Scarcity / Abundance

Sermon for The Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost

St. John's, Georgetown Parish | Washington, DC

Luke 16: 1-13

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Luke’s Gospel offers to us these words of Jesus: “You cannot serve God and wealth.” With this phrase, Jesus is quite clear. It is straightforward. It is unwavering. And yet, this parable is far from simple. In fact, aside from this phrase, there is little to be understood at face value.

In this passage, the disciples are gathered together, and Jesus tells a story. First, we are introduced to the character of a “Rich Man.” He is a landowner. He has amassed great material riches. And he has been cheated out of a portion of his property.

The story offers few additional details. We don’t know the means of his wealth. We don’t know how he uses this wealth. And Jesus seemingly passes no judgement on the man’s financial status, either positively or negatively.

Then, we meet a second character, the “Dishonest Manager.” He has squandered what has been entrusted to him. He is dishonest in his business practices. He is fearful. And he is cunning in preserving his own security. And for this, the dishonest manager is praised.

The story pretty much ends there. If a greatest hits volume of Jesus Parables exists somewhere, I’m guessing this one wouldn’t make the cut. I can just imagine the confusion of an editor if this were submitted as a manuscript for publication: So, who is the hero in this story? And who is the villain or victim? Is there any redemptive arc—or is this really it?

I wonder just who it is we’re supposed to emulate. Because on the surface it seems we are encouraged to admire the dishonest manager: Be cunning. Get ahead. Protect your self-interest, no matter the cost.

But if this is how we engage our scriptures, it would seem we would have to also draw the opposite conclusion. Because with this same approach it would seem we ought to admonish the dishonest manager. So, instead, be honest. Maintain your personal integrity. Be faithful in even the smallest of things, and for all of this you will be rewarded with great riches.

Perhaps though, this parable is not as simple or straightforward as we might prefer.

I am reminded of the kind of novel that plods along without any evident character development. The novelist provides no bowtie-wrapped moral platitudes or exemplars. Instead, there are lengthy descriptions of a cast of people in all of their ordinariness—or maybe even the total bleakness of their situations. And the longer this kind of story plods along, the more you being to ache for some semblance of a redemptive narrative.

For me, it is also kind of like watching reality TV. Pick your favorite and preferably trashiest example—whatever it might be. Is the point of these guilty pleasures really to behold some grand transformation? Or is it not so secretly to watch others make bad decisions, over and over again? Honestly, the feeling of moral superiority this brings can be quite cathartic. (There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say in the pulpit...)

Okay, confession time: I have a love/hate relationship with the show ‘Survivor.’ Even though this long-running show is now in its 42nd season, I yet to watch a single episode—and then a global pandemic came along... I won’t divulge how many seasons I have since completed, but enough to notice a pattern.

The entire premise of this show is to dwindle competing contestants down to one “sole survivor.” Inevitably, as the season progresses, it seems all of the contestants I felt some attachment to are voted out. I find myself feeling detached and disinvested from those that remain. While it’s nice to feel morally superior for a time—before too long I just feel sad.

Eventually, I begin wondering about the system producing all of this entertaining dysfunction—and why we need one single winner, or why mere survival is really the goal in the first place... The summarizing words of Jesus’ parable are offered at this point of self-reflection. “You cannot serve God and wealth” is uttered following a story that provides little, if any, character validation or grand redemption. Rather, Jesus is telling a parable that invites us into deeper reflection.

What might we observe when step back from the surface level of this parable?

In the lives of these two characters, we can observe a social system of pre- determined choices. The foundation of their reality is scarcity—and scarcity makes for a feeble foundation. Fear—like that of the manager—is a predictable response in a society where “enough” exists only for some. Likewise, retributive action—like that of the rich man—is an understandable response to the squandering of “finite” resources accumulated. Through a lens scarcity, both responses are logical conclusions.

When each person’s security and wellbeing are determined by their individual merit, a survival instinct is predictable. Does any other choice exist?

As we step outside the surface of this story and hold alongside the good news of Jesus Christ, a profound void is illumined. In the absence of any semblance of collective concern, we are left with what feels like a world contracting on itself. Creativity is exhausted, and we are left without choice and possibility.

This is the outcome of scarcity. And no matter how well either of our story’s characters play the game, wealth will not satisfy. When this is where our allegiance lies, choices are pre-determined and the outcome all but inevitable.

But this is not what the economy of God looks like.

The God of Creation is desires that all people know and have life in abundance. God’s creative action is expansive, generative, and from new possibilities emerge. Within God’s economy, there is enough for all—and all can be made whole.

And as we live and move and find our being in this reality, we are moved from the fear of self-preservation to know true, eternal riches. But let me be clear though, what I don’t mean to suggest is that God’s abundance lavishes upon us all we desire to consume. Rather, as Ghandi once said, “There is enough for everyone’s need, but not everyone’s greed.”

We cannot serve God and wealth. Where we place our allegiance matters. And if our faith lies in an Economy of Scarcity, we will not know the fullness life in the Economy of God. And we need not look far to the implication in where we choose to be faithful. This is a story unfolding around us...

There was once a community of families. Their home was subjected to harsh realities. But even in their daily exposure to violence, fear, and death, they nourished desire for life. So, they departed from a world that held—alongside this suffering and loss—memories, laugher, and no doubt many loved ones. This choice had largely been pre-determined from realties far larger than themselves.

After a toilsome journey of several weeks, they arrived at a borderland between two worlds—one of great heartache, one of great promise. And there they were seemingly met with open arms. They were promised jobs, homes, and life in a new land. So, in seeking safety and survival, they boarded a plane.

On Wednesday of this past week, this group of migrant families arrived in Massachusetts. And when they deplaned onto Martha’s Vineyard they were abandoned. There were no jobs or homes. What had seemed to be a story promising abundance turned out to be the same old tired one of scarcity.

Upon their arrival, all that awaited was a strategically planned spectacle. Alongside a hired videographer, this flight had been funded by a United States Governor. This community of asylum seekers—this hope-filled beloved group bearing the image of God—were treated as mere political pawns. And to some this utterly dehumanizing stunt seemed like a logical outcome. Fortunately, though, this story does not end there. As news coverage and outrage over the draconian treatment of these migrants spread, there was also a faithful response. In particular, parishioners of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church on Martha’s Vineyard came together to provide shelter and food and welcome.

This is just but a glimpse of the possibility within God’s economy. And while this especially shocking event is attention gripping, it is but one of several examples— many of which are playing out in our own backyard. As members of this community who have gone to provide care to those similarly abandoned at Union Station can attest, whether our faith is placed in scarcity or in abundance has far- reaching consequences.

May we continually seek to be faithful in our lives—that all might know the wholeness of life God desires for all people.

Amen.