Say it ain't so!
Commentary
The year was 1919, and it was the beginning of the first World Series after the "War to end all wars." There was so much excitement leading up to what baseball fans call "the Fall Classic," that the normally best-of-seven-game series had been expanded to a best-of-nine "spectacular." The Cincinnati Reds made their first World Series appearance that year, against the heavily-favored Chicago White Sox who were led by one of the greatest batters in the history of the sport, "Shoeless" Joe Jackson. With all the hoopla and hype, things got off to an inauspicious beginning, as Chicago pitcher Eddie Cicotte hit the first Reds' batter of the series with a pitch.
But that seemingly errant pitch was not the result of nervous jitters; rather, it was a prearranged signal to gamblers that the fix was on. Eight members of what was to become known as the Chicago "Black Sox" team -- including "Shoeless" Joe Jackson -- had conspired to deliberately lose the series. When the scam was revealed the following year, Jackson and his co-conspirators were arrested. It was reported that as Jackson left the courthouse after his arraignment that a little boy looked up at him and plaintively said, "Say it ain't so, Joe." Although Jackson later denied the episode ever happened -- as well as denying his involvement in the scheme to which he had once confessed -- the little boy's plea passed into the language of American popular culture. The now clich ©d response to any news that seems too awful to contemplate is: "Say it ain't so."
Upon hearing that Jesus once commended the actions of a "dishonest manager" and exhorted his own disciples to follow that manager's example by "mak[ing] friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth," our first reaction must be, "Say it ain't so." But there it is, right in our Gospel Reading. Jesus concocts a story regarding a steward about to be fired amid accusations of embezzlement who ingratiates himself to his boss's debtors by "cooking the books" through arbitrary reductions in the total amount they owe. Not only does the boss in the story "commend the dishonest manager because he acted shrewdly," but Jesus himself holds up the manager as proof that "the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light." -- Say it ain't so!
Jeremiah 8:18--9:1
The first reading in the lectionary presents most of a lament poem (Jeremiah 8:18--9:3) penned by the prophet in the aftermath of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem. There is not enough evidence within the lament to place it clearly either in the decade between the first siege and deportation in 597 B.C. and the second siege of the city in 587, or after the final fall of Jerusalem and extension of the exile with that second siege. The appeal to the presumed presence of healing balms and physicians who might be hoped to restore the people to health (8:22) may give slight favor to the interim period. Jeremiah counseled that accepting the "yoke of the Babylonians" during that time was a way to stave off further destruction (chs. 27-28), but his counsel was rejected (cf. 9:2-3).
There are apparently three different speakers within this lament. It opens with the words of the prophet (8:18-19a), who quickly turns to quote "the cry of my poor people." This cry, recounted in 8:19b-20, is apparently interrupted by a rhetorical question from God in 8:19c (placed within parentheses in the NRSV) as a response to their initial question of whether the Lord had deserted Zion. God's response would indicate both that the Lord had indeed deserted the city and that the reason for this action was the people's provocative act of worshiping foreign deities. The prophet returns to speaking in his own voice at 8:21 through the end of the lament.
Within the portion of the lament included in the lectionary reading, the prophet's lament is solely in response to "the hurt of my poor people" (8:21). He is at a loss to explain why the people continue to suffer when healing agents are available to them (8:22). His mourning has left him completely spent, and he wishes to find the personal resources to continue his intercessions on their behalf. In the final two verses not included in the lectionary reading, the prophet turns to complaints regarding the treatment he is receiving from the people.
The prophet, then, is also overwhelmed with a sense of "Say it ain't so," but the reasons are quite different from those that prompt such a response to Jesus' parable. The prophet is struck to a point of disbelief that the usual means to restoration seem to have failed. God has deserted the people, the usual means of healing are nowhere to be found, and even mourning and repentance have proven apparently ineffective. Although not absent from Jeremiah's message on the whole, within the confines of this lament both the prophet and the people remain almost totally bereft of hope. They still cling to the belief of a "balm in Gilead" and physicians there who might restore them, but there is no present evidence to support that belief.
