[Sermon delivered at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, Phoenix, Arizona, The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost, September 18, 2022]
✠ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, the Trinity, one in Essence and Undivided. Amen.
Today, we just heard the parable of the embezzling steward. I am sure I am not the only preacher in Christendom who, when confronted with this passage, thinks, “Oh. Great. What in Heaven, Hell, or Earth between do I do with this parable?” I have proof. Consider this excerpt from a sermon on the same subject from none other than St. Augustine of Hippo:
WHY did the Lord Jesus Christ present this parable to us? He SURELY did not approve of that cheat of a servant who cheated his master, stole from him, and did not make it up from his own pocket! On top of that, he also did some extra pilfering. He caused his master further loss, in order to prepare a little nest of quiet and security for himself after he lost his job. WHY did the Lord set this before us?[1]
His peevishness is understandable…this seems to be a part of the Gospel where Our Lord seems to be advocating a very cynical and, well, mercenary worldview, particularly when He tells us to, in the words we heard today, “…make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”[2]
There is something very odd about that statement. Here we are confronted with “dishonest wealth” and the “eternal homes.” The word “dishonesty,” in Greek ἀδικία, can translate better to English as “unrighteousness.” The word used for homes, σκηνή, literally means “tents” and has some interesting word shading; in secular use, it can be just a tent, a mobile structure, but in the theatre it refers to the backdrop against which productions are staged, and in Judaism, it refers to the Tabernacle itself, the setting for the ongoing worship of the Lord God. Also, the word we translate here as “wealth” is a Semitic word, mammon. In Classical Hebrew it simply means wealth or resources, in Phoenician, it means profit, and in Aramaic it mostly means wealth and profit. While it technically is a neutral word. Our Lord calls it dishonest or unrighteous, a theme consistent throughout His teachings, from statements such as, “It is more difficult for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God,”[3] to, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”[4] In the same vein, Jesus states in the Sermon on the Mount,
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”[5]
So why does Jesus here seem to be counselling the exact opposite?
There are two ways to approach this passage. Many Church Fathers take the very material view that it is about the use of material resources garnered through this life to impact one’s standing in eternity. They assert that slavish accumulation of material wealth points to a spiritual sickness where it forms an idolatrous attachment rupturing one’s relationship with God. Alternatively, Origen takes a very interesting view, totally in keeping with his predilection of making everything an allegory, that the unrighteous wealth gathered here stands for the spiritual debts others owe us.
Origen’s interpretation is worth exploring, but I will summarize it here because using the word “obtuse” to describe his writing style is charitable. He notes the bills the unjust steward is adjusting symbolize the records of our sins, and that it is the mercy that his master shows him is the grace of the cross and the action of the Holy Spirit.[6] Let me give you a concrete example that I wish Origen had given me. In the Lord’s Prayer we pray, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” Forget whether the word is “debts,” or “trespasses,” or “sins,” because the base meaning is the same. In that petition we enter into a covenant with God, a covenant asking for God’s mercy because we have also shown mercy to others. Whether this is writing off an actual debt, as in the parable, giving freely with no expectation of reciprocation, or forgiving an insult or offence, we offer forgiveness to others trusting that doing so we also will receive the mercy of our Master, securing us a place with Him in Eternity.
St. John Chrysostom takes a (thankfully) much more concrete approach.[7] Rather than turning mammon into a symbol for our treasury of sin, he flat out referred to early Byzantine IRA’s and hedge funds:
“What excuse will we have if we heedlessly lock our money behind doors and barricades, and we prefer to leave it lying idle? Instead, we should make it available to the needy now, so that in the future we may count on support from them. Remember that Scripture says, ‘Make friends with ill-gotten gains so that, when you go down in the world, they may welcome you into their eternal dwellings.’”[8]
St. John clearly states that any wealth we have is on loan from God, and not to be collected for collection’s sake. It is God’s, not ours, just the same as the accounts did not belong to the steward but to his master. In both cases, the monies are given in trust to be managed appropriately. St. Augustine makes a similar observation in his sermon we quoted previously, stating that as we give from our accumulation of the wealth of unrighteousness to the needy, we give it to Jesus Himself. He further warns that we do not get to pick and choose worthy recipients, simply because we as humans just are not psychically equipped to do that (no matter what late-night television psychics may have told you). St. Augustine puts it starkly:
“When you give alms to all different types of people, then you will reach a few who deserve them. You are hospitable, and you keep your house ready for strangers. Let in the unworthy, in case the worthy might be excluded. You cannot be a judge and sifter of hearts.”[9]
This brings me to the term “dishonest wealth,” which you have heard me avoid and call “wealth of unrighteousness.” Here the Scripture translators muddied the waters a bit. The actual Greek phrase is not, as this translation would have you believe, ἐκ τοῦ μαμωνᾶ τοῦ ἀδίκου, it is ἐκ τοῦ μαμωνᾶ τῆς ἀδικίας, “the wealth of unrighteousness.” St. Augustine clarifies this by explaining that there are two types of wealth or treasure, either the deeds of righteousness that are stored in Heaven which do not rot, corrode, get stolen, or depreciate, or the type of wealth that does rot, corrode, get stolen, and depreciate, the second type being the wealth the unrighteous go for with all guns blazing.[10] It is precisely this sort of wealth, the temporal wealth, that Jesus enjoins us to share in order to boost our eternal wealth, and is much more secure than Bitcoin.
