Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity, 22 September 2019

Lectionary readings: Amos 8:4-7 and 1 Timothy 2:1-7 and Luke 16:1-13

Once upon a time there was a king, who was famed throughout the world for both his wisdom and his riches. No-one had ever seen anything like the days of Solomon before. But the king died, and his son came to the throne, and the people sent a delegation complaining that, for all his great reputation, the old king had exploited his people harshly. They hoped to see a different kind of wisdom, a more equitable sharing of blessing. But their hopes were dashed. The nation was torn in two. Surely, now, at least in the north with its new capital, Samaria, a fairer society would be built out of the rubble.

Sadly, it wasn’t to be. In Samaria, just as in Jerusalem, the rich turned their back on the LORD and exploited the poor. And so, the LORD sent prophets to call them to repent. One such prophet was Amos, sent to Samaria, to speak out against the complacency and self-centredness of the elite, who devoured the poor to fill their own bellies, and discarded whatever was left like so much chaff. Unless they repented, they themselves would be swept away. They refused to repent. Enter, Assyria.

Or take Haggai, whom we have been reading over recent days at Morning Prayer. Through Haggai, the word of the LORD came to those who had returned to Jerusalem from exile. But even that shaking had not taught them the lesson. The wealthy elite were back, had re-established themselves in panelled houses, while the house of the LORD lay in ruins. And so, the LORD censures them. When they come to their inventories, they expect to find twenty measures, but find only ten; they expect to draw fifty measures, but draw only twenty. Moreover, the LORD is about to shake the heavens and the earth; and will establish Zerubbabel, the governor, as his signet ring.

Generations later, Jesus stands in this same prophetic tradition, sent by God to call the people to repentance and to establish an equitable society that shines like a light to the surrounding nations.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells a parable, a story that is meant to disturb us, to make us question everything we think we know. The backdrop to this parable is a heightened confrontation with a group of Pharisees, who saw themselves as righteous before God and neighbour; and as wise interpreters of Torah, of the instruction given through Moses for the good society; and who enjoyed the material benefits befitting such persons.

In the parable, we meet a rich man and the manager of his household. And I want to suggest to you that we see the rich man as representing the nation and in particular the wealthy elite. For those of us who have been around church for a long time, it is tempting to assume that when we come across a rich man in parables, it must refer to God; but I want to suggest that that is problematic, especially given that in this parable Jesus repeatedly underlines that the wealth in question is the wealth of injustice, and draws an explicit incompatibility between such wealth and God.

Moreover, I want to suggest that we see Jesus as speaking of himself as the manager over the household. That is, as the one appointed manager over the household of Israel.

Now, charges were brought against the manager that he was squandering his master’s property. He has been subverting the rich man’s practice of hoarding for himself, at the expense of the poor. And the rich man demands that the manager gives an account of his actions.

The manager knows that he has been rejected. And so, he goes about the intention of being welcomed as manager over another household. He does so by writing-down the debts owed to the rich man. When he will go through the records, he will expect to find that he is owed a hundred jugs of oil, but will find that he is owed only fifty; he will expect to find that he is owed a hundred containers of wheat, but will find that he is only owed eighty. His ill-gotten gain is disappearing before his eyes.

Now, you need to imagine that Jesus is seated between his disciples and the Pharisees, and, in the hearing of the Pharisees, is instructing his disciples that they are not to be like them. But he is also pleading for any Pharisee who has ears to hear, to hear and repent. So, in the parable, the rich man does just that. He sees that the manager has acted against exploitation, and he praises him. Instead of a public dismissal, he is publicly commended.

Jesus continues, saying that those who claim to be the sons of light, a term that was in circulation with some currency as a way of claiming to be righteous in an unjust world, were not as wise as they made out. And so, it proves, when, far from repenting, the Pharisees ridicule him. Jesus, however, instructs his disciples to be like the manager, who subverts wealth, who subverts the injustice of wealth, to make friends with the poor, with those who will welcome us into what he calls the age-long tabernacle. That is, the enduring symbol of God’s presence in the midst of God’s people—whether the temple stands or not.

And then Jesus says that our attitude towards money reveals our attitude towards true riches.

The currency of maturity is forgiveness. Those who welcome Jesus into their lives as the manager of their household, over all their affairs, financial and otherwise, are those who know that their debts have been written-down, and written-down again, until they are written-off. But they also know that the debts they hold against others will be written-down and written-off: for that is the modus operandi of this manager. The one who taught his disciples to pray: ‘And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us’ (Luke 11:4a). If you would be forgiven, you must also forgive.

Some thirty years after the elite conspired with the authorities to have Jesus executed, Paul wrote to Timothy urging that the new household of God, the church, ought to pray, for everyone, and for kings and all those in high positions. As in the times of Amos, and Haggai, and Jesus, and Paul, so in every age (and whether we remain in the EU or leave the EU) the rich exploit the poor, and those who have much exploit those who have little. And we are to subvert this, even though it cost us our reputation, even though we are ridiculed. But we are to do so, not as revolutionaries; but, rather, in the hope that all might be saved. The rich and the poor. The elite and the commoner. In hope, despite all evidence to the contrary, of the possibility of a more just world.

Where do our prayers begin? Praying with Jesus, the one mediator between God and humankind, who gave himself a ransom for all: Father, forgive. Father, forgive them.