01.18. Chapter 7. The Unjust Steward

Chapter 7.
The Unjust Steward Or, the Redeeming Power of Charity. And He said also unto His disciples: There was a certain rich man who had a steward; and the same was accused unto him as wasting his goods. And he called him, and said unto him, How is it that I hear this of thee? give an account of thy stewardship; for thou mayest be no longer steward. Then the steward said within himself, What shall I do, for my lord taketh away from me the stewardship? I cannot dig, to beg I am ashamed. I am resolved what to do, that when I am put out of the stewardship, they may receive me into their houses. So he called every one of his lord’s debtors, and said unto the first, How much owest thou unto my lord? And he said, An hundred baths of oil. And he said unto him, Take thy bill,[1] and sit down and write quickly fifty. Then to another he said, And thou, how much owest thou? And he said, An hundred cors of wheat. He saith to him, Take thy bill, and write fourscore. And the lord praised the unjust steward, because he had acted wisely for himself; for the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light. And I say unto you; Make to yourselves friends with[2] the mammon of unrighteousness; that when ye fail, (or it fails[3]), they may receive you into the everlasting tents.—Luk 16:1-9.

[1] Τὸ γράμμα in T. R.; τὰ γράμματα according to approved reading, the bond or voucher which showed the amount owed.

[2] ἐκ τοῦ Μαμωνᾶ, rendered ambiguously of in A. V.

[3] ἐκλἰπητε in T. R.; ἐκλίπη in some copies, and adopted by most critics. De Wette prefers the former. The introductory formula might seem to imply that this parable was spoken at the same time as that of the Prodigal Son contained in the preceding chapter. In reality, however, it does not necessarily imply, and ought not in the exposition to be assumed to imply, anything more than that to the mind of the Evangelist the two parables had some connection, some word, or thought-affinity, which made the one suggest the other, and led him to introduce both in the same part of his narrative. What the subjective connection was we can only conjecture; it might be very slight, for often a very insignificant point of contact suffices to bring the law of association into play. The link might be the simple circumstance that both parables refer to worldly goods, and especially to the way in which these are often abused by men. In each there is a prodigal who wastes substance, in the one case his own, in the other that of another man; and the act of wasting is described in both instances by the same term.[1] It is quite conceivable that so slender and external a tie might bind together the two parables in the Evangelist’s thought, and determine him, in absence of knowledge of the historical connection, to unite them in his story. It is probable, however, that they appeared to his view bound together by more intimate relations; by affinity in their general spirit and didactic drift not less than by their superficial features. At the least it may safely be assumed that he cannot have been conscious of any incongruity between the parables in these respects. He must have discerned even in this most unevangelic-looking parable of the Unjust Steward a vein of evangelic sentiment, which made it not unfit to stand beside that parable of the Prodigal Son in which the gracious aspect of Christ’s teaching is seen at its brightest. If so, then we too must try to pierce beneath the repulsive surface to the underlying stratum of Gospel truth. And we mean to make the attempt, and that in a spirit of good hope, not of despair. For we believe that in the whole of the section wherein, according to Renan, is to be found the great originality of Luke[2]—the fifteenth and sixteenth chapters—the evangelic tone prevails. To this extent at least we are prepared to go in opposition to another critic, who boldly affirms that the two chapters have absolutely nothing in common.[3] For we cannot regard Luke, with some, as a mere mechanical chronicler who placed side by side in his history materials of the most heterogeneous character drawn from his sources; in one chapter a section radiant with the light of divine love, in another a piece of cold Ebionitic morality, ascetic in tone and commonplace in thought.[4] The writer had religious sympathy with his subject, and was guided throughout, both in the selection and in the grouping of his materials, by a warm evangelic feeling. On this account we expect to find traces of that feeling and of that which justifies it even here, as also in the succeeding parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus. In saying so we readily acknowledge that there are difficulties to be surmounted. Among these we do not reckon the selection of an unprincipled agent to be the vehicle of instruction, for there are similar instances of the same sort[5] which show that our Lord in His parabolic teaching was wont to use great boldness and freedom in the application of that method of instruction, a fact which only gives to the doctrine taught enhanced value and piquancy in the esteem of all intelligent students. If a particular character was best fitted in other respects to convey the intended lesson, the mere lack of morality was not regarded as an objection to its introduction. The main difficulty in the way of one who would get to the evangelic heart of the parable is the apparently low level of the very moral lesson itself which the parable is employed to convey. It seems to be a lesson of mere prudence in the use of money with a view to the salvation of our souls in the next world. Such a low-toned, unheroic sentiment strikes one as un-Christlike, and if that were really all that was meant, we should feel strongly tempted to acquiesce in the verdict of Keim that such a gross morality of prudence never came from the lips of Jesus,[6] and to see in this parable a foreign element that had found its way into the Gospel from extra-canonical sources current in quarters where the genuine logia of Christ had undergone corruption, or been mixed up with apocryphal additions.[7] But we should be very slow indeed to adopt any such conclusion and we do not think the facts demand it; that is, we are persuaded that in this section of the evangelic narrative we are taught no mere morality of prudence, though the lesson may be put in prudential form, but something worthy of Him whose words were always like Himself—noble, generous, unworldly.

