Shrewd Wisdom

The Parable of the Dishonest Manager is the most confusing tale, until it's not...

Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Psalm 79:1-9
1 Timothy 2:1-7
Luke 16:1-13

 

©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen. 

 

Today’s Gospel is confusing. Some Church scholars call it the most perplexing parable Jesus ever told. The story of a dishonest manager leaves us scratching our heads—why on earth does Jesus seem to praise someone who’s been caught cheating his boss? 

 

But maybe the parable isn’t about dishonesty at all. Maybe, if we approach this not as a morality tale but as a spiritual invitation, we will discover this is a parable about urgency, risk, and who we choose to serve. Still don’t get what I’m saying, just keep listening.

 

Listen again to the details of the story. A wealthy landowner discovers that his steward—his business manager—has been wasting his resources. The man is about to be fired. He panics: “I’m not strong enough to dig, I’m too proud to beg. What am I going to do?”

 

So he comes up with a plan. He goes to the landowner’s debtors and reduces what they owe—slashing one man’s bill from a hundred jugs of oil to fifty, another’s from a hundred measures of wheat to eighty.

 

At first glance, it looks like more dishonesty. Surreptitiously cutting what’s owed his master, but here’s the interpretive key: most likely, the steward is cutting out his own commission, the markup he would normally keep for himself. He sacrifices his portion in order to win favor with others.

 

It’s a bold, risky move. He gives up money he could have held onto, but in doing so he secures relationships, reputation, and maybe even a future home when he’s unemployed.

 

And surprisingly, the landowner commends him. Not for being dishonest, but for being shrewd—for being clever enough to see that in a world ruled by money, it’s people and relationships that actually matter.

 

And then, Jesus turns to us. He has a word that is as clear now as it was 20 centuries ago! “No slave can serve two masters… You cannot serve God and Mammon.” That’s the heart of the passage. That’s the bottom line. You can only serve one.

 

Now, what is Mammon?

 

When Jesus says, “You cannot serve God and Mammon,” he’s not just using a generic word for money.

• Mammon comes from an Aramaic word (mamona), which meant wealth, riches, or property. Luke and Matthew, both preserve it into their Gospel accounts, as though the word carried more weight than just “money.”
• Over time, Mammon became personified. In Jewish and early Christian thought, it wasn’t just wealth—it was the false god of greed and possessions.
• By the Middle Ages, Mammon was imagined as a demon of avarice, showing up in literature like Paradise Lost by John Milton.

 

So, jumping back to our Gospel lesson, when Jesus says, “You cannot serve God and Mammon,” he’s pointing to something bigger than coins or bills. He’s naming money’s spiritual power. He’s exposing the way wealth can demand allegiance, whispering promises of security, identity, and control.

 

Mammon is money treated as ultimate.
Mammon is wealth turned into a master.
Mammon is what happens when money shifts from being a tool to being a god.

 

And here’s the thing: Mammon doesn’t have to make us villains. It’s allure is more subtle. Mammon just has to distract us. It simply has to keep us clinging tight, trusting more in what we have than in the God who provides. That’s why Jesus is so stark: you cannot serve both.

 

That’s not easy to hear, especially in our world. We live in a culture obsessed with wealth. It’s not enough just having enough, our society’s message is that you always need more—more savings, more investments, more possessions, more security.

 

And often, that accumulation doesn’t look like it comes at the expense of others. We do not see the hidden costs of cheap goods or unfair labor practices, we just see the package arrive in two days or less. I said we do not see this because I am guilty of this too. But the stark truth is, the way money flows in this world has consequences. Every purchase, every investment, every choice is connected.

 

Jesus reminds us: you cannot serve two masters. You can’t serve God and Mammon. You will love one and despise the other, cling to one and reject the other.

 

What do we do, then, as followers of Jesus in a world like ours?

