Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 20C)

September 18, 2022

Text: Luke 16:1-15

            The fact is, the steward had wasted what the master had entrusted to him, his money, his possessions.  There was no denying it.  The master had been generous, and given the steward broad freedom.  Though everything ultimately belonged to the master, the steward, for all practical purposes, could count it as his own.  It was a sacred charge.  The steward… and I prefer the word “steward” over “manager,” as our ESV has it…  He is not simply a manager of assets and liabilities, of business transactions, but one who is in relationship with the master, enjoys his confidence, one to whom the master entrusts the care and cultivation of his entire estate, and all who depend on him.  This is probably a sharecropping situation, and that is to say, the master is the lord of a manor, and any number of tenants farm his land, paying their rent by giving him a share of their crops.  So the steward is entrusted, not only with money and stuff, but with people. 

            Now, one can understand the temptation.  The steward was in such a position of authority, that in any matter dealing with the household, the finances, the land, or the produce of the land… in all the things belonging to the master, the steward’s word was as good as though the master had spoken it.  And somewhere along the line, the steward ceased to think of the things entrusted to him as the master’s things, and he began to think of them as his own things.  And all at once, he ceased to regard the master as his master, and the things, the money, the possessions, the mammon, became his master.  For you cannot serve two masters.  Either you will hate the one and love the other.  Or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. 

            Jesus doesn’t tell us the nature of the waste.  Was the steward spending the master’s money for his own comforts and amusements?  Was he overcharging the tenants and keeping the excess for himself?  Or had he simply allowed things to slip, the equipment and the estate to fall into disrepair, neglected to keep up on the books, the debits, the receipts?  Whatever the case, he had broken the master’s trust.  He had been unfaithful.  And now he cannot be the steward anymore.

            What will he do?  Life is simply impossible apart from the master.  He isn’t strong enough to dig.  That is, he is incapable of laboring, doing the work it would take to preserve his life.  And he is ashamed to beg.  The charity of others won’t save him.  Now, he could attempt to justify himself before the master, claim that he is more righteous than the master thinks he is, show the master all the good things he has done, or compare the quality of his stewardship with the inferior work of others.  But, confronted as he is by his transgressions, his wasting the master’s possessions, it is clear that self-justification won’t save him, either. 

            But one thing will, and he knows it.  And you might miss it in the story, if you aren’t careful.  If there is one thing he can bank on, one thing in all of life he can be certain and sure of, it is the master’s mercy.  “Before I turn in the ledger, and before the news spreads of my termination, I’ll make one last round among the tenants.  And I’ll cut their debts.  I’ll forgive them.  Quick, take the hundred measures of oil you owe, and cut it in half.  Take the hundred measures of wheat, and lop off twenty percent.”  And see, this is not just so the people will like the steward and take his side in the matter, or take him into their homes when he is destitute, although it will have that effect, and he is very shrewd in this way.  But even more, it will reflect well upon the master.  The people will think the master commanded the steward to forgive their debts.  And they will thank and praise the master.  They will love the master, and be devoted to the master.

            And the master commends him.  Not because of his dishonesty.  Understand that.  But because the steward was shrewd.  Because he came to his senses, and used the master’s possessions, not as masters themselves, to be served, but as means graciously given by the master, to accomplish the master’s ends, and in that way, to prosper the steward as well, and the people in the steward’s care.  The steward had faith in the master, and in his compassion.  And he acted accordingly.  That is what is commended.  As it turns out, mercy is precisely the investment the master desired the steward to make with his possessions all along.  For the master is merciful.  That is who he is.  Therefore, employing his wealth in mercy is never a waste.

            This is how we know the parables are not, as you’ve been told, “earthly stories with a heavenly meaning.”  They are not fables that end in a moral.  The parables are stories that are out of this world.  They are entirely counterintuitive.  They go against our every instinct.  What earthly master would approve of his steward letting his debtors off the hook?  Who could run a business that way?  The parables show us, in no uncertain terms, that God is not like us.  His ways are higher than our ways.  His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. 

            The master in the parable is, of course, God.  The tenants, the debtors, are our brothers and sisters in Christ.  But who is the steward? 

            You are, beloved.  You are. 