[1] διεσκόρπισεν, Luk 15:13; διασκορπίζων, Luk 16:1.

[2] ’Les Évangiles,’ p. 265.

[3] Reuss, ’Histoire Evangélique,’ 495.

[4] Pfleiderer regards this parable as Ebionitic in spirit, and cites it as illustrating the evangelist’s impartiality as an author in the use of his sources, of which he finds traces in Acts also. Vide ’Paulinismus, p. 499.

[5] Vide parables of Selfish Neighbour and Unjust Judge.

[6] ’Jesu von Nazara,’ ii. 401.

[7] So Hilgenfeld, Weizsäcker, Pfleiderer, &c. The parable seems to us to teach not one lesson but two, one general, the other particular; the general one a lesson of prudence in the use of temporal possessions with a view to eternal interests; the special one a lesson as to the way of using these possessions which most directly and surely tends to promote our eternal interests, viz. by the practice of kindness towards those who are destitute of this world’s goods. A prudent regard to the higher concerns of man, and beneficence towards the poor as a means to that end, such are the virtues which it seems the teacher’s aim to inculcate. Many commentators have failed to recognise the intention to teach a double lesson, and have virtually, though probably in many instances unconsciously, proceeded on the assumption that the interpreter had to make his choice between two mutually exclusive alternatives; the result being a multitude of interpretations not altogether erroneous, but partial and one-sided.[1] One class leans to the side of prudence, another to the side of beneficence, the fewest have clearly perceived that the two points of view are perfectly compatible, and ought to be combined in order to do justice to the thought and purpose of the Teacher. As was to be expected, the smaller number give the preference to the special lesson of beneficence, the tendency of commentators, as of men in general, being to side with the common-place in thought rather than with the original, with the mean in ethics rather than with the lofty. To the honourable band who in this case have obeyed the nobler instinct belong two men of princely rank among interpreters, Calvin and Olshausen. The Genevan divine opens his comments on the parable with this sentence: "The sum of this parable is that we should deal humanely and benignantly with our neighbours, that when we come to the tribunal of God the fruit of our liberality may return to us." It is the utterance of a man thoroughly imbued with the evangelic spirit of the Reformation, who, while zealous for faith as the instrument of justification, was not afraid to give love its due; he being no mere scholastic theologian, but a living Christian endowed with fresh religious intuitions, and quick to discern in Scripture whatever was in sympathy with the doctrine of grace. The more modern interpreter reechoes the sentiment of Calvin when, comparing the fifteenth and sixteenth chapters of Luke, he remarks, that what in the former is taught concerning the compassionate love of God, is in the latter exhibited as the duty of man in his surroundings. The view is significant in his case also, as an index of the close connection between the exegesis of Scripture and the life of the Church. For Olshausen also, like Calvin, was the child of a new time in which the evangelic intuition was once more restored, and Christian thought, delivered from the stupefying influence of dogmatism and the blinding influence of religious legalism, could with unveiled face and open eye see for itself the fulness of grace which was in Christ Jesus.