1 Timothy 2:1-7
One of the arguments against the Pastoral Epistles as authentic writings of Paul is the differing attitude toward the broader world in these letters as compared to his uncontested works. In the Corinthian letters and 1 Thessalonians, for example, Paul's ethic is driven and determined by a sense that Christ will return at any moment and that one's relationship with both family and society must be constructed on that basis. This passage from 1 Timothy reflects a completely different outlook.
What is envisioned in this call to prayer is a protracted period in which the church and civil society must find a peaceful coexistence. The Christian community is to intercede on behalf of "kings and all who are in high positions" not so that the society will be ordered in accord with God's wisdom, but so that the church "may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity" (2:2). The final goal of a world transformed in accord with God's justice remains (God "desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth"), but the means to accomplishing this end seems to owe more to the long-term influence of the church's "peaceable life ... godliness and dignity" rather than an imminent, apocalyptic return of Christ.
The reason such an attitude toward civil authorities and the society generally may be advocated is because "there is one God" who is being reconciled to humanity through the mediatorial work of Christ Jesus. God is Lord over the world and not just the church, but the strategy for affecting that lordship is through the creation of favorable conditions for the church, not the overthrow of the world. When the governing authorities provide such peace and quiet, they are entitled not only to supplications but also thanksgiving to be made to God on their behalf.
Whether or not one concludes that such views of coexistence between the church and society could have been held by Paul himself, what cannot be contested is that the strategy for the church has shifted from "being in the world but not of it while awaiting deliverance" to "being in the world as a means of quiet and peaceable transformation of it." Clearly it is this latter strategy that has prevailed in the mainline church of the modern period. The challenge inherent in this strategy, however, is to keep the primary and ultimate goal on transformation of the society rather than the preconditions of peace and quiet with it.
Luke 16:1-13
Convinced that Jesus would not in any way endorse such behavior as that by the "dishonest manager," commentators through the centuries have sought ways to justify the manager's actions. It has been suggested that the manager was only presumed to be dishonest, both in the circumstances that led up to his dismissal and in his actions after he received the news. After all, his boss seems to be responding to rumors and innuendo about "squandered property" when he asks the manager, "What is this that I hear about you?" and then asks for an accounting. Maybe the reductions in the total debt amounts were accomplished by the manager's decision to forego his own commissions in exchange for future benevolence, so he had never really caused any financial loss to his boss. Or maybe the manager knew the debts included unlawfully high interest, and he simply denied his boss what would have been illegal or immoral capital gains. Such explanations are clever -- maybe we could even say "shrewd" -- but they don't come from the details of Jesus' parable. The evidence there shows the manager offers no defense, resists the notion of finding new honest work, and is explicitly called "dishonest" by Jesus in the telling of the story. No, it does not appear possible to explain away the scandal of the manager's actions.
Other commentators have suggested that the details of the story are so troubling, that we cannot possibly understand correctly what Jesus is trying to tell us if the parable remains the focus of our attention. The key, they believe, lies in what Jesus says after the parable. In Luke 16:9-10, it is reported that Jesus followed the telling of this story with admonitions to be faithful with the material possessions God has entrusted to us. "If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth" -- your material belongings -- "who will entrust to you the true riches" of the spiritual life and eternity? Jesus' point, as Fred Craddock (Luke [Interpretation] pp. 190-191) has put it, would be that "[l]ike the steward in the parable, [one should] use possessions so as to gain, not lose, one's future ... [F]or all the dangers in possessions, it is possible to manage goods in ways appropriate to life in the kingdom of God." The point of the parable in this view, then, is potentially obscured by its details. What Jesus really wants us to learn from this is that if the "children of this age" are shrewd enough to use material goods to secure their future retirement, then the children of light should be shrewd enough to use their possessions to secure eternal life. Presumably the means for gaining these spiritual rewards are not dishonest or deceitful business practices, but rather faithfully using what God has entrusted to us for the benefit of others.
