Sermon: "A Son and A Steward: Two Sinners’ Schemes for Salvation"- September 21, 2025

The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Luke 16:1-13

The Rev'd C. Patrick Perkins, Rector 

Transcript

This morning, as fate would have it, our appointed Gospel lesson contains one of Jesus’ most controversial parables, the Parable of the Dishonest Manager. Even a quick look through the commentaries shows that the finest New Testament scholars are far from unanimous on its meaning. 

It would be foolish to presume that I could untie knots my betters couldn’t, but that’s what I must try to do. The preacher’s task is to unpack a text so that listeners under-stand what it meant when it was written and what it means for us today. I do this with fear and trembling this morning, because our text presents several difficulties. 

First, how does Jesus want us to relate the master in this parable to God? Taken at face value, it appears that God is praising a man for being dishonest—a troubling idea. Second, what is the point of the parable? At first glance, it seems to say: “Employ shady tactics to win friends and gain eternal rewards.” That can’t be the lesson. Third, how does the parable relate to Jesus’ closing axiom: “You cannot serve God and wealth”? On the surface, the parable seems to suggest you can. How can we interpret this passage in way that doesn’t make Jesus look immoral, inconsistent, or idiotic? 

This morning, I’d like to suggest a way of reading this parable that I believe makes better sense of the text than many alternatives. To get there, we’ll have to examine the context of the passage, noting literary, historical, and theo-logical clues that illuminate Jesus’ intent. I can’t claim that my interpretation is the final word, but I hope to show it is a reasonable and coherent path through a difficult text. 

Exposition:

Let’s begin with the literary context. St. Luke records this parable immediately after the Parable of the Prodigal Son. This does not necessarily mean that Jesus originally told the parables back-to-back. Luke simply wants us to read the second parable with the first still echoing in our minds. The evidence for this is more than chronological. Luke begins both parables in the same way: “A certain man….” In both, the protagonist “squanders” the wealth entrusted to them. Both characters engage in an internal dialogue before acting to secure their future. And in both cases, the morally questionable protagonist is commended, not condemned. Are these parallels coincidental? I don’t think so. 

Assume, then, that Luke wants us to relate the parables. How does he want us to relate them? The historical context provides a clue by describing the original audience. In Luke 15:1–2, we read: 

“The tax collectors and sinners were drawing near to [Jesus], and the Pharisees and scribes grumbled, saying, ‘This man receives sinners and eats with them.’” 

Two very different groups were present for the first hearing: tax collectors and sinners, on the one hand, and Pharisees and scribes on the other. One group consisted of religious outsiders seeking a salvation to which they had no moral claim; the other, religious insiders seeking validation of their moral claims to salvation. This contrast is crucial for understanding how the two parables function. 

In the Parable of the Prodigal Son, a man squanders his father’s wealth and faces the loss of everything. He thinks: “I cannot go on like this. I have to do something. I’ll go to my father, confess my sin, and beg him to take me on as a servant.” We know how it ends: the father not only accepts the son’s apology but restores him to his place in the family—an act of pure, unmerited grace. The story is profoundly about repentance and divine mercy. 

In the Parable of the Dishonest Manager, another man squanders his master’s wealth and faces the loss of every-thing. But he thinks: “I cannot go on like this. I have to do something, but I’m unwilling to beg for mercy or debase myself to manual labor. Before I am dismissed, I will go to my master’s debtors and ingratiate myself so they will take care of me.” This story ends with the master commending the manager for his shrewdness, not for any ethical integrity. 

Think with me for a moment: it is easy to see how tax collectors and sinners could identify with the Prodigal Son. They, too, have no moral claim on salvation. Nothing but the Father’s grace can save them. Less obvious is how Luke connects the Dishonest Manager to the Pharisees. Are there textual clues to help us know? I believe there are. 

At the end of the Parable of the Prodigal, Jesus signals a turn by introducing the eldest son. The eldest son feels entitled to his inheritance and resents his brother for receiving more than he deserves. It’s pretty easy to see what Jesus is doing. Like the eldest son, the Pharisees feel entitled to the Father’s favor and resent the grace Jesus gives to their undeserving siblings, the tax collectors and sinners. This signals a shift: the Prodigal fades from view, and the eldest son—and, by extension, the Pharisees—comes into focus. How does this affect the way we hear the second parable? Allow me to offer a possibility. 

Like the manager, the Pharisees had been entrusted with stewardship of their Lord’s estate—God’s true religion. They were to be custodians of the Master’s resources, ensuring they were used according to the Master’s wishes. Let’s assume these resources are the Mosaic Law. One day, the Master discovers that the stewards have been squandering his resources, using the Law for their own ends rather than for the Master’s. When called to account, they don’t apologize or offer humble service. Instead, they attempt to secure their future by currying favor with others. They turn from their Master and seek new masters. The Master says: “I can’t condone your actions, but I have to acknowledge your cleverness. You have managed to save yourself—at least for now.” 