            God has given you so much.  Generously.  Freely.  Your body and soul, eyes, ears, and all your members, your reason, and all your senses, and He still takes care of them.  Clothing and shoes, food and drink, house and home, family… perhaps a spouse and children, parents, siblings, extended family… Employment.  The means to make a living.  Money.  Friends.  Community.  All that you need to support this body and life… and more!  He defends you against all danger.  He guards and protects you from all evil.  Only out of fatherly, divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in you.  And it is a sacred trust.  For all this… with all this… it is your duty to thank and praise, serve and obey Him.  See, it all belongs, ultimately, to Him.  But for all practical purposes, you can count these things as your own.  He gives them for you to steward… to use, yes, and even to enjoy (in fact, God takes great delight in your enjoying them)… but to care for and cultivate, to invest for the good of God’s Kingdom, and the benefit of His people.  And in this way, you, yourself, will prosper, as well as all the people God entrusts to your care. 

            But how would it be if God suddenly called you up to examine the ledger?  Have you been a good steward?  Always?  With everything?  Have you wasted what God has entrusted to you?  Have you blown it all on your own comforts and amusements, to the neglect of God’s Kingdom and people, or even to their detriment?  Have you been selfish and greedy?  Perhaps even cheated your neighbor, overcharged, sold inferior goods, stolen, been negligent or lazy at work, lied on your tax returns?  Have you hoarded things up?  Neglected your duties?  Have you abused your power and authority over others?  Neglected your neighbor?  Have you seen your neighbor in need, and told him to be warmed and filled, but otherwise passed by in indifference (James 2:15-16)?  It happens infinite ways, and all the time in our sad sack of flesh.  We cease to regard God as our Master.  Instead, money, possessions, stuff… Mammon, becomes our master, our idol.  And you cannot serve two masters.  You cannot serve two gods.  Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you’ll be devoted to the one and despise the other.  You cannot serve God and Mammon. 

            When God examines the ledger, as He has, and as He will do publicly on the Day of Judgment, you, in and of yourself, will be found wanting.  And you can’t be God’s steward if you are found wanting. 

            So, what can you do?  Life is simply impossible apart from the Master, apart from God, who gives life, and who is Life.  You aren’t strong enough to dig; that is, to do enough works to dig your way out of transgression, and into God’s good graces.  It would do you no good to beg.  The charity of others cannot save you.  And, self-justification?  Well, you could try that, pleading that you’re basically a good person, that you’re faithful most of the time, with most of your stuff (really though?), that you do your best, especially in comparison with others.  But it didn’t work for the Pharisees, and it won’t work for you.  It won’t save you.

            But there is one thing that will, and you know it.  It is the Master’s mercy.  It is the Master’s Son, Mercy Incarnate, our Lord Jesus Christ.  If there is one thing you can bank on, one thing you can be certain and sure of, in this life, and the life to come, it is the Master’s mercy in Jesus Christ. 

            In fact, you can count on it for yourself, first.  Confess the waste.  Confess your unfaithfulness.  Don’t justify yourself.  And don’t look for a plan B.  Be honest with yourself.  And be honest with God.  This may not be explicit in the parable, but at no point does the steward deny that he has transgressed.  So, just say it.  You know what God will do.  What He does for you continually.  “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9; ESV).  He will forgive you, for Jesus’ sake, on account of His sin-atoning death on the cross.  He will restore you, enlivening you with the life of Jesus, who is risen from the dead, and with His Holy Spirit, so that you can continue in the stewardship. 

            And then, He will give you to take all the grace and mercy He has poured out upon you, and pour it out on others.  Spend it on others.  Mercy toward others.  It is never a waste.  Forgive others their debts, their sins against you.  Not just 50%, or 20%, but 100%, as God, in Christ, has forgiven you.  You’ll find it frees you as much as it frees others.  And tell them about the 100% debt forgiveness they have before God in Christ.  So that they will believe, and be saved, and welcome you into the eternal dwellings on that great Day.  Spend your money, your time, your effort, in mercy toward your neighbor.  Take care of your family, your congregation, your community, the widow, the orphan, the stranger among you, with all that God has given you.  That’s why He gave it to you.  And it really belongs to Him anyway, remember.  Be generous.  Be merciful.  Enjoy it, yes, of course.  But much of the joy is in giving it away.  Be a conduit of God’s unfailing mercy.  You can bank on this: His mercy for you will not run out.  In fact, what will He do?  He will commend you for your shrewdness.  For recognizing that money and stuff are not your masters, but means God has graciously given you to accomplish His ends, advance His Kingdom, and prosper you and all who are around you.

            The fact is, you have wasted much of what the Master has given you.  But Christ has redeemed it.  And Christ has redeemed you.  Christ is the Good Steward.  And He gives you to be His under-steward.  And what a privilege.  Serve Mammon, and you lose Christ.  Serve Christ, and Mammon will serve you.  And it will serve Him through you.  Mammon will be unseated as an idol.  And Jesus Christ will be all in all.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.              