[1] Unger in his remarks on the parable adverts to this fact. That these two distinguished interpreters have given only a partial account of the didactic significance of our parable may perhaps be admitted. But, while defective in detail, their view is certainly right in tendency. If the duty of beneficence be not the only lesson of the parable it is certainly the chief lesson, that which gives to the parable its distinctive character, and must dominate the interpretation of the whole. We hope to show that with this key we can unlock the secret of the parabolic narration, and explain its most peculiar features. Another decided recommendation of this view is that it raises the moral tone of our Lord’s teaching clear above the low level of a vulgar religious utilitarianism. For with the practice of beneficence we get into the region of love, and there we get rid of self and prudential calculation. It is true, doubtless, that the motive to beneficence is made to assume the form of a calculation. The owner of worldly goods is advised to make friends therewith of the poor, because they in turn may be able to do him a friendly turn in the world beyond. But this will not perplex any one who remembers that the parabolic form of instruction does not afford scope for the play of the highest class of motives. It is essentially popular wisdom, and it is the way of that which aims at teaching the million to make action spring from homely motives. The prodigal is moved to return home by hunger; the host whose guests refuse to come to his feast invites the beggars to take their place from no interest in them, but to spite the first invited, and to prevent waste of the food prepared. So here, Jesus, applying His parable in the terms naturally suggested by it, bids His disciples be kind to the poor, to make sure their own admission into the eternal tents. This vulgar morality is meant to suggest the doctrines of a heroic morality. The method is of kin with the employment of bad characters to teach the lessons of wisdom. Both belong to the condescension involved in the parabolic form of instruction, and in that respect are in harmony with the genius of a revelation of grace. In all the above cases it is assumed as an axiom that the real motives are higher and purer than the ones suggested. If it were not so the action described would never be performed. Mere hunger would never bring the prodigal home. Mere anger would never lead any host to entertain the abjects of society. As little will mere self-interest lead a man to practise beneficence. Beneficence is not the product of the prudence, but the prudence is rather the product of the beneficence. A benignant spirit impels a man to do beneficent actions, and in that way, without being aware of it, or reflecting on it, he practises prudence with regard to his own eternal interest; secures for himself an abundant entrance into the everlasting tents after death; nay, does more than that, even brings into his soul now that blessedness which, just because it is the true life, is therefore eternal. With this preliminary glance at the moral import of the parable, we may now proceed to notice its more salient features.

First, we advert to the peculiar case supposed. It is that of a man occupying the position of a steward or factor to a person of wealth and rank who leaves the administration of his estate wholly in his servant’s hands,[1] and systematically abusing his trust according to reports which reach his master’s ears, insomuch that his summary dismissal has become inevitable. One naturally wonders that so objectionable a character should be selected as the vehicle of instruction. For though we may not insist that no bad men shall be employed to teach wisdom, we may reasonably lay it down as a rule that bad men should not be used if they can be dispensed with; that is, if good men will serve the purpose equally well, or even sufficiently well. Why, then, does Jesus oblige His scholars to make the acquaintance of so immoral and unedifying a character? The answer is, because He must find a man who is placed in a situation analogous to that which the moral lesson has in view. Now the situation contemplated by the moral lesson is that of men who look forward to the certain event of death, and who are exhorted in view of that event to make due preparation for what comes after. Such a situation suggests as its analogue in this world’s affairs the position of an employ? about to lose his place and be deprived of his income. A factor on the point of being deprived of his stewardship is a suitable emblem of a man about to be removed from this world by death. That being so, it is obvious that an unjust steward is more naturally introduced into the parable than a just one, for the simple reason that his misbehaviour is the natural explanation of the impending dismissal. Why should a faithful steward be removed from office? To conceive such a case were to sacrifice probability to a moral scruple.

[1] Un grand seigneur vivant dans la capitale, loin de ses terres dont il a remis l’administration à un intendant.—Godet.

Clearly then we must overcome our distaste for this unsavoury character and be content to learn wisdom even from him. But what can he teach us? Well, two things at least. One that dismissal, death, will certainly come; another, that some provision must be made for what is beyond. The first lesson we are taught by the simple fact that the master had resolved to put away his unfaithful servant, which is carefully indicated by the words, give an account of thy stewardship, for thou canst be no longer steward. The rendering of the account is not demanded as a means of enabling the employer to decide what to do. He has decided already; he is so satisfied that his agent has been utterly false to his trust. He expects him to play the knave even in this last act, and he calls for it more out of curiosity than with any hope of satisfaction. It is meet that the steward should wind up his affairs in that way, and therefore his master will have it so; and we may add, the Maker of the parable will have it so, because the story must go on, and the steward must have his opportunity of showing how he provides for the evil day. That provision has to be made against that day—the day of Dismissal—we are taught by the vivid picture of the steward realising the fact. He said within himself: "What am I to do? My lord taketh away my stewardship. I cannot dig; to beg I am ashamed." The future event is distinctly laid to heart, and the question what next deliberately, anxiously pondered, all possible courses being one after another weighed.[1] Thus would the Great Teacher have His hearers lay to heart their latter end, and consider solemnly and seriously how it will be with them thereafter. The steward’s soliloquy is not recorded merely for graphic effect, though it serves that end excellently, but to suggest the lesson, "go and do likewise." "Thou, too, must be dismissed," says Jesus to those who have ears to hear: "Think with thyself what thou canst do by way of providing against the fateful day." The meditations of the disgraced steward suggest rather gloomy thoughts as to the limited capacity of men to provide for the great future. "I cannot dig; to beg I am ashamed." He is too broken-down by debauchery, too effeminate in spirit to engage in honest toil, and he is too much of a gentleman to stoop to the trade of a beggar. If he is to live at all it must be in gentlemanly fashion: by cheating possibly, but by vulgar labour or by abject dependence on charity never. Is man so helpless with regard to eternity; unable either to work for heaven or to beg for it; too broken-down by sin to work out for himself salvation as the reward of righteousness; too proud to be dependent for righteousness on another? But we are running unawares into the vice of the spiritualisers, and must return to our parable.

