sermon Sept. 24, 2007

from Rachel Stivenson, our seminarian
Help us, O God our Savior, for the glory of your Name, deliver us and forgive us our sins, for your Name’s sake. Amen.

Do you ever have that fantasy that starts with “what would I do if I won the lottery?” Of course you do! I have it, and I don’t even buy lottery tickets. I think it’s a pretty common fantasy, to have enough money to do whatever we want to do, and even to have enough money to pay other people to do what we want them to do.
I can tell you what I would do if I suddenly had, say, fifty million dollars. I’m not a selfish person. I wouldn’t spend it all on myself, or even on my loved ones. There would be a new car, of course, and probably a full-time cook and housekeeper, college funds for my godchildren. But then I would set up a foundation and use that money in all kinds of good ways – to improve schools, beautify Belle Isle, fight AIDS, help refugees, end hunger – I have great plans for that money. I would use it to serve God in a big way.
And there’s the problem with my fantasy. Which is more important, the part about serving God, or the part about “in a big way”? For me, this fantasy is really about getting to be in control, making the world more like what I think it ought to be. I could look out on all the good I’m doing, pat myself on the back, and think, “Wow, Rachel, you’re really something. You’ve really made a difference.” I could easily get lost in the world of philanthropy, and never hear God’s quiet voice saying, “Did I ask you to save the world? Hasn’t that job already been taken?”
This is probably why God has not seen fit to entrust me with great wealth. Better to leave my grandiose plans in fantasyland. Because my lottery fantasy is all about trying to serve two masters. It’s pretending to serve God while really serving money, and power, and control.
Now, there are people who do truly serve God with their great wealth, and I am grateful for them. We need those hospitals and schools and such. But for me personally, it’s clear that my lottery fantasy, which pretends to be about being faithful in much, is a distraction from the question God is really asking me, “Are you being faithful in a little? Forget about the gifts I haven’t given you. Are you being faithful with the gifts I have given you?”
“Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. . . No slave can serve two masters; . . . You cannot serve God and wealth.” Luke has put these words of Jesus in the midst of a whole series of parables about wealth. There’s the parable of the prodigal son. In today’s gospel there’s this odd parable of the incompetent and dishonest manager. Next week we’ll hear about Lazarus and the rich man. And remember last week, we heard the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin? There’s another theme running through here, too, about being lost and being found. By putting all these parables together, Luke is telling us that how we handle our wealth is intimately connected to whether we are lost or found.
The prodigal son, who lost himself in the squandering of his father’s wealth, did not even realize he was lost until that wealth was utterly gone. It was only when his first master – money – failed him that he “came to himself,” as the Scripture puts it, and realized just how far away from home he had wandered. When he went back ready to submit himself to a new master, to be a servant to his father, he found enthusiastic welcome and much rejoicing. Just as there was great rejoicing over the sheep and the coin that had been lost and were found.
The manager in today’s gospel is another squanderer, and as a result he loses his job. Like the prodigal son, he is lost and he wonders what to do. He’s too proud to beg and too weak to do manual labor. But the plan he comes up with involves no change of heart, no turning to a new kind of master. It is dishonest and expedient, and the manager continues to serve wealth. This is one way to get by in the world. It works, after a fashion. His old boss is impressed with his shrewdness. But the manager doesn’t get his job back. There is no rejoicing, no suggestion of being found.
In the story of the rich man and Lazarus, which we’ll hear next week, again the rich man only sees clearly after his wealth is gone. In that parable it’s too late to change. No rejoicing. I really prefer the prodigal son story. But the point is clear – serving wealth rather than God will take you where you would rather not go.
Not all the wealthy people in these parables are bad guys. The prodigal son’s father is rolling in it – he can afford to give half his property to his son and keep running a successful farm, with servants, robes, and rings. But he also doesn’t appear to be attached to his wealth. What matters to him are his sons. His focus is on love.
The rich man in today’s reading also seems not too attached to his property. It’s not so clear where his focus is, but he doesn’t get upset over the rewriting of his debtors’ bills, engineered by the man he has just fired. In a society that placed great importance on honor, perhaps he was able to value the good will and honor that would come to him through the reduction of those debts, and so be less concerned about the loss of income.
Wealth itself is not the problem in these parables. Getting lost is the problem. It is possible to manage wealth, in service to God, without getting lost in it. It isn’t easy, however. Jesus said it was about as easy as putting a camel through the eye of a needle.
I think it’s important to remember at this point, that every one of us here is wealthy by global standards. It doesn’t always feel like it, with job uncertainties, mortgages, raising kids, the price of gas, and a thousand other worries. But we do have enough, and more than enough. It’s easy to get lost in our consumer society and forget that.
We are bombarded with ads that say we need more, that we are lost without this car or that beer, and that no one will love us if we have dandruff. The constant message is that whatever you’ve got, it’s not enough.
This is a lie. When we experience God finding us, the state of our bank account fades in importance. It doesn’t go away entirely, but the emphasis changes. As one of our J2A youth said after a week at an orphanage in Jamaica, “It’s not about what can you have, it’s about what can you give.” When God’s love finds us, and wraps us in the certainty that we are cared for, gratitude replaces fear. In service to wealth, we lament what is lacking rather than rejoice in what we have. In service to God, our focus turns to love, and there’s always more where that came from.
Jesus was talking to two very different groups of rich people here. There were the Pharisees, who grumbled and ridiculed. Although they would have said they were serving God, and maybe even meant it, they were really serving their own narrow version of religion. The religion they served – not Judaism in general, but their version of it – was more concerned with deciding who was holy and who was sinful than with the renewing love of God. Wrapped in self-righteousness, they had no room for the profusion of God’s abundant love in their lives.
Then there were the tax collectors, who had come to listen to Jesus. Although they had a lot of money, they had less to lose in social standing than the Pharisees. At least some of them, like the disciple Matthew, were able to find in Jesus’ words the freedom to break free from their complicity with the Romans and find a new life.
Jesus was also talking to the disciples, who had left everything behind to follow him. As confused and bumbling as they often were, the disciples got this right – when Jesus asked them to follow him, they went. They didn’t always know where their next meal was coming from or where they would sleep that night. But after encountering Jesus, that just wasn’t as important.
God gives each of us material and spiritual gifts, and leaves it up to us to decide how we use them. We can choose the service of the Kingdom or the service of something else – wealth, comfort, control, self-righteousness, security, whatever. Jesus tells us we can’t do both. Not we shouldn’t, or we mustn’t. We simply can’t. It’s impossible. Maybe it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway – the abundant life, the life of rejoicing, the life of finding and being found, lies in the service of the Kingdom.
It’s not necessary to make a big splash, so don’t wait for the lottery. “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much.” The visit to a lonely person, the check sent to the Red Cross, the decision to work toward tithing, the fervent prayer for peace – all these are acts of faithfulness. In these small acts we meet Jesus, who is always finding us. In these small acts we find the love that makes it possible to do the next faithful thing. And so we find our way into the service of God, whose faithfulness to us never fails.