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19C)

September 11, 2022

Text: Luke 15:1-10

            At the conclusion of our Holy Gospel last week, in the words directly preceding our text this morning, our Lord Jesus bids, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear” (Luke 14:35; ESV).  Now, you know that this is not merely an admonition to listen carefully to the Savior’s Words, though it certainly is that.  But it is, more importantly, the giving of the gift.  The same Lord who said, “Let there be light,” and there was light (Gen. 1:3), now says, “let him hear,” and there is hearing of God’s Word in faith.  That is how God’s almighty, creative Word… how Jesus’ Word… works.  It does what it says.  Now, what happens in the very next verse, the first verse of our Holy Gospel this morning?  The “tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to” what?... “hear him” (Luke 15:1; emphasis added).  The Lord has given a gift to, of all people, tax collectors… government bureaucrats, traitors to the nation (and to God!) who routinely enrich themselves by their collusion with Caesar and the Romans… and sinners… not just the “we’re all sinners” variety of sinner, but those people whose reputations are tarnished by significant and public moral failings, adulterers, prostitutes, drunks, cheaters, the crude and the cruel.  You know the type.  Those who don’t belong in the company of Pharisees and “good Christian folk.”  To these people, Jesus gives ears to hear.  And they draw near to Him.  And Jesus actually receives them, and even eats with them. 

            And it’s a scandal!  It’s a scandal such that the Pharisees grumble.  “This man receives sinners and eats with them” (v. 2).  The Pharisees, now… think about who they are.  True Israelites.  Bible believers.  The conservatives of the Jewish religion.  Unlike the Sadducees, who are the liberal mainline Protestants of Judaism, the Pharisees believe and confess that the Hebrew Scriptures, in their totality, and in every individual part, are God’s inspired and inerrant Word.  They believe and confess God’s direct involvement in their daily lives, the spiritual world, the soul, angels and demons, the afterlife, and, perhaps most significantly, the resurrection of the dead.  And this is to say, they had already been given ears to hear.  God gave them ears to hear.  They are Covenant people.  Circumcised on the 8^th day.  Synagogue every Sabbath.  They know the Scriptures.  They keep the Scriptures, meticulously.  Every jot and tittle.  And I want you to understand, this is all good.  All of this reflects well on the Pharisees. 

            But they fall flat on the most important point.  When it comes to Jesus, and their great need for salvation in Him, and, yes, even for morally upstanding Pharisees, the forgiveness of sins only He can give, the Pharisees have plugged their ears.  They have ears, but they will not hear.  In fact, who can hear over their grumbling?  And in this, aren’t they just like their ancestors in the wilderness, the children of Israel?  God gives a gift, totally by grace, apart from any merit or worthiness on their part.  Manna every morning.  Quail in the evening.  Water from the rock.  Deliverance from slavery in Egypt.  Victory over their enemies.  For forty years, their clothes do not wear out, and their feet do not swell.  And how do the Israelites respond?  With rejoicing?  Thanksgiving and praise to God?  No.  They grumble.  And they want to go back.

            Just like the Pharisees and scribes in our text.  They grumble.  The Greek word (much like the English word) is onomatopoetic (that’s a high falutin’ term that means the word sounds like the thing it indicates).  To grumble, in Greek, is γογγύζω.  You can hear it, can’t you, the grumbling?... γογγύζω, γογγύζω… grumble, grumble, grumble…  About what?  God’s grace.  His unmerited favor.  For sinners.  A grace they believe they do not need, because they think they are righteous in and of themselves, by their own works, by their meticulous keeping of the Law, and especially in comparison with these obvious sinners who are drawing near to Jesus and sitting at Table with Him.  The Pharisees are not drawing near to Jesus.  They are drawing away.  Away from Jesus.  In rejection and unbelief.  The sins that are plugging their ears to Jesus’ gracious words are pride, despising their neighbors (in other words, lovelessness), and above all, self-justification… which always rejects the justification only Jesus can give.

            Now, Jesus… His whole business is the justification of sinners.  It is His whole reason for coming in our flesh.  He is absolutely consumed with it.  He’s obsessed.  In fact, He is just the kind of Shepherd who would leave the 99 and go after the lost one until He finds it.  And when He finds it, He lays it on His shoulders rejoicing.  He rescues His sheep, brings it home, feeds it, waters it, binds up its wounds, and throws a party.  And all heaven joins in!  There is more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents, than over 99 righteous persons who need no repentance.  Of course, there are no such persons who need no repentance.  That’s just what the Pharisees miss.  That’s just what too many of us, all too often, miss.  It plugs our ears, so that we cannot hear.

