Readings (Track 1)
“You cannot serve God and wealth.” That’s a statement that seems perfectly obvious when applied to other people, whether to the Spanish conquistadores who brought the cross and the sword —not necessarily in that order— to the Americas or to the occasional well-heeled tele-evangelist who practices creative bookkeeping. But the same statement seems unnecessarily limiting when applied to us. There really ought to be a way to do it!
Where did Jesus get “You cannot serve God and wealth”? He could have gotten it from the Decalogue: when wealth is the bottom line it’s a god and “no other gods before me” kicks in. This is another form of the duck test: if it walks like a duck & quacks like a duck, it’s a duck. If it drives my decision-making, it’s my god. He could have gotten it from reading prophets like Jeremiah. But I don’t think he came to it without carefully examining the alternatives. His career would have been a lot less frustrating and a lot less painful if he’d found a way! That may be what the 40 days in the wilderness were about. Recall the temptations. The devil invites him to turn stones into bread, to cast himself down from the pinnacle of the temple, to worship the devil in exchange for “all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor.” These are also ways of trying to serve God and wealth.
Now, sermons are supposed to contain good news, and “You cannot serve God and wealth” doesn’t sound very good newsy. It can, however, be useful information. It’s like the first rule of the hole: if you’ve dug yourself into a hole, the first thing to do is…stop digging. To the degree that we take “You cannot serve God and wealth” seriously, we save ourselves all the futile work involved in trying to serve both.
But “You cannot serve God and wealth” does more than this. Once accepted, it opens up some new possibilities, possibilities that Jesus explores through his story. But before diving into that story, a few words on our first two lessons.
Jeremiah is directed, broadly, to the leaders of the Kingdom of Judah at the end of the 7th Century bc. God had brought Israel into being about 600 years earlier —about the time of the fall of Troy— as a place where God would be loved and the neighbor loved —the two halves of the Ten Commandments or Decalogue. Measured against the Decalogue the leaders’ conduct was suicidal, particularly with respect to the love-your-neighbor half. And so God sends Jeremiah to announce the end of the Kingdom —exile. And from that time Jeremiah’s words are passed down from generation to generation so that Israel will remember that God really is serious about both halves of the Ten Commandments, that one cannot serve God and wealth.
Now one way of responding to Jeremiah would be to retreat into a strict legalism that wrote off everyone on the outside. Something like this was what Paul was responding to in the letter to Timothy. Rather than writing off everyone on the outside, pray for everyone —supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings— including the kings and folk in high positions who are as corrupt as Israel’s leaders were. Why? God desires that all be saved. God, desiring the salvation of all, has supplied a mediator between God and humankind —Jesus Christ— and appointed Paul —and many others down to ourselves— as witnesses of this. So —Paul to his audience— if God desires everyone to be saved, the least you can do is pray for everyone. In other words, don’t use “you cannot serve God and wealth” as a reason for writing off your neighbor—God hasn’t.
Another way of responding to Jeremiah would be to retreat into a sort of quietism, maybe to retreat into the desert and wait for the Messiah. Here’s where Jesus’ story comes in. It’s a strange story. To get into the spirit of it a soundtrack might help. As a sound track we might use the country-western song Kenny Rogers made famous back in 1979 called The Gambler. You may recall some of the lines… “Ev’ry gambler knows that the / secret to survivin’, / Is knowin’ what to throw away / and knowin’ what to keep. / ‘Cos ev’ry hand’s a winner, / and ev’ry hand’s a loser.” And the chorus: “You got to know when to hold ’em, / know when to fold ’em, / know when to walk away, / know when to run.”
So, keeping that song going in the background, recall the story Jesus tells: out of the blue a rich man gives his business manager notice. It’s a crisis: business as usual just isn’t an option. The business manager faces the crisis, and responds by calling in all the rich man’s debtors and reducing their debt, thereby making them indebted to him. (It’s not clear if he’s cheating his boss, or simply forgoing his cut.) His boss commends the manager for acting shrewdly. And Jesus glosses the story: make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes. Parenthetically, the phrase “dishonest wealth” or “unfaithful mammon” is probably a shameless pun, since “mammon,” the word for wealth, is probably derived from the Hebrew root for “faithfulness.” As Luke tells the story, Jesus is returning to a theme we’ve met before: “Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.” This doesn’t mean that every Christian is called to sell all their possessions —not even Luke believed that. But every Christian and every Christian community is called to recognize that God’s coming Kingdom means the economic arrangements of this world’s kingdoms will become obsolete and to use their resources —shrewdly. We can’t serve God and wealth, but, serving God, we can use what wealth we have to serve others, and—Jesus’ words, not mine—make purses for [our] selves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, (Luk 12:33). If the financial planners only knew…
This homily, you see, ends up being about stewardship —not simply what we give to the church, but how we steward (manage) all our resources.
The standard is God, who, in Jesus’ brother James’ words “gives to all generously and ungrudgingly” (1:5).
The surprise is that Jesus is quite happy to urge generosity for selfish motives—“an unfailing treasure in heaven.” Generosity for selfish motives—better than no generosity for selfish motives. And what can happen, of course, is that the generosity transforms—slowly—the motives.
The obvious question: just how generous do I have to be? I think Jesus would say that’s the wrong question. What might be the right question? Do I think that this generous God is worth imitating? If my answer is yes, then I sort, or continue to sort—that out within the web of relationships in which this God has placed me.
Ev’ry hand’s a winner, and ev’ry hand’s a loser. The secret to survivin’, is knowin’ what to throw away and knowin’ what to keep. Kenny Rogers’ gambler and Jesus’ business manager have something to say to us. Every hand’s a winner, and every hand’s a loser, so with every hand it’s possible to act shrewdly with what we have for the glory of the Lord. May God give us the grace to continue to see and act shrewdly.