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The Rev. Christopher Brdlik
September 23, 2007 --- Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

An old member of Calvary once told me that having a Labrador retriever is like living with a stomach with four legs. She told me that as I got my first Labrador. Now I have two. And she was right. My dogs were bred for good temperament, and I think they are well trained and well behaved. But sometimes that stomach just gets the better of them — say, on a walk in the woods or wandering around the yard — and there’s not much I can do but shout from a distance when they go after something taboo. This time of year acorns are a problem, a no-no for doggies, but they nibble them anyway. Or else it’s the banana peel or chicken bone found on the ground — I yell, “No!” but their tummies tell them to go ahead. With my dogs, their noses also get them into trouble. A favorite trick is to roll on a stinky spot on the forest floor, or to find a smelly, swampy puddle and go snorkeling in it. My entreaties from a distance cannot persuade the dogs from doing what they please. 

What I notice, however, is that if I move quickly toward the misbehaving dog, she promptly changes her behavior. The dog, upon noticing me closing the distance between us, will leave the forbidden fruit on the ground, or jump out of her swampy bath. Then the animal will sheepishly move toward me, tail wagging, eyes longing, looking for approval, affection and absolution. It’s hard for me to stay angry. Pretty soon we’re on good terms again. 

I am reasonably certain St. Augustine did not include the canine species in his doctrine of Original Sin. For sure, St. Francis saw all of God’s creatures needing to hear the preaching of the gospel (though birds, more notably in Francis’ case, than dogs). But if I want to understand what Jesus meant when he told this remarkable parable (Luke 16:1-13, The Unfaithful but Shrewd Servant), I think of the mixed relationship between human masters and domestic dogs. Now first of all remember the definition of a parable. Literary historians tell us a parable is a story with details from everyday life that has an unexpected twist. It is not an analogy or a fable or a myth. The everyday features of the story are meant to draw the listener in, to identify with the story. But the twist is meant to surprise, even to shock, in order to drive home an unexpected truth.  

So what is the truth of the parable of the unfaithful yet shrewd servant? Is it a truth about accounting practices, about business ethics? The story as told would hardly pass muster with Sarbanes/Oxley. In fact we object to its outcome with a simple, visceral reaction: it just doesn’t seem fair. But that’s the twist, to make the point. And the truth of the parable explains the mixed relationship we humans have with our divine master. When God seems distant or far off, we may conclude that what we do doesn’t matter, or doesn’t have consequences. So we follow our own way or indulge our preferences, even though we know better. But when God confronts us directly, we quickly react. We want to be in God’s good graces again. We do what it takes to get back on track. Gone is the headstrong streak of independence when we realize once more the nature of our own relationship with God. Kind of like my dogs. Of course we love each other. Of course they are faithful companions. But when their Labrador stomachs or snouts get the better of them, they need to relearn the contract between us. Then I have trouble staying angry with them. 

Jesus’ parable is also a story about stewardship, praising shrewdness, instead of innocence or naiveté. The things of this world are meant to be applied wisely. There is too often in religious circles a tendency toward Puritanism or abstemiousness that wants to believe material goods are unholy or polluted. This form of religion tries to shun wealth. In a sense it doesn’t know what to do about money. And it believes (rightfully so) that there is a danger in worshipping wealth, of becoming subservient to money. Yet that’s not exactly what Jesus taught. “You cannot serve God and wealth,” he said, and by that he meant make sure your wealth serves God. Use the material riches of this age to further the cause of the age to come. Apply your worldly benefits to ensure they enhance the eternal kingdom. This is what the servant did in the parable, and it is what it means to act shrewdly. It is shrewd or wise not to allow the pursuit of wealth to become so engrossing or all encompassing that it rules one’s life and one becomes a slave of money rather than a master of it. It is shrewd or wise to deal with money so that it is a servant of God: charity, philanthropy, generosity, shrewd stewardship. 

Let me leave you with one more point about the parable. I’ve been aware this summer of a number of reviews of a book titled The World Without Us. Written by a science journalist, it tells what would happen to the world if humans suddenly disappeared — our buildings, our fields, our climate. One thing he says: domestic dogs would not survive. Some would crossbreed with other canines. But most are too dependent on humans. Even the scavengers’ habits are not enough to keep them alive.  

Despite our own independence and our headstrong inclinations, we humans depend on God. It is shrewd for us to recognize how much we need God’s blessings. It’s not too late to act shrewdly in our daily life so that we measure up with God. But the time is now. Our Jewish brothers and sisters have just observed Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, when they reflect on the year past and plan for the year to come. It’s a time to measure shrewdly the state of their relationships with other people and therefore with God. Our Muslim friends are now observing Ramadan, the month of fasting and also a time of reflection about the state of affairs in one’s spiritual life. If spiritual shrewdness is something you’ve been lacking, it is not too late. But the time is now. What has God heard about you? Squandering blessings puts one in a dangerous place with the Master. But God does not want to be angry with us forever. Acting shrewdly with the bounty of this age unmixes the complicated relationship we have with God. It clarifies who is in charge, and puts us back on track. It reminds us how much we depend on a generous, forgiving God.

© copyright 2007, Christopher Brdlik

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