Yet other commentators have suggested, however, that Jesus tells this story in all its troubling details precisely so as to trip us up. The ambiguity about the truthfulness of the initial "charges" against the manager and the boss' decision to fire him without an investigation, are to lead us to side with the manager. We cheer on the underdog manager who fights against his unjust boss by duping him in a roguish scheme. Everything seems fine until we realize, as Bernard Brandon Scott (Hear Then the Parable [Fortress], pp. 264-266) has observed, "the comedy has a barbed end: the action was unjust. The story ends by leaving the hearer in an uncomfortable position. The hearer has supported immorality by sanctioning the rogue's deceiving the master." The key to Jesus' parable, then, would lie in the fact that the boss himself ultimately commends the manager's actions. "The master in the end demands from a hearer a price -- the admission that the action was unjust -- and at the same time forfeits his power ... [T]he parable breaks the bond between power and justice. Instead it equates justice and vulnerability ... The kingdom is for the vulnerable, for masters and stewards who do not get even."
Scott's suggestion that the parable boils down to the truth that God's kingdom is ultimately for those "who do not get even" is not far removed from yet another dimension of meaning: The realization that the law is not going to save you. Whatever else might be said about the manager's actions, it was clear that he was not relying on a legalistic defense of his past actions to secure his welcome in other peoples' homes. Maybe instead of focusing on the particulars of the manager's actions, we should instead emphasize the response of his rich boss. His actions of providing opportunity for a final accounting rather than immediately having the manager thrown into prison and of commending the manager's "shrewd" plan rather than having him condemned for it can be seen as reminders of God's gracious forbearance with each of us.
Application
Parables are often like verbal Rorschach tests; what you see in them tells a lot about who you are and what is going on around you. I imagine a few are, by this point, feeling that I have brought many more inkblots into view regarding the Gospel Lesson appointed for this Sunday rather than making clarifications. Perhaps that is to be expected since parables are stories rooted in life, and life never neatly distinguishes between "good guys" and "bad guys." Many people are looking for simplistic "either ... or" answers to life. They can only respond to Jesus' acknowledgement of such messiness in life, where heroes like "Shoeless" Joe Jackson are also villains, by exclaiming, "Say it ain't so!"
We used to be able to at least count on our entertainments to neatly distinguish the good guys by their white hats and the bad guys with black ones, but not any longer. The latest Vin Diesel action-film, The Chronicles of Riddick, was promoted with the line, "Sometimes the only way to stop evil is not with good; you must confront it with another kind of evil." Even our science fiction epics no longer pit good against evil, but only one kind of evil that serves our enemies with another kind that (we hope) will serve us. No doubt there will be some who will find in Jesus' parable further support for acting in the world in precisely this manner.
Yet, while Jesus' parable may give a knowing nod to the moral ambiguity of our world, it does not give it an endorsement. It is, after all, the master who commends the dishonest manager, and the gospel does not report that Jesus allegorized the master's commendation into divine approval. That doesn't mean, however, that the gospel provides a single, unambiguous interpretation of the parable. At one level, the parable may be about the need to dispense with naivet © and act shrewdly within a corrupt world (16:8b). At another level, it may advise committing our financial resources to purposes of eternal value (16:9). In still other ways, it counsels against the improper stewardship that landed the dishonest manager in such a fix in the first place (16:10-12). Finally, it demonstrates the need of total commitment rather than divided allegiance since no one can serve two masters (16:13).
Perhaps rather than trying to flatten the interpretation of the parable into one of these truths for the purposes of the sermon, the preacher should instead concede, and even embrace the moral complexity of both the parable and the world. The secular world is sophisticated and shrewd enough to recognize that life is too messy for a simplistic view of things. But, rather than conceding a worldview that answers evil with another kind of evil, the parable invites us to see the complexity of the world as an opportunity to find multiple ways to respond to that messiness that builds a just future.