[1] The mention of digging is natural as typical of agricultural labour with which the steward’s position has brought him mainly into contact So Lightfoot, ’Hor. Heb.’

Thus far the delineation serves the purpose of enforcing the lesson of prudence in providing against the day of death. What follows is to be understood in the light of the second, higher, lesson of the value of beneficence as a means towards that end. After depicting the steward engaged in rapt meditation on his approaching dismissal and the measures for ameliorating the evil consequences, Jesus represents him as at length forming his resolution. "I know what I will do," he exclaims as the bright idea strikes him.[1] "I have it at last." Then follows the explanation of his plan, which is in effect so to benefit the creditors of his lord in his account to be rendered that after his removal from office they will gladly do him the counter favour of receiving him into their houses, not as a beggar, but as one well entitled to the benefit, and therefore able to receive it without humiliation. The scheme rests on the simple principle that one good turn deserves another. It involves knavery as towards the creditor, but it involves beneficence as towards his debtors. And that is the reason why the steward is made to adopt this plan of helping himself; for the Speaker of the parable has it in view to teach a lesson of the worth of beneficence as a provision against the evil day. To make this point clear, let it be considered that the scheme of the disgraced factor was by no means the only possible one in the circumstances; he might, e. g., have required the various creditors to pay him the full sum specified in their bills while altering the figures, and then have gone to his lord and paid the sums due according to the amended accounts and pocketed the balance. This would have made provision for some time to come, if not for all time, and it would have made him more independent.[2] For after all there was something humiliating for one who had occupied his high position to be the guest of those beneath him in station, who had formerly feared him as their real master; passing from farm to farm as he tired of each host in turn, and probably each got tired of him, with the not impossible result of finding them eventually all wearied of their fastidious and moody guest. All this could not fail to pass through his mind, and to appear a serious drawback to the scheme, and to recommend some other course. It has indeed been suggested that the bills were leases, and that the change of the figures meant a change in the amount of the annual rental; in which case what he would have gained by the adoption of the other plan would have borne a very small proportion to the amount of money saved to the tenants by the transaction so viewed, that amount of course being the measure of their indebtedness to him.[3] But apart from the doubtfulness of the suggestion, it is open to the objection that if such was the nature of the transaction it is difficult to see why this great man need condescend to live under the roofs of meaner men as a homeless penniless dependent. Why not commute the advantage into a money payment, estimating the reduction of rent at a low rate which the tenants would be willing to pay, and which yet would realise over the whole a considerable sum, and having completed the nefarious business go his way, bidding good-bye to landlord and tenants alike? Obviously the plan actually adopted, however we interpret the alteration of the documents, is the one which suits the didactic purpose of the parable, the steward being made to appear a benefactor of the debtors without any pecuniary benefit to himself, because the aim of the narrative is to teach the value of beneficence as a passport into the eternal habitations.

[1] ἔγνων, implying not habitual knowledge, but a conclusion at length arrived at as the result of consideration. "Not = ἔγνωκα, which would be, ’I know, as part of my stock of knowledge, I am well aware,’—but implying, ’I have just arrived at the knowledge, an idea has just struck me, I have a plan.’"—Alford. Lange also puts the matter well; his account of the steward’s soliloquy altogether is good. He remarks that the representation is very graphic if we regard the word as spoken ex abrupto; "What shall I do...? for my lord is going to deprive me of my office:... dig I can’t, to beg I am ashamed... εὕρηκα. I know, I have found out what I must do."

[2] The values due to the master were large, a bath being equal to nearly ten gallons, and the cor about fourteen bushels.