            Yes, when Jesus goes after the lost one, He is going after the tax collectors, the adulterers, the prostitutes, the drunks, the cheaters, the crude and the cruel.  But He’s also going after the Pharisees and scribes, if only they would stop dancing around with their ears plugged, singing γογγύζω, γογγύζω. 

            And He is even going after Bible-believing, confessional Missouri-Synod Lutherans who grumble, in spite of God’s great grace to them, and even because of God’s great grace to them and to others. 

            Yes, believe it or not, He is even going after Bible-believing, confessional Missouri-Synod pastors, who, believe me, grumble with the best of the Israelites and Pharisees. 

            We grumble because of all God’s gifts He showers down upon us freely, on account of Christ. 

            We grumble because those people over there, especially that guy, after all he has done… you know the one… they don’t deserve God’s grace. 

            And we grumble because, frankly Lord, I deserve better from You… can you imagine?!  But that’s what we say when we grumble!  And that’s why Jesus has to come after us. 

            And He does.  All the way down into the valley of the shadow of death.  He lays us on His shoulders and carries us up Golgotha.  We are His cross.  We are His suffering.  We are His death.  We greedy, adulterous, gluttonous, drunken, crude and cruel, loveless, prideful, self-righteous snobs… are beloved sheep of the Good Shepherd… who lays down His life for the sheep.  He is crucified, dead and buried, to atone for our sins.  For us!  And then He gets up again and throws a party.  Rejoice!  Jesus is risen from the dead.  Take, eat; this is My Body.  Take, drink; this is My Blood.  Given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins. 

            What pride infects you, what self-justifications do you make, who do you despise and what grudges do you hold, that you are kept from hearing these gracious, life-giving Words?  What do you grumble about?  I know you do.  I certainly do.  Repent of all of that.  And rejoice!  With angels and archangels and with all the company of heaven.  Jesus sinners doth receive.  He does not receive those who insist on their own righteousness, thank you very much.  He receives sinners, and only sinners, who are justified by His blood and death and resurrection, righteous, not with their own righteousness, but with His.  And that means you.  And it also means them.  You know… them.

            Which brings us to the woman searching for the lost coin.  I take her to be the Church, the Bride of Christ.  She does what her Bridegroom, the Good Shepherd, does.  She goes after the lost.  The ten silver coins are literally ten drachmas, a drachma being a day’s wage.  So, this is not some nickel she dropped between the cushions of the couch.  This is significant money.  And the ten coins are her dowry, strung together as a headdress for her to wear on her wedding day, ten days’ wages to be saved up and treasured for a rainy day.  The coins are those individuals the Church is given to treasure.  That is to say, you and me.  When one of the coins falls away lost, what does Lady Church do?  She lights a lamp… and I take that to be the preaching of God’s Word, which is a lamp to our feet, and a light to our path (Ps. 119:105)… and she sweeps the house until she finds it.  That is to say, the Church, which is all of us together, collectively, goes after any individual one of us who falls away lost.  With what?  With God’s Word.  We don’t grumble about the person (“Well, saw that one coming… I never thought he was a real Christian, anyway!”).  We pray for him.  We search him out.  We sweep the house until we find him.  And when we find him, we shine the light of God’s Word on him.  And we ask Jesus Christ graciously to give him ears and let him hear.  When he repents, we wipe away all the dust and grime of his sins by speaking Christ’s Absolution.  And we rejoice!  Rejoicing is the opposite of grumbling.  We rejoice that the lost one is restored.  That he is here, back with the Church where he belongs, by grace, just as we are.  And that means the party, the Feast!  Right here at the altar.  Rejoice with me.  What was lost has now been found. 

            The Pharisees and scribes speak the truth in spite of themselves: “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”  What tremendous Good News!  Jesus receives those guilty of the most heinous and scandalous sins, with full and free forgiveness, and a place, here, at the Table.  And He even receives Pharisees and Good Christian folk when they turn from their self-righteousness to the righteousness of Christ alone (just ask St. Paul).  That is to say, when they believe the Gospel… when you believe the Gospel: Jesus sinners doth receive.  Jesus receives even you.  Yes, you.  He who has ears to hear, let him hear.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.          

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost