In 1930, whilst wrestling in his day job with the challenges of the Great Depression, John Maynard Keynes penned a curious little essay entitled Economic Possibilities for our Grandchildren. In it he suggested that by about 2030, after a century or so of the economic growth his policies would stimulate, we could all have enough to lead a good life, in which paid work would occupy no more than about 15 hours per week. If only, we sigh. Keynes’ little essay was dismissed at the time as little more than a whimsical jeu d’esprit – but it’s interesting to consider why he got it so wrong. GDP has in fact increased more or less as he anticipated, laying the economic foundations for his utopia. However, as incomes have grown, we have not reduced our working hours in order to enjoy the good life. On the contrary we have simply got used to working even longer in order to earn and spend more and more. An additional twist is added by the competitive desire to spend just a little bit more than my neighbour. Nobody seems willing to address the potentially disastrous consequences of such growth, still less to propose calling a halt, but a recent book by Robert and Edward Skidelsky, entitled ’How Much is Enough?’ points out that our predicament raises many of the moral issues which are at the heart of this morning’s gospel reading.
One of my commentaries describes the parable of the dishonest manager as ‘noteworthy for its obscurity’, another as ‘bristling with difficulties’. It would be tempting to duck the issue altogether by focussing on the last verse, as a basis for exhorting you all to serve God rather than wealth, but I think you would rightly expect me to dig deeper than that. Having already given his manager notice, why on earth would the rich man commend him for using his last days in office to feather his own nest? One possible explanation turns on the Pharisaic interpretation of the prohibition of usury, the taking of interest on a loan. The Pharisees had determined that it was OK to take interest if the transaction could be represented as mutually beneficial, and above all freely negotiated between the parties, under no kind of duress. If that was so, the deal could be treated as a joint investment. The rule of thumb was this: if both parties had some of the goods in question, it was legitimate to presume that the borrower was entering into the agreement voluntarily. Since even the poorest peasant would usually have a few drops of oil at the bottom of his vat, or a few scoops of wheat in his store, the custom had grown up of denominating debts in terms of oil or wheat – as in the present parable – and hey presto, it was OK to charge interest at any rate that might be agreed. Practices equivalent to the pay day loan are at least as old as the prophet Amos. With his legal but immoral sharp practice revealed, the rich man was in no position to complain when his manager struck out the usurious rate of interest, putting the loans onto a more legitimate basis. He just had to smile through gritted teeth and commend him for mending his ways and belatedly putting matters right.
That’s a nice rational way of explaining the rich man’s unexpected commendation of his dishonest manager. In the verses which immediately follow this morning’s reading, Jesus is indeed critical of the Pharisaic tendency to lose sight of the true purpose of the law, whilst insisting on its detailed observance. However, that point, if indeed it is there, seems to be something of an afterthought. The reason given for the rich man’s commendation of his manager is not that he has belatedly adopted a more moral approach, but that he has been shrewd in the personal crisis precipitated by his dismissal, acting decisively to use his position and his remaining authority over his master’s wealth to secure his future. There are in fact two strands to the argument.
First, in Luke’s gospel Jesus is continually warning people of the crisis which they are facing as God prepares to act in history. At the coming of God’s kingdom, which Jesus perceives as imminent, will they side with the establishment or with Him? Will they continue to plot and scheme for themselves, or will they follow his new way of service and loving self-sacrifice? If the worldly-wise manager could see what was coming, and act accordingly in his sphere of life, why couldn’t God’s chosen people see their true destiny and seize it now, before it was too late?
That was probably always the main point, but there was an important rider about the proper use of wealth, which features in the additional sayings Luke attaches to the main story in the last few verses of our reading, and indeed in the sharp parable of Dives and Lazarus which follows. The rich man’s commendation of his dishonest manager is the punch line of today’s story. The related sayings of Jesus beginning with the words ‘and I tell you’, include the remarkable injunction to make friends for yourself by means of dishonest wealth, so that when it is gone, they (that is to say the friends you have made) will welcome you into the eternal homes. What is meant here by dishonest wealth? The Pharisees could tell you what money was legally acquired but tainted in the sight of God, and they could probably help you to keep most of it on the right side of the line. As in so many moral questions, Jesus sets a new and more demanding standard. He rightly perceives that our preoccupation with getting and spending, however honestly we do it, tends to crowd out that preoccupation with the service of God and our neighbour to which we are called by the great commandments. We can and must do both, but we cannot at the same time give top priority to making and spending money and to loving and serving God and our neighbour. We have to choose. ‘How much is Enough?’ is an intriguing question, and one which can lead us in the right direction. But the question Jesus would ask is not: How Much is Enough to lead the good life?, but How Much is Enough to set you free to serve God and your neighbour? And in answer to that question he has already assured us that our Heavenly Father knows what we need and we don’t need to lose any sleep over it.
So How Much is Enough? How much is enough for me? How much is enough for you? I can’t give you a figure. But it is a serious question for each one of us to answer, thoughtfully and prayerfully, year after year as our circumstances evolve. That’s why we need a stewardship month every year. It’s coming up in October, immediately after next week’s Harvest Festival, but I make no apology for starting now. The Diocesan average for giving to the church is just 3-5% of income after tax, considerably less than the Biblical standard of a 10% tithe for charity, but I think we should regard these levels as a rough guide for a level of giving equivalent to club membership. Jesus praised the poor widow who gave her last two coins. He was sad about the rich man who could not face the challenge which his wealth presented. The lesson we take from the parable of the dishonest manager is that we should be really generous. If our giving is motivated by our love for God and for our neighbour – our war-torn neighbour in Syria as well as our impoverished neighbour both near to home and far away – it is they whose tears of gratitude will welcome us into the heavenly homes when we enter the kingdom of heaven. Who will be there to welcome us, if we spend all or most of our time getting it and spending it, like the rich man Dives who could spare only a few scraps for the poor man Lazarus who lay begging at his gate.
How much is enough? How much do I really need? How much can I give to those who need it more than I do? Like the dishonest manager facing dismissal, each one of us needs to ponder these questions over the coming weeks, and respond to them decisively and without delay.