To the degree that this parable depends on the moral ambiguity of our world, it reminds us of the scandalous truth that even in the actions of a "dishonest manager" God speaks to us about the mysteries of the kingdom and the wonders of divine grace. Just as Jesus used this parable to teach his disciples, so God will continue to speak to us in these ethically confused times to instruct us not only about our society but also about ourselves as individuals.
Alternative Applications
1) Jeremiah 8:18--9:1; Luke 16:1-13. Three years after 9/11 with the continuing loss in a sense of personal and international security, many people simply cannot believe that the world has come to such a place. Has God completely abandoned us because of our failings? Where is there any ground for hope and healing in our world? Are we compelled to adopt the shrewdness and ethically disreputable tactics of a corrupt world simply to survive? Both Jeremiah and Jesus call on us to hold on to our belief that there is indeed a "balm in Gilead" and a "physician there" in our God who acts with undeserved grace. If amid the horrors and abuses of slavery, African-American Christians could compose and sing the spiritual affirming that there is indeed "a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole," then even in the midst of our current uncertainty we, too, can hold on to that faith.
2) 1 Timothy 2:1-7. With the fast approach of the 2004 general elections in the United States, it is likely that congregations will be trying to find the point of balance between responsibilities as citizens of the state and people of the realm of God. From the distribution of conservative voter guides to the presence of politicians campaigning from pulpits in African-American churches, some congregations will call for active engagement in the political process whether their particular political agendas are positioned more to the right or the left. Other churches will argue for a strict separation between church and state, while yet others will call for a studied indifference while awaiting an apocalyptic intervention from God. Only the last of those approaches seems undercut by this lectionary reading, but all of them need to be reminded by this epistle that even at its best the state can only provide conditions conducive to the church's mission. We pray for those in authority not so that they will transform society for us, but so that the church may freely act, empowered by the Spirit, to further Christ's reconciling ministry.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 79:1-9
This poignant prayer of lament and community grief gives expression to what it feels like to suffer as a person of faith. If we believe that we are truly part of God's community, then the destruction of that community, as was the case with Israel in 587 B.C., becomes a time for doubt, anger, and confusion. Furthermore, if we believe that we are individual members of that community, our personal suffering also creates an opportunity for a crisis of faith. Why didn't God protect me? Of course it does not take a national catastrophe to raise those sorts of questions. The cancer wards and surgical suites of hospitals are often settings for prayers of lament.
Once we start asking the question, it's hard to stop. What exactly is going on when we suffer, either as a nation or a community or as individuals? The psalmist assumes, as does the prophetic tradition associated with the exile, that the suffering of Israel was punishment. Israel sinned against God and God's covenant. Israel became unfaithful. Israel forgot the widow and the orphan. For these sins, God sent them into exile.
But for how long? Is the sin so great that the relationship is ended forever? Is it exile or is it abandonment? The people of Israel surely had moments when they wondered if God had forgotten them.
The psalmist gives eloquent voice to all this, and more. But there is in this psalm an allusion to another fear, a fear that is perhaps greater than the fear that because of their sin God would abandon the people of Israel forever. The psalmist hints that there are some who might wonder if God is really up to the task of protecting God's people.
The psalmist writes, "We have become a taunt to our neighbors" (v. 4). What is it that is taunted? Are these tormentors suggesting that the God of Israel is a weak God, an inept God?
As the taunts ring out, those who are suffering might become aware of their own concern. Maybe this started out as punishment, but what if God can't call it off? God allowed the "nations" to swoop down upon the holy city, but is God capable of turning them back? Does the pain of an extended exile coupled with the pain of Jerusalem's defeat really suggest that God can be defeated?
In defiance of this fear, the psalmist directs his prayer to the very heart of God's character. "Help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of your name" (v. 9). The psalmist challenges God to honor the covenant even though God's people did not. The psalmist calls on God to vindicate God's reputation in the world by restoring the people of Israel to their place of privilege even though it was through their own carelessness it was lost.
There is therapeutic value in giving voice to our pain and our fears. It's pretty easy to confess, "I am suffering because I deserve it." It's a bit harder to say, "I'm suffering and I don't know why God is allowing it; why God won't stop it; why it goes on and on."
By calling on God to vindicate God's own reputation, the psalmist offers a profound way to reintroduce hope to a community that may well have been on the brink of losing hope, and maybe losing faith. Even if we don't deserve to be saved, God will save us anyway because that's who God is.
But that seemingly errant pitch was not the result of nervous jitters; rather, it was a prearranged signal to gamblers that the fix was on. Eight members of what was to become known as the Chicago "Black Sox" team -- including "Shoeless" Joe Jackson -- had conspired to deliberately lose the series. When the scam was revealed the following year, Jackson and his co-conspirators were arrested. It was reported that as Jackson left the courthouse after his arraignment that a little boy looked up at him and plaintively said, "Say it ain't so, Joe." Although Jackson later denied the episode ever happened -- as well as denying his involvement in the scheme to which he had once confessed -- the little boy's plea passed into the language of American popular culture. The now clich ©d response to any news that seems too awful to contemplate is: "Say it ain't so."
Upon hearing that Jesus once commended the actions of a "dishonest manager" and exhorted his own disciples to follow that manager's example by "mak[ing] friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth," our first reaction must be, "Say it ain't so." But there it is, right in our Gospel Reading. Jesus concocts a story regarding a steward about to be fired amid accusations of embezzlement who ingratiates himself to his boss's debtors by "cooking the books" through arbitrary reductions in the total amount they owe. Not only does the boss in the story "commend the dishonest manager because he acted shrewdly," but Jesus himself holds up the manager as proof that "the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light." -- Say it ain't so!
Jeremiah 8:18--9:1
The first reading in the lectionary presents most of a lament poem (Jeremiah 8:18--9:3) penned by the prophet in the aftermath of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem. There is not enough evidence within the lament to place it clearly either in the decade between the first siege and deportation in 597 B.C. and the second siege of the city in 587, or after the final fall of Jerusalem and extension of the exile with that second siege. The appeal to the presumed presence of healing balms and physicians who might be hoped to restore the people to health (8:22) may give slight favor to the interim period. Jeremiah counseled that accepting the "yoke of the Babylonians" during that time was a way to stave off further destruction (chs. 27-28), but his counsel was rejected (cf. 9:2-3).
There are apparently three different speakers within this lament. It opens with the words of the prophet (8:18-19a), who quickly turns to quote "the cry of my poor people." This cry, recounted in 8:19b-20, is apparently interrupted by a rhetorical question from God in 8:19c (placed within parentheses in the NRSV) as a response to their initial question of whether the Lord had deserted Zion. God's response would indicate both that the Lord had indeed deserted the city and that the reason for this action was the people's provocative act of worshiping foreign deities. The prophet returns to speaking in his own voice at 8:21 through the end of the lament.
Within the portion of the lament included in the lectionary reading, the prophet's lament is solely in response to "the hurt of my poor people" (8:21). He is at a loss to explain why the people continue to suffer when healing agents are available to them (8:22). His mourning has left him completely spent, and he wishes to find the personal resources to continue his intercessions on their behalf. In the final two verses not included in the lectionary reading, the prophet turns to complaints regarding the treatment he is receiving from the people.
The prophet, then, is also overwhelmed with a sense of "Say it ain't so," but the reasons are quite different from those that prompt such a response to Jesus' parable. The prophet is struck to a point of disbelief that the usual means to restoration seem to have failed. God has deserted the people, the usual means of healing are nowhere to be found, and even mourning and repentance have proven apparently ineffective. Although not absent from Jeremiah's message on the whole, within the confines of this lament both the prophet and the people remain almost totally bereft of hope. They still cling to the belief of a "balm in Gilead" and physicians there who might restore them, but there is no present evidence to support that belief.
1 Timothy 2:1-7
One of the arguments against the Pastoral Epistles as authentic writings of Paul is the differing attitude toward the broader world in these letters as compared to his uncontested works. In the Corinthian letters and 1 Thessalonians, for example, Paul's ethic is driven and determined by a sense that Christ will return at any moment and that one's relationship with both family and society must be constructed on that basis. This passage from 1 Timothy reflects a completely different outlook.
