Our American cousins use imperial units of measurement, while our European neighbours employ the metric system. We mixed both together and have created quite a mess. We buy milk and beer by pints, but fill up the car in litres, only to measure the vehicle’s efficiency in miles per gallon. We buy food by the kilogram, but we measure ourselves in stones, pounds, feet, and inches. Once, a friend of mine measured a storage room we were converting into a guest bedroom and concluded that two single beds would fit in comfortably. After assembling the first bed, I realised that he must have used the imperial system to measure the room, but the metric one to buy the beds. The latter would only fit in the room if their potential users could float to them. The blame was placed squarely on the measuring tape, scaled in both imperial and metric units. Nevertheless, whether you use one system or the other, you can be sure that any measurements you take will be consistent across the world because both systems are clearly defined, and the tools and instruments are properly calibrated and, in the case of professional use, certified. We take it for granted, but this is a relatively modern invention. For most of human history, the systems used to measure things have been highly localised, inconsistent and open to abuse and exploitation, as testified in today’s first reading: “we may make the ephah small and the shekel great.” The first was a measure of capacity, and the other of weight. By changing them a little, the sellers could sell a little less of their wares for the same price, a practice employed in recent years by confectionery producers and nicknamed “shrinkflation”. Although only a tiny fraction of an individual transaction, such cuts produce huge profits when scaled up. In today’s first reading, the prophet Amos unequivocally condemned such practices by greedy merchants, who took every opportunity to swindle their customers and exploit those in a weak social position.
To say that the parable in today’s gospel lacks such clarity is to say nothing; it seems to commend and condone dishonesty and fraud. The main character, a rich man’s wealth manager, made dubious deals to his master’s detriment, seemingly losing him fifty and twenty per cent of the olive oil and wheat, respectively. Or perhaps the manager amended his previously fishy deals, cutting his illegitimate commission to gain the debtors’ gratitude. We would expect harsh punishment meted out by the defrauded master, but astonishingly, “the master commended the dishonest manager” for his actions. There’s uncertainty whether “the master” in this sentence referred to the rich man or to Jesus; either way, such commendation is incomprehensible. Having researched the parable quite extensively, I discovered that expert biblical scholars agree on one thing only: that there isn’t any fully satisfactory explanation of the parable. However, there is one about why the parable seems morally messed up. It’s a combination of a few factors.
The first one is the specific culture of doing business in the region in question, naturally familiar to the original audience but lost to us centuries later and thousands of miles away. The second factor is the spectacularly convoluted process of how the final biblical texts were created. Due to high levels of illiteracy combined with expensive writing materials, stories were most often passed on by word of mouth, told rather than read. Each retelling added or removed details, embellished or simplified the story, offered additional explanations or eliminated seemingly unimportant details. Eventually, the story would be recorded in written form, but this did not stop the evolution of the text. Until the invention of the printing press by Mr Gutenberg in the 15th century, texts were copied by hand. It was an arduous process, with mistakes made due to difficult working conditions or fatigue, as well as some deliberate, well-meant changes made by scribes. My fingers are slower than my mind, and sometimes I miss a word in a sentence while writing. Though the sentence remains grammatically correct and thus undetected by the computer dictionary, such a minor omission can sometimes completely change the meaning of the sentence. I make such silly mistakes, despite having access to wonderful modern technology. Imagine how much harder it must have been for scribes working long hours in poorly lit rooms with primitive writing tools.
Having said that, should we conclude that the parable has no value to us because it lacks moral clarity? Not necessarily. While we should avoid drawing any justification from it, should we be tempted to deal dishonestly or fraudulently with others, the parable offers us an intriguing and practical lesson. The key phrase is Jesus’ summary of the parable: “the sons of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than the sons of light.” One plausible interpretation is that the manager created the reputation of generosity for his master, which he would not want to counter. At the same time, he earned the gratitude of the debtors for himself. Jesus’ words seem to support this interpretation: “I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings.” Sometimes Christians are tempted to take the moral high ground rigidly and inflexibly. When this happens, those who do not meet our high standards are often looked down upon, more harshly judged, or even scorned. This was the attitude of the Pharisees, and Jesus rejected it many times. I have never met anyone driven to genuine repentance and conversion by being berated, scolded or despised for their immoral choices or sinful lifestyle. Such treatment is the surest way to put people off and makes fulfilling our mission more difficult. “God our Saviour, […] desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth,” declared St Paul in today’s second reading. “The knowledge of the truth” is the final destination of everyone’s spiritual journey, not its starting point. To get others there, sometimes we have to hold the proverbial nose and deal charitably with people as they are, rather than as we would wish them to be. Even if we don’t win them as friends, at least we won’t deliberately turn them into foes.
Image by alissandra kim from Pixabay