This is high time to point out a particularly dangerous heresy that infects many theologies. Many presume upon St. Paul’s injunctions throughout his letters that it is faith alone that saves us, and that what we do has nothing to do with our salvation.[11] Frankly many make the claim that this is all that is needed and thus proceed to sit on their laurels and do nothing else except maybe hit the doors of a church every so often. Case in point, some of the Reformers did not like St. James’ Epistle, particularly in the second chapter, which states that we know faith is alive by the evidence of what people do rather than what people say. St. James flat out states, “You see that a man is justified by works and not by faith alone.”[12] St. Paul stressed that works alone cannot justify, St. James stresses that faith alone cannot justify anyone. A balanced theology demands that the faithful believer keeps alive their faith by looking out for those around us.
In the same sermon where he comments on this Gospel, St. Augustine makes note that everybody has something they can do, even the poorest among us, no matter how small the effort, and he quotes the parable of the talents[13] to make that clear, the more one has, the more is expected, and the less one has, less may be expected but there is still some expectation. St. Mary’s is not what we would call a rich parish. Our resources are small, but there are still things we can do within our means for the least of these. Sometimes we are in need ourselves and dependent upon God’s Providence, but other times we do have the wealth of unrighteousness and it is important to remember that at those times we are expected to remember those around us who do not. When St. Dominic was in seminary, Spain was going through hard times, and even though he was dirt-poor himself, he still reached into his resources by selling off his textbooks so he could help feed the starving.[14] Zacchaeus the Publican was not poor by any stretch of the imagination, but when he heard the teachings of Jesus he gladly gave half of his net worth to the poor and to those he defrauded.[15] Regardless of means, regardless of the portion of our wealth of unrighteousness, the point is that we make sure nothing material holds onto us, so that we are free to help others and that those we help can welcome us with open arms in the Kingdom of our God and Father. Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
✠ Through the prayers of the Most Holy Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary, Holy Dominic, and all the saints, Saviour save us. Amen.
[1] St. Augustine, “Sermon 359A”, Rotelle, J.E., ed. The Works of St. Augustine: A Translation for the Twenty-First Century, Hyde Park, N.Y.: New City Press, 1990, Part 3, Volume 10, p.216, emphases mine. [2] Lk. 16.9 [3] Mt. 19.24, Mk. 10.25, Lk. 18.25 [4] Mt. 5.3 [5] Mt. 6.19-21. The word “rust” is literally “eating” (βρῶσις), likely better translated as “corrosion” as rust is specific to iron oxidation. [6] Origen, “Homilies on Genesis,” 3.14, Fathers of the Church: A New Translation, Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1947, vol. 71, p. 194 [7] In fact, St. John Chrysostom despised allegory in all its forms almost as much as J.R.R. Tolkien famously wrote 1500 years later, no doubt Tolkien’s less than subtle dig at his friend C.S. Lewis’ writing habits. [8] St. John Chrysostom, “Homilies on Genesis,” 3.21, Fathers of the Church: A New Translation, Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1947, vol.74, pp. 49-50 [9] St. Augustine, “Sermon 359A”, Rotelle, J.E., ed. The Works of St. Augustine: A Translation for the Twenty-First Century, Hyde Park, N.Y.: New City Press, 1990, Part 3, Volume 10, p. 216 [10] Op. cit., p. 218 [11] Cf. Eph. 2.8-9 [12] Jas. 2.24. The Anglican 39 Articles of Religion firmly avoids this heresy in Article 12 but may go a bit overboard in Article 13. Classic Anglicanism is not a “faith alone” theology. [13] Mt. 25.14-30 [14] St. Jordan of Saxony, Libellus de principiis Ordinis Praedicatorum, 10 [15] Lk. 19.1-10