What is envisioned in this call to prayer is a protracted period in which the church and civil society must find a peaceful coexistence. The Christian community is to intercede on behalf of "kings and all who are in high positions" not so that the society will be ordered in accord with God's wisdom, but so that the church "may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity" (2:2). The final goal of a world transformed in accord with God's justice remains (God "desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth"), but the means to accomplishing this end seems to owe more to the long-term influence of the church's "peaceable life ... godliness and dignity" rather than an imminent, apocalyptic return of Christ.
The reason such an attitude toward civil authorities and the society generally may be advocated is because "there is one God" who is being reconciled to humanity through the mediatorial work of Christ Jesus. God is Lord over the world and not just the church, but the strategy for affecting that lordship is through the creation of favorable conditions for the church, not the overthrow of the world. When the governing authorities provide such peace and quiet, they are entitled not only to supplications but also thanksgiving to be made to God on their behalf.
Whether or not one concludes that such views of coexistence between the church and society could have been held by Paul himself, what cannot be contested is that the strategy for the church has shifted from "being in the world but not of it while awaiting deliverance" to "being in the world as a means of quiet and peaceable transformation of it." Clearly it is this latter strategy that has prevailed in the mainline church of the modern period. The challenge inherent in this strategy, however, is to keep the primary and ultimate goal on transformation of the society rather than the preconditions of peace and quiet with it.
Luke 16:1-13
Convinced that Jesus would not in any way endorse such behavior as that by the "dishonest manager," commentators through the centuries have sought ways to justify the manager's actions. It has been suggested that the manager was only presumed to be dishonest, both in the circumstances that led up to his dismissal and in his actions after he received the news. After all, his boss seems to be responding to rumors and innuendo about "squandered property" when he asks the manager, "What is this that I hear about you?" and then asks for an accounting. Maybe the reductions in the total debt amounts were accomplished by the manager's decision to forego his own commissions in exchange for future benevolence, so he had never really caused any financial loss to his boss. Or maybe the manager knew the debts included unlawfully high interest, and he simply denied his boss what would have been illegal or immoral capital gains. Such explanations are clever -- maybe we could even say "shrewd" -- but they don't come from the details of Jesus' parable. The evidence there shows the manager offers no defense, resists the notion of finding new honest work, and is explicitly called "dishonest" by Jesus in the telling of the story. No, it does not appear possible to explain away the scandal of the manager's actions.
Other commentators have suggested that the details of the story are so troubling, that we cannot possibly understand correctly what Jesus is trying to tell us if the parable remains the focus of our attention. The key, they believe, lies in what Jesus says after the parable. In Luke 16:9-10, it is reported that Jesus followed the telling of this story with admonitions to be faithful with the material possessions God has entrusted to us. "If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth" -- your material belongings -- "who will entrust to you the true riches" of the spiritual life and eternity? Jesus' point, as Fred Craddock (Luke [Interpretation] pp. 190-191) has put it, would be that "[l]ike the steward in the parable, [one should] use possessions so as to gain, not lose, one's future ... [F]or all the dangers in possessions, it is possible to manage goods in ways appropriate to life in the kingdom of God." The point of the parable in this view, then, is potentially obscured by its details. What Jesus really wants us to learn from this is that if the "children of this age" are shrewd enough to use material goods to secure their future retirement, then the children of light should be shrewd enough to use their possessions to secure eternal life. Presumably the means for gaining these spiritual rewards are not dishonest or deceitful business practices, but rather faithfully using what God has entrusted to us for the benefit of others.
