Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
~ The Gospel’s teachings on money can be challenging, even for someone like me who lives a vow of poverty. For the most part, we religious live a modest life. But by the standards of most of the world, we live with incredible abundance. In comparison to a family with bills, taxes, and debt, my Dominican brothers and I are quite comfortable. This is a paradox that many Christians face: how do we integrate our material security with a genuine call to follow Christ? The challenge can seem so difficult that we are tempted to stop trying to figure it out.
But in the Gospel of Luke, and in the reading we hear this weekend, Jesus tells us not to give up the effort. The parable of the unjust steward is not advice to be deceptive, but a prod to be shrewd and persistent when it comes to what truly matters. The steward schemed tirelessly for his earthly future; we are called to be just as diligent for the kingdom of heaven.
Luke provides clear guides to help us. First, money is for people, and its only proper use is in sharing. Furthermore, those who have a special claim on our sharing are the poor. This is an inescapable conclusion from Jesus’ teaching, echoing the prophets like Amos who criticized those who “trample upon the needy.” Christ warned of a fearsome fate for those who hoard their wealth while ignoring the suffering of others.
The second teaching is the moral drawn from the steward’s story: “No servant can serve two masters… You cannot give yourself to God and money.” The more we allow ourselves to be controlled by our possessions, the more we are likely to resent the Gospel—or the preacher—that challenges our attachments. Our attitudes toward the poor and our sense of security are the best indicators of whether we are good disciples.
I feel this challenge acutely when I encounter people on the street—those who might look lazy, dirty, or irresponsible. I don’t like the way I feel when they approach me. But then I see a glimpse of the truth in the actions of my friends. I have a friend in Chicago who, without overthinking it, always gives a little money to the people she meets. She isn’t solving world poverty or even the immediate problem of one person. She is simply reaching out to another human, someone broken and less blessed, and sharing something of what she has. Her response changed me.
Her simple act reminds me of something far more significant than my own discomfort. It reminds me of the call of the Gospels—the persistent prod not to give up on the poor, and not to give up on the small ways, however passing, that I might be the face of Christ to them.