On first hearing, this interpretation may seem overly spiritualized, but it clarifies the rest of the passage. Let me show you how. 

When the parable proper ends in the middle of verse 8, Jesus continues with a couple of sentences that don’t seem to fit. He writes: 

“For the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that, when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” 

How does this relate to the parable that came before, and to Jesus’ axiom that follows? A few translation choices obscure the connection. For instance, the NRSV labels the manager with the adjective “dishonest,” but the Greek uses two nouns: “the manager of unrighteousness.” This means Jesus isn’t describing the steward’s character but identifying the source of the manager’s wrongdoing. This focus on what begat the steward’s unrighteousness sets the stage for the “children” language in the rest of the verse. 

When Jesus says, “the children of this age are shrewder than the children of light,” he’s dropping textual breadcrumbs. The first time “shrewder” was used in the Bible was in Genesis 3:1: “the Serpent was shrewder than any other beast of the field.” Later in that chapter, when God cursed the Serpent, he declared that the children of the Shrewd One would be in perpetual conflict with the children of the promise. Hmm...do you see what’s happening? The Master is giving the steward a back-handed compliment: “You are shrewd just like your father, the Devil, who has been tempting my children since the beginning.” 

Verse 9 continues: “Make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that, when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” Just as before, the Greek doesn’t read “dishonest wealth” but “the wealth of unrighteousness”—wealth whose very source is sin. Jesus is signaling that using money to try and secure a future only exposes the folly of trying to turn sin into blessing. And the “eternal homes” bit is literally “eternal tents.” This detail punctuates Jesus’ irony: The manager is attempting to purchase an eternal dwelling from folks who only have rental tents to offer! Jesus’ words are almost dripping with sarcasm! 

Now, with these details in mind, the parable’s meaning emerges. In the Prodigal, sinners willing to beg for God’s forgiveness are graciously received into God’s household. This is hope for tax collectors and sinners. Then Jesus turns to the Pharisees and scribes by highlighting the eldest son—entitled and resentful. Jesus then gives them a parable of their own describing people entrusted with the riches of true religion who squander them for selfish gain. They don’t beg forgiveness or serve humbly. Instead, they try to save themselves by manipulating God’s resources to curry favor. They bend the Law to serve those who can reward them. Like Adam and Eve, they choose self over God. They claim to be God’s children, but their shrewdness reveals the master they truly follow. 

Seen in this light, the remaining verses become clear. Jesus contrasts faithful service with the unrighteous ways of the world. Those faithful in everyday stewardship will serve God when the real test comes; those who manipulate God’s gifts for selfish gain reveal the master they truly serve. If we cannot be trusted with what belongs to God, why would he entrust us with anything of our own? What is more, our use of wealth, influence, and religion exposes where our hearts truly lie. Faithfulness in small things signals readiness for the eternal; cleverness for self-interest signals a life enslaved to Mammon. 

Conclusion:

Jesus closes with an axiom that moves us from the “there and then” to the “here and now”: 

“No servant can serve two masters. He’ll love one and hate the other. He’ll be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.” 

Friends, this is where the parable lands on us. Like the dishonest manager, we often try to use the resources God has entrusted to us to secure safety, comfort, or reputation —thinking that money, influence, or appearances can buy a kind of earthly salvation. But Jesus reminds us that such efforts betray the truth: The God we serve in these moments is not the God who gives eternal life, but Mammon, the god of the here and now. To serve wealth is to live as though we can purchase our future; to serve God is to admit we cannot save ourselves but must surrender everything into his hands. 

This is the scandal of the Gospel: The one who seeks to save his life—by his own cleverness and on his own terms—will, ultimately, lose it. But the one who, like the Prodigal, aban-dons self-serving schemes will be found by the Father, welcomed home, clothed in grace, and adopted as his child. 

Beloved, this is the only treasure that endures: the wealth of heaven, poured graciously upon needy sinners in Jesus Christ our Lord. It cannot be earned, bought, or bartered. It is not a resource to be hoarded or manipulated. It is freely given to those who abandon the pursuit of self-interest and place their trust in their Master’s faithful provision.  

Finally, which character are you today? The Wayward Son who returns home to seek his Father’s grace and mercy, or the Wicked Steward who thinks money can buy happiness in this age and blessedness in the next? This morning I issue the same call Moses did: “Today I set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life” by choosing this day whom you will serve. AMEN.