The Dishonest Steward: God’s-Eye View

Luke 16:1-13
The Rev. Sara Fischer

Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly.

I’d like to begin with a story from rabbinic folklore:

A man once caught stealing was ordered by the king to be hanged. On the way to the gallows he said to the governor that he knew a wonderful secret and it would be a pity to allow it to die with him and he would like to disclose it to the king. He would put a seed of a pomegranate in the ground, and through the secret taught to him by his father, he would make it grow and bear fruit overnight. The thief was brought before the king and the next day the king, accompanied by the high officers of state, came to the place where the thief was waiting for them. There the thief dug a hole and said, “This seed must only be put in the ground by a man who has never stolen or taken anything which did not belong to him. I, being a thief, cannot do it.” So he turned to the Vizier who, frightened, said that in his younger days he had retained something that did not belong to him. The treasurer said that dealing with such large sums, he might have entered too much or too little. Even the king owned that he had kept a necklace of his father’s. The thief then said, “You are all mighty and powerful and want for nothing and yet you cannot plant the seed, whilst I who have stolen a little because I was starving am to be hanged.” The king, pleased with the ruse of the thief, pardoned him. [From The New Interpreter's Bible, Vol. IX, p. 310. ]

This story is clever and engaging, and yet it is still somewhat ambiguous. The thief, fighting for his very life, acted wisely and swiftly. He engaged top officials and made them look at their own humanity. But the thief never ceased to be a thief. And in telling the story of the pomegranate seed, he may not have been being completely truthful. Yet, he is rewarded with the thing he values above anything else, his life.

This story of the thief and the magic seed is an ambiguous story. We don’t know what to make of it. Not unlike the parable we heard in today’s gospel, usually called “The Dishonest Steward.” If, while hearing this parable you struggled to understand why Jesus would tell such a story, you’re in good company. One commentator wrote: “Jesus may have used this parable to make a particular point, but no one is sure exactly what it is.”

Ambiguous may be the most positive thing we can say about this story. I want to suggest that it is in its complexity, in its confusion, that the redemptive message about God’s kingdom and God’s love for us is to be found. For this is the question that we need to ask about all of the parables: what is Jesus saying about the kingdom? What is Jesus saying about God’s love? What must we do to be saved? Is this not, honestly, always the question?

The dishonest steward has the same question. What must he do to redeem himself? How can he preserve that precious gift from God, his very life? There is much that is not said in this parable. There is a backstory that includes the economics and business practices of the day, that suggests that the master was not much more honest than his steward. The steward’s behavior appears utterly self-serving and not to be commended. But in the parable, the zeal and resourcefulness with which he responds is commended.

The steward in this story is on a mission. We, too, are on a mission, to serve God, our neighbors, and our community through ministries of service, hospitality, and faith formation. How can we use our zeal and resourcefulness to carry out this mission?

How can we be honest stewards—faithful in little things and also in big things? The wonderful preacher and teacher Fred Craddock has written:

Most of us will not this week christen a ship, write a book, end a war, appoint a cabinet, dine with a queen, convert a nation, or be burned at the stake. More likely the week will present no more than a chance to give a cup of water, write a note, visit a nursing home, vote for a county commissioner, teach a Sunday school class, share a meal, tell a child a story, go to choir practice, and feed the neighbor’s cat. “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much.” [The New Interpreter's Bible, Vol. IX, p. 311]

In this place, the litany of little things might include: welcome a visitor, share your hymnal with someone, bring a plate of cookies to coffee hour, spend a few hours cleaning the parish hall, pull weeds in the front of the building, change lightbulbs, help with a parish mailing. Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much.

The story about the dishonest steward’s belated attempts to be faithful shows a God’s-eye view of a person. All of us have had or will have the experience of losing someone we love. I am always struck by the fact that it is in the midst of loss that we are given a God’s-eye view of the people closest to us. I’m talking about how, when someone we love dies, suddenly all of their most annoying qualities either evaporate completely, or become loveable. This is how God sees us all of the time.

God adores us. God loves us even when we are misguided and confused and running as fast as we can in the wrong direction, using gifts of wisdom or prudence to serve ourselves instead of the kingdom. God’s tolerance for ambiguity and confusion is much higher than ours. We cannot begin to understand the dishonest steward from God’s perspective any more than we can understand our own story in God’s eyes. God can pick out what we have done right, where we have been faithful, and where we have not. Our job is not to run away from God, but to offer to God our own stories, our own mixed motives and best efforts, divided loyalties and confusion, and come to this table, share in this holy feast of our redemption.