Yet other commentators have suggested, however, that Jesus tells this story in all its troubling details precisely so as to trip us up. The ambiguity about the truthfulness of the initial "charges" against the manager and the boss' decision to fire him without an investigation, are to lead us to side with the manager. We cheer on the underdog manager who fights against his unjust boss by duping him in a roguish scheme. Everything seems fine until we realize, as Bernard Brandon Scott (Hear Then the Parable [Fortress], pp. 264-266) has observed, "the comedy has a barbed end: the action was unjust. The story ends by leaving the hearer in an uncomfortable position. The hearer has supported immorality by sanctioning the rogue's deceiving the master." The key to Jesus' parable, then, would lie in the fact that the boss himself ultimately commends the manager's actions. "The master in the end demands from a hearer a price -- the admission that the action was unjust -- and at the same time forfeits his power ... [T]he parable breaks the bond between power and justice. Instead it equates justice and vulnerability ... The kingdom is for the vulnerable, for masters and stewards who do not get even."
Scott's suggestion that the parable boils down to the truth that God's kingdom is ultimately for those "who do not get even" is not far removed from yet another dimension of meaning: The realization that the law is not going to save you. Whatever else might be said about the manager's actions, it was clear that he was not relying on a legalistic defense of his past actions to secure his welcome in other peoples' homes. Maybe instead of focusing on the particulars of the manager's actions, we should instead emphasize the response of his rich boss. His actions of providing opportunity for a final accounting rather than immediately having the manager thrown into prison and of commending the manager's "shrewd" plan rather than having him condemned for it can be seen as reminders of God's gracious forbearance with each of us.
Application
Parables are often like verbal Rorschach tests; what you see in them tells a lot about who you are and what is going on around you. I imagine a few are, by this point, feeling that I have brought many more inkblots into view regarding the Gospel Lesson appointed for this Sunday rather than making clarifications. Perhaps that is to be expected since parables are stories rooted in life, and life never neatly distinguishes between "good guys" and "bad guys." Many people are looking for simplistic "either ... or" answers to life. They can only respond to Jesus' acknowledgement of such messiness in life, where heroes like "Shoeless" Joe Jackson are also villains, by exclaiming, "Say it ain't so!"
We used to be able to at least count on our entertainments to neatly distinguish the good guys by their white hats and the bad guys with black ones, but not any longer. The latest Vin Diesel action-film, The Chronicles of Riddick, was promoted with the line, "Sometimes the only way to stop evil is not with good; you must confront it with another kind of evil." Even our science fiction epics no longer pit good against evil, but only one kind of evil that serves our enemies with another kind that (we hope) will serve us. No doubt there will be some who will find in Jesus' parable further support for acting in the world in precisely this manner.
Yet, while Jesus' parable may give a knowing nod to the moral ambiguity of our world, it does not give it an endorsement. It is, after all, the master who commends the dishonest manager, and the gospel does not report that Jesus allegorized the master's commendation into divine approval. That doesn't mean, however, that the gospel provides a single, unambiguous interpretation of the parable. At one level, the parable may be about the need to dispense with naivet © and act shrewdly within a corrupt world (16:8b). At another level, it may advise committing our financial resources to purposes of eternal value (16:9). In still other ways, it counsels against the improper stewardship that landed the dishonest manager in such a fix in the first place (16:10-12). Finally, it demonstrates the need of total commitment rather than divided allegiance since no one can serve two masters (16:13).
Perhaps rather than trying to flatten the interpretation of the parable into one of these truths for the purposes of the sermon, the preacher should instead concede, and even embrace the moral complexity of both the parable and the world. The secular world is sophisticated and shrewd enough to recognize that life is too messy for a simplistic view of things. But, rather than conceding a worldview that answers evil with another kind of evil, the parable invites us to see the complexity of the world as an opportunity to find multiple ways to respond to that messiness that builds a just future.
To the degree that this parable depends on the moral ambiguity of our world, it reminds us of the scandalous truth that even in the actions of a "dishonest manager" God speaks to us about the mysteries of the kingdom and the wonders of divine grace. Just as Jesus used this parable to teach his disciples, so God will continue to speak to us in these ethically confused times to instruct us not only about our society but also about ourselves as individuals.