[3] Bailey, ’Exposition of the Parables of our Lord,’ advocates this view. As helping us to understand more fully in what respect Jesus would have His hearers regard the steward as exemplary, it is important to note not only the general nature of his plan, but the manner in which it is executed. In this connection the actor in the parable exhibits certain valuable qualities of character well worthy of imitation, decision, self-collectedness, energy, promptitude, tact. Having once resolved what to do, he proceeds without hesitation to carry out his scheme undisturbed by any scruple of conscience or fear of failure. He is cool enough to perceive where the risks of miscarriage lie, and he adopts the mode of procedure best fitted to obviate them. He calls all the debtors together not merely to save time and trouble, but that all may be implicated and none may mar the plot by becoming informer.[1] The company assembled, he proceeds to business with a briskness and spirit meant to be imposing and calculated to insure co-operation. With the documents in hand he asks each debtor in turn the amount of his obligation, and handing him his bill, in a tone of authority instructs him what to do: Sit down and write quickly such and such an amount. Nor does he give to all the same instructions. Herein he shows his tact and savoir faire. Diverse reasons have been suggested for the variation in the remission. One suggests his knowledge of the circumstances of each debtor;[2] another his idea of the varying degrees of dishonesty the consciences of the different debtors could stand;[3] a third his desire to show his power to do as he pleased, and so strengthen the feeling of obligation to himself.[4] According to a fourth interpreter the reductions were in accordance with the facts of each case. This suggestion is based on the assumption that fifty and eighty were the amounts really due to the master, and that the higher numbers indicated a fraudulent over-estimate of the indebtedness by the unscrupulous agent.[5] According to this view the steward had been a sinner against the debtors rather than against his employer. The effect of the transaction described in the parable on this hypothesis was to make the debtors under obligation to the steward by what they supposed to be a reduction of their debt, and at the same time to gain credit for him with his master by a correspondence between the bills as altered and the amounts previously reported verbally by him. This explanation has little to recommend it except that it makes the praise bestowed by the lord on his unfaithful servant less difficult to comprehend, and also exhibits the steward as in a way repenting, and by a return to honesty fitting himself to be with less impropriety the vehicle of moral instruction.

[1] So Alford.

[2] So Alford.

[3] So Hofmann.

[4] So Goebel.

[5] So Lange.

Probably the best explanation is to be found in the lordly temper of the man. He adopts the arbitrary line as the most imposing. It is not the power of his position as the real master that he calculates on, but rather the power of an imperious bearing. To give all the same reduction would be to act under law to a method, like ordinary men; to remit arbitrarily, and as whimsical impulse dictates, is to play the part of a magnifico, which suits his taste, and is not less likely to succeed. The world is largely governed by show, and many admire arbitrariness as princely, more than equity, which by comparison seems vulgar. The steward knew human nature, and acted accordingly. The scheme is carried out, and the news of it have reached the employer’s ears. How does he receive the report? The lord praised his unjust steward. This alleged praise has scandalised and perplexed commentators, and put them to shifts to explain it, or rather explain it away. The most plausible method of doing so is to suggest that the praise must be regarded from the point of view of the narrator.[1] Jesus is going to use the story for a purpose which requires that the conduct of the steward should be in some respects praiseworthy; therefore it is represented as being actually praised by the injured employer, though in reality it could hardly have been. It would compromise the natural probability of the parable were we to have recourse to this expedient for getting rid of the difficulty. But it is really not necessary. The praise is after all not so unlikely as it seems. At first sight, no doubt, it appears as if an outburst of anger at this new act of villainy had been much more appropriate. But in truth the stage of anger is past. The master has had his bitter hours over the unfaithfulness of his servant, and these have issued in a determination to be rid of him. That resolution once formed, the master will not be troubled with any further vexation. He expects doubtless additional evidence of knavery before he is done with the unprincipled man. But then he does expect it, and has discounted it already. The exposure, when it comes, will awaken no further emotions of a painful kind. Any feeling that may be called forth will be of the nature of amusement. Henceforth the degraded steward will be a kind of psychological study to him. He will be curious to know just what the fellow will do in his extremity. And if the knave show talent, dexterity, he will be quite able to appreciate it, and in the mood even to bestow on it a sort of humorous laudation. Of course the praise will have a noticeable peculiarity of tone. You are not to imagine the master setting himself seriously to pronounce a eulogy on his ex-steward; that were a very prosaic supposition. The lord looks, says Calvin, not to the person but to the deed itself. There is humour in the situation, and the praise must be understood cum grano salis. The now completed career and the character of the dismissed servant lie in full view before his lord’s eye. The picture presents a strange mixture of prodigality, magnificence, cleverness, and unscrupulousness, not without its fascination, and exciting in the beholder mixed feelings of abhorrence and admiration. In the last act of the drama the hero displays all his qualities, bad and good. How natural that the exhibition should extort from the spectator, even though he be one who has suffered injury at his hand, such expressions of approbation as men are wont to use with reference to skill, ability, and tact, dissociated from principle. One does not need to be a "man of the world" in order to utter or appreciate such laudatory phrases;[2] nothing more is required than the power to enjoy the display of character.

