancient Christian teaching, and current Catholic social doctrine say they belong to the poor. We only hold them in trust, and must surrender them when needed. Imagine if a nation behaved that way, not only with its own citizens, but with all the world. We would be on the way to a very different world. The eternal tents are not permanent structures, but meant for a journey.