Alternative Applications
1) Jeremiah 8:18--9:1; Luke 16:1-13. Three years after 9/11 with the continuing loss in a sense of personal and international security, many people simply cannot believe that the world has come to such a place. Has God completely abandoned us because of our failings? Where is there any ground for hope and healing in our world? Are we compelled to adopt the shrewdness and ethically disreputable tactics of a corrupt world simply to survive? Both Jeremiah and Jesus call on us to hold on to our belief that there is indeed a "balm in Gilead" and a "physician there" in our God who acts with undeserved grace. If amid the horrors and abuses of slavery, African-American Christians could compose and sing the spiritual affirming that there is indeed "a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole," then even in the midst of our current uncertainty we, too, can hold on to that faith.
2) 1 Timothy 2:1-7. With the fast approach of the 2004 general elections in the United States, it is likely that congregations will be trying to find the point of balance between responsibilities as citizens of the state and people of the realm of God. From the distribution of conservative voter guides to the presence of politicians campaigning from pulpits in African-American churches, some congregations will call for active engagement in the political process whether their particular political agendas are positioned more to the right or the left. Other churches will argue for a strict separation between church and state, while yet others will call for a studied indifference while awaiting an apocalyptic intervention from God. Only the last of those approaches seems undercut by this lectionary reading, but all of them need to be reminded by this epistle that even at its best the state can only provide conditions conducive to the church's mission. We pray for those in authority not so that they will transform society for us, but so that the church may freely act, empowered by the Spirit, to further Christ's reconciling ministry.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 79:1-9
This poignant prayer of lament and community grief gives expression to what it feels like to suffer as a person of faith. If we believe that we are truly part of God's community, then the destruction of that community, as was the case with Israel in 587 B.C., becomes a time for doubt, anger, and confusion. Furthermore, if we believe that we are individual members of that community, our personal suffering also creates an opportunity for a crisis of faith. Why didn't God protect me? Of course it does not take a national catastrophe to raise those sorts of questions. The cancer wards and surgical suites of hospitals are often settings for prayers of lament.
Once we start asking the question, it's hard to stop. What exactly is going on when we suffer, either as a nation or a community or as individuals? The psalmist assumes, as does the prophetic tradition associated with the exile, that the suffering of Israel was punishment. Israel sinned against God and God's covenant. Israel became unfaithful. Israel forgot the widow and the orphan. For these sins, God sent them into exile.
But for how long? Is the sin so great that the relationship is ended forever? Is it exile or is it abandonment? The people of Israel surely had moments when they wondered if God had forgotten them.
The psalmist gives eloquent voice to all this, and more. But there is in this psalm an allusion to another fear, a fear that is perhaps greater than the fear that because of their sin God would abandon the people of Israel forever. The psalmist hints that there are some who might wonder if God is really up to the task of protecting God's people.
The psalmist writes, "We have become a taunt to our neighbors" (v. 4). What is it that is taunted? Are these tormentors suggesting that the God of Israel is a weak God, an inept God?
As the taunts ring out, those who are suffering might become aware of their own concern. Maybe this started out as punishment, but what if God can't call it off? God allowed the "nations" to swoop down upon the holy city, but is God capable of turning them back? Does the pain of an extended exile coupled with the pain of Jerusalem's defeat really suggest that God can be defeated?
In defiance of this fear, the psalmist directs his prayer to the very heart of God's character. "Help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of your name" (v. 9). The psalmist challenges God to honor the covenant even though God's people did not. The psalmist calls on God to vindicate God's reputation in the world by restoring the people of Israel to their place of privilege even though it was through their own carelessness it was lost.
There is therapeutic value in giving voice to our pain and our fears. It's pretty easy to confess, "I am suffering because I deserve it." It's a bit harder to say, "I'm suffering and I don't know why God is allowing it; why God won't stop it; why it goes on and on."
By calling on God to vindicate God's own reputation, the psalmist offers a profound way to reintroduce hope to a community that may well have been on the brink of losing hope, and maybe losing faith. Even if we don't deserve to be saved, God will save us anyway because that's who God is.