[1] So Reuss.

[2] Alford and others remark that the master is a man of the world also, to account for the praise of a clever but unprincipled person. With the praise bestowed on his unrighteous servant the parable ends; all that follows is application. The moral interpretation begins properly at the ninth verse with the solemn formula—And I say unto you. The last clause of the preceding verse may be regarded as a parenthesis explanatory of the term φρονίμως, employed to describe the action of the steward. One might be tempted to regard it as a reflection inserted by the Evangelist, similar to that which occurs in the discourse of Jesus, recorded in the seventh chapter of his Gospel.[1] It has somewhat the tone of those explanatory enlargements by which primitive disciples might naturally unfold for the edification of themselves and their brethren the latent meaning of Christ’s pregnant words; whereof we have a sample in the addition of the words, unto repentance, in the saying, I came not to call the righteous, but sinners. For the reflection, though true and important, is not absolutely indispensable. Without it we could understand what it was that the lord in the parable praised, and how it came to pass that there was that in his servant which provoked his approbation. We know that there is such a thing as practical skill and talent leading to success in life, apart from principle; and we know, moreover, that very often most unprincipled men are exceptionally endowed with such talent Such knowledge is a part of the ethical lore which men learn by observation. It would not therefore have been surprising if Christ had left the truth in question unexpressed, to be supplied by the intelligence of His hearers. It is, however, on the other hand, by no means incredible that our Lord did wind up the parabolic narrative with the observation, that "the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light." It is, as Bengel remarks, a sublime sentence most worthy of the celestial mouth of Jesus Christ![2] It is a weighty truth expressed in choice language. The title bestowed on those who are not of this world is especially noteworthy. It does full justice to their superior dignity Children of the light! How much better at the worst to belong to the goodly company than to possess in the highest degree the talent which conducts to worldly success, and by the use thereof to gain a place among the chief men of the world! Children of the light, having spiritual insight into the relative worth and unworth of things, and therefore choosing the better part which shall not be taken away! Children of the light, walking in the sunshine of holiness, and having no fellowship with the works of darkness! Yet taking the children of the light at their best, how inferior they are in the talent for getting on as compared with the world’s children! One may say, the more they are children of the light, the less of that talent they possess. On the other hand, it is the talent of the children of the world. The world is their portion, and to know the art of advancing their own interest in the struggle of life with their own kind is their study, and their frequent attainment. Thus understood, the apophthegm conveys no censure on the children of the light for not being more like the children of the world. The purpose is not to blame the former for the want of a certain quality, but to advert to the fact of the latter possessing it in a signal degree. "Praised him for his prudence; for his prudence, I say, for a prudent and skilful prosecution of self-interest is a notable characteristic of the men of the world; it is the thing which distinguishes them as compared with the children of light." If blame be intended, then we must give the saying another turn, and understand it thus: "The children of the world show more skill in the prosecution of their worldly interest (εἰς τὴν νενεὰν τὴν ἑαυτῶν—in relation to worldly men and temporal interests) than the children of light exhibit in relation to their eternal interests." The objection to this view is, that it is true only in proportion as men are not children of the light. There are multitudes of so-called children of the light who are much more wise with regard to temporal than to eternal interests. But are they children of the light at all? Would Jesus have called them by that dignified name? Is not the true child of light one who is wise for eternity, and a fool for this world? And yet there are degrees of light: there are those who walk wholly in the day and worthily of their vocation, seeking in all things the higher goods of life, and measuring the value of all things by their bearing on the health of the spirit. There are others who walk in the moonlight, seeing dimly, groping after the summum bonum, aspiring to eternal life, candidates for initiation rather than epopts, and not well instructed as to what most tends to promote their eternal interest. We must suppose that Jesus has in view these specially. The advice which follows is such as suits them. If such are meant then we may see in the application to them of the epithet, ’children of the light,’ an evidence at once of the charity and of the wisdom of Jesus—of His charity in conferring a title hardly deserved; of His wisdom in conveying through the use of the title an indirect admonition. "Children of light, I call you: such is your ideal position; make it a practical reality by acting on the advice I proceed to give to you."

