Bad Examples

Series: Pentecost

I cannot tell you how delighted I am to be back in the warmth of this parish community and by the richness of worshipping with you. I know that I should thank Geoffrey and the other clergy for giving me this opportunity. But then I know that they, like most preachers, would do anything to get out of preaching on this gospel lesson, including reaching into ancient history for a former rector. Be that as it may, I am still delighted and grateful to be back at St. Alban’s. And I am still responsible for making some sense out of Jesus’ parable about the dishonest steward. 

The story is of a cretinous clerk whose extravagances are discovered and whose day of reckoning is set. Before facing his employer for what is surely to be the last time, he cooks the books in favor of clients whose moral vision is as murky as his own. His employer, instead of being outraged, congratulates him for his cleverness, and presumably kept him on. Everything in this story is counter to everything that Jesus ever taught, until we pause over these words stuck on the end of it: “. . . for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” In other words, this is not how we children of light are to behave. It is apparent that Jesus expects us to be able to learn from bad examples like the moral pygmies in this parable and not just from the ethical giants like the Good Samaritan. But learning from a bad example requires a particular kind of skill. I would like to think about that with you for awhile this morning. 

Bad examples in the Bible or in the news, in family lore or in neighborhood gossip present us with a tempting moral trap which is to see ourselves as spectators giving a rowdy thumbs up or down to the behavior of others. While we are safe in the bleachers, they are scrabbling in the arena. Thank God we are not like them: the Epsteins, Weinsteins, and Cosbys of the world, the parents who buy college admission for their children,  the looters, shooters, and polluters of life. We think we can enjoy their humiliation or lament their escape, all from the safety of the bleachers. 

The problem is that life is not a spectator sport. We are all linked together, like it or not, and neither piety nor denial can unlink us. We are separated from the dishonest steward by degrees, not absolutes. There is only one human topography. The moral high ground is simply an extension of the unethical valley. That is an unpleasant truth and, like most reasonable people, we do what we can to avoid it. So in just a few minutes we will take head-bobbing pride in joining with the victims of life’s hardships in our intercessory prayers, standing together with them before God pleading for grace. But somehow we miss the fact that in the confession that follows those prayers we are joined with the perpetrators of those hardships, standing together with them before God pleading for forgiveness. Both the intercessions and the confession use plural pronouns that reach all the way to you and me. The ‘we’ of ‘we confess’ is the same size as the ‘our’ in ‘our Father.’ Life’s arena has no bleachers. The dishonest steward and his ilk are not them, they are us. Ours is not to judge them but to learn from them, which is what Jesus is asking us to do in this parable. 

So how can we learn from the bad example in today’s gospel?  The first way is to notice the subtle shift in the focus of the story.  It begins with an interaction between two people – the  owner and the manager – but quickly becomes focused on just one. It moves from ‘us’ to ‘me.’  The clerk uses eight personal pronouns in his reasoning.  That subtle shift is not trivial, it is a major aspect of human sin. The swing from ‘us’ to ‘me’ can destroy a marriage, it allows the grossest kind of irresponsibility with the environment, the economy, and the political landscape. If we come to this parable as learners rather than as judges, then let us learn from that vital and often fatal step from ‘us’ to ‘me.’ 

A second lesson available to us in this bad example is the double-down tactic of the clerk. It was dishonesty that got him into trouble in the first place, and he assumes that more dishonesty will get him out. If we were in the bleachers of life, we could see how foolish that is.  But, as we all know, in the arena it can have its appeal. When the immediate perils of truth begin to outweigh the inevitable costs of falsehood, that kind of foolishness can seem to make sense. Just one little fib to cover up the last one. The response to right-wing anger is left-wing anger.  We hate bigots. We have a communication problem but I don’t want to talk about it. The children need more attention, let’s sign them up for piano lessons? That cretinous little clerk who seems so different from us is actually sitting among us, giving us an opportunity to reflect, learn, and grow. 

There is one more point to consider. Jesus has given us a parable based on what he calls “this generation” by which he means the way the human-centered world does its business. It is contrasted with the God-centered “children of light.” It is obvious that the textbook answer to the question of identity is that we are among the children of light. But speaking personally I have to admit that I am doing pretty well in this human-centered world.  And unless the demographics of St. Alban’s have greatly changed since I left, most of you are doing pretty well too.  I do not think that is wrong or bad on the face of it.  We are, I believe, to be stewards, responsible managers of our wellbeing, not guilt-ridden deniers of it.  But the fact remains that most of us walk with confidence in “this generation.” 

So let us wonder, if Jesus told a parable about my life or your life or our life together, what would be the point? Would it be, like this gospel, about the slippery slope that goes from ‘us’ to ‘me’? Would it be about the foolishness of doubling down, trying to lie our way out of deceit or fake our way into integrity? Or would there be some other point that our stories would provide?  If Jesus told the story of our accommodations to “this generation,” I would hope that his listeners would not judge or pity us but seek to learn from us so that we all can move closer to the light. I think that is what Jesus is asking us to do in today’s parable of the dishonest steward.  Amen.