 

I think we do exactly what the steward in the parable did—we take on some risk, and we choose to use money not as an end in itself but as a tool for something greater. We use money to serve God. We use money to serve our neighbors. We use money to create fountains of goodness in a world parched for grace.

 

The Church has language for this. We call it stewardship.

• First fruits giving—offering to God not what’s left over, but the very first portion of our income. It’s a way of saying, “God comes first. God is my master, not Mammon.” This doesn’t have to be to the Church—although we will use everything we can to build up this outpost of Christ’s Reign here in Hoover. Still, you can give to God’s work in this world through charities, institutions, nonprofits, or other organizations that are focused on revealing God’s grace here and now. Another aspect of Stewardship is…
• Proportional giving—deciding a percentage of our income to give, so that our generosity grows with our blessings. It’s not about guilt; it’s about rhythm, discipline, intentionality. This way of giving leads us into the truth that the more we give the more we get and the more we get the more we give. A final important attribute of Stewardship is…
• Sacrificial giving—choosing to give in a way that actually costs us something, that stretches us. Like the steward, we may cut into what would have been ours in order to make space for someone else to thrive. On the surface, this is so counter-cultural it might feel impossible. However, there are countless examples of spiritually and yes financially prosperous people who sacrifice for a time so that they can reap the reward in return. 

 

None of this is about fundraising for the Church. It’s about discipleship. So while this is about money, it’s about much more than that. It’s about how we invest our lives. It’s about choosing whom we serve. It’s about refusing to let money be our master and choosing instead to let God’s love shape how we use every resource entrusted to us.

 

There’s a saying that I shared not too many weeks ago, but it bears repeating: Love people and use things. Not the other way around.

Too often, we get that reversed. We use people and love things. We measure success by what we own, what we drive, what we bank, what we achieve—while neglecting the very relationships that bring life.

 

The steward in Jesus’ story, flawed as he was, realized that things couldn’t save him, but people could. God’s love in the hospitality of others could. The steward risked his own share of the profit to secure community. And Jesus says, in a way:

That’s the kind of cleverness my disciples need.

 

Be wise. Be shrewd. Don’t let Mammon own you. Use money to bless. Use money to reconcile. Use money to serve God’s kingdom.

 

So, what does that look like in practice? What is it to take Jesus seriously here? Maybe it starts by examining our lives and asking: Am I serving God or Mammon? Some other questions might sound like:

• When I choose to spend money, time, or other resources, is generosity part of the decision?
• When I look at my budget, does it reflect my faith, my values, and my trust in God?
• When I think about my wealth, do I see it as mine, or as God’s gift entrusted to me for the sake of others?

 

Maybe this way of following Jesus requires us taking a risk—like the steward—by giving away more than feels comfortable, trusting that God provides. Maybe it means simplifying, so that what we save on ourselves can flow into someone else’s life.

 

And maybe this way looks like remembering that stewardship isn’t just about money—it’s about our whole selves, our time, our talents, our hearts. It’s about asking daily: Whom do I serve?

 

The good news is this: when we choose to serve God, we’re not left empty-handed. We’re not abandoned to risk without promise. We are caught up into the abundance of God’s kingdom.

 

In that kingdom, generosity multiplies. In that kingdom, giving leads to receiving. In that kingdom, we discover that the very things we thought we were giving up become the channels through which God pours joy and life back into us.

 

The steward risked his commission to gain relationships. We risk serving God over Mammon—and we gain dwelling eternally with God, spiritual treasures in heaven, and lives filled with meaning and purpose here and now.

 

So, let’s be wise. Let’s be shrewd. Let’s be disciples who know that money is never neutral, but that it can be holy when placed in God’s hands.

 

Let’s serve God—not Mammon. Let’s use money to love neighbors, to heal wounds, to lift burdens, to shine Christ’s light.

 

Because in the end, it’s not money that saves us. It’s Christ. Christ, who gave everything—sacrificially, proportionally, first and last—to bring us home to God.

Amen.