[1] Luk 7:29-30.

[2] Sublimis est hæc sententia, cœlesti ore Iesu Christi dignissima. That advice is obviously expressed, and with great felicity, in terms suggested by the parable. The summum bonum is conceived of eschatologically as a state of felicity entered upon at death corresponding to the provision made for his well-being by the steward after his dismissal from office. Death is referred to in very peculiar terms: that when ye fail, or when it, your worldly good, fails you—for it is difficult to decide between the two readings. The weight of diplomatic and critical authority is in favour of ἐκλίπη, but the other reading given in the received text seems to sympathise best with the parabolic representation. Both forms of expression are in accordance with usage, the verb being employed to denote death in the Septuagint, as in Gen 25:8, with reference to the decease of Abraham, and the corresponding adjective being applied to riches in this same Gospel.[1] Our own preference is decidedly for the old reading as the more impressive and poetical, as also more in keeping with the connection of thought. That when ye fail, when ye suffer the last eclipse and bankruptcy of life—how significant and pathetic the allusion!—how unmistakable, too, in this respect contrasting with the other form of expression, which does not shut us up to death as the only possible interpretation, for riches may fail before death overtakes us.

[1] θησαυρὸν ἁνίκλειπτον: Luk 12:33.

Still more striking are the terms in which the future state is described. The abodes of the blessed are called the eternal tents. The expression is paradoxical, combining two ideas apparently incompatible—the idea of an unchanging home, with the idea of transitoriness inseparable from tent life. A tent is the lodging of a pilgrim and stranger; heaven is the everlasting dwelling-place, the. perennial house and home of the beatified. But in this very combination of apparently incongruous ideas lies the poetry and power of this remarkable phrase. It transfers the pathos of the pilgrim life of time into the life of eternity. It has been suggested with much probability that the expression is taken from the patriarchal history. "The tents of Abraham and Isaac under the oaks of Mamre are transported by the thought into that life to come which is represented by the image of a glorified Canaan. What is the future for poetry but the past idealised!"[1]

[1] Godet.

These tents have among their occupants men whose life on earth was hard and sorrowful, and who are now enjoying eternal comfort, even the Lazaruses to whom this world was a veritable vale of tears. Of these Jesus counsels His hearers who possess wealth to make therewith friends. He speaks as one who is confident that it will be worth while to follow this course; that it will prove to be true prudence. "I say unto you, make to yourselves friends with the mammon of unrighteousness. Mark my words—I assure you the line of action I recommend will turn out good policy. If you do those who want what ye possess a good turn now, they will be able and willing to do you a good turn hereafter. When ye get from death notice to quit they will receive you into the eternal tents where they dwell in peace and joy with Abraham. Your beneficiaries now, they will become hereafter your benefactors."[1]

[1] Schöttgen states that the Jews believed that the poor could receive the rich into heaven. Alford quotes a genial remark of Richard Baxter’s: "Is there joy in heaven at thy conversion, and shall there be none at thy glorification?" The form of the thought thus quaintly expressed is that naturally arising out of the parable. The essential truth is, that genuine beneficence has value with God, the Judge of all the earth. The statement that those whom we benefit now will receive us into heaven means, that God has regard to deeds of charity, done in the true spirit of charity, in determining men’s eternal destiny. The doctrine taught here is therefore substantially identical with that set forth in the parabolic representation of the last Judgment, in which those who are welcomed to the abodes of the blessed are they who have done acts of kindness to Christ in the person of the poor and needy. It is a doctrine with which we Protestants are not quite at home, and which we are apt to regard with jealousy as endangering the supremacy of faith as the grace that saves. That we should wish to bring all Scripture statements into harmony with our dogmatic formulae is natural enough, but before setting ourselves to this task it will be well to impress upon our minds how very much teaching in the same line as that of this parable there is in the Scriptures. Going back to the Old Testament we find these beautiful words in the Book of Daniel: "Wherefore, O king, let my counsel be acceptable unto thee, and break off thy sins by righteousness, and thine iniquities by showing mercy to the poor, if it may be a lengthening of thy tranquillity." The recognition of the principle on which Daniel’s counsel was based in the New Testament is very pronounced. To the pious Cornelius it is declared by a Divine message: "Thy prayers and thine alms are come up for a memorial before God." The Apostle Peter, who was sent to teach the devout proselyte the Christian faith, in his Epistle writes: "Charity covereth a multitude of sins." Paul bids Timothy "charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God.... that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal lite." Finally Christ Himself said to the inquirer after eternal life: "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven."[1] Luther reckoned the Epistle of James a strawy production, because it appeared to him to contradict Paul’s doctrine of justification alone; and we could imagine an over-zealous defender of that doctrine, in possession of a courage equal to Luther’s, boldly calling in question the authenticity of the above-cited utterances, and pronouncing them one and all apocryphal in source and uncanonical in tendency. The Christian of soberer mind will incline rather to make room for the doctrine they teach in his creed, and to give earnest heed to it in his conduct, believing that so doing he will be attending to matters which make for salvation. For it is a mistake to imagine that the teaching of these texts, and of the counsel appended to our parable, is Ebionitic, making poverty a virtue, and charity towards the poor, in the purely external sense of almsgiving, a passport to heaven. The mere possession of riches is not represented as an evil, but only the unwise use of them.[2] And the wise use does not consist in making money in unscrupulous ways, and then compounding for the iniquity by charitable donations. Our Lord’s teaching concerning money may have been abused to that effect; but what part of His teaching has not been abused? What He aimed at was to raise His disciples up to a spiritual view of the world, as not an end in itself, but only a means to an end. To those who had been slaves of the world He preached a higher life, that consisted not in the abundance of the things they possessed. But He did not merely set that higher life and earthly possessions over against each other. He taught that the lower goods could be used so as to increase one’s spiritual wealth. He held this to be possible in every case. There was no man, in His view, however degraded, sordid, and even unrighteous his life had been, who could not redeem the past and insure the future by a wise, beneficent use of his means. The only hopeless character was that of the selfish man, who continued all his life to live only for himself, having no solicitude to make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness.

[1] These and other instances are enumerated in a most effective manner by M. Oilier of Lille in his excellent book, ’Méditations Chrétiennes sur des Paraboles,’ 1880. It is a collection of sermons full of insight and eloquence.

[2] Godet well remarks, that the sin connected with mammon consists not, according to the parable, in being the stewards of God, but in forgetting that we are. This phrase, the mammon of unrighteousness, must therefore not be timidly interpreted. Many shades of meaning have been put upon it, largely with a view to avoid exegetical encouragement to licentious abuse of our Lord’s words. Mammon, we are told, is called unrighteous because it is evil when it is made our chief good, however lawfully gotten;[1] or because it is deceitful, that is, of uncertain tenure;[2] or because there is no money which has not at some time 01 other been unrighteously used, although possibly not by the present possessor;[3] or because money represents the distinction of property—meum and tuum, which is itself the fruit of sin;[4] or because it has not been employed for charitable purposes, neglect of this duty being called ἀδικία, as the practice of it was called δικαιοσύνη.[5] Most commentators shrink from that which might appear the most natural interpretation: the mammon which you have gotten by unrighteousness. They tell us that with reference to such a case Christ would have counselled, not charity, but restitution. Nevertheless we hesitate not to say that the epithet applied to money may and ought to be understood in the last sense, not to the exclusion of the others, but with very emphatic inclusion of it among the possible meanings. Its importance consists in this, that it exhibits the extreme limit of unrighteousness, and so tests the value of the principle. Beneficence must have virtue indeed if it can redeem a life of unrighteousness; if even in the case of men who have gained wealth by fraud, there be a right use of wealth possible by which they can benefit not only others, but themselves in the highest sense. Why should we hesitate to say that Jesus did contemplate such an extreme case? Among His hearers and disciples were probably not a few publicans; men like Zacchæus, mentioned a little further on in this Gospel. What counsel was He to give them? To restore what they had gotten by false and unrighteous means? Certainly, where possible. But what was to be done in the many instances in which it was impossible? Surely the money which could not be restored should be put to the best possible use. Let the penitent publican do all the good to others he could, and so redeem the bad past as far as lay in his power; putting the poor and the needy in the place of those whom he had wronged, and to whom he could no longer give redress.[6]

[1] So Reuss.

[2] Kuinoel and others.

[3] Jerome, Melancthon, &c.

[4] Trench, Alford, &c.

[5] Lightfoot (’Hor. Heb.’); but with hesitation.

[6] The word mammon (properly mamon) in the Syriac means money. The idea that it was the name of a god was of mediæval origin. There is no suggestion in the text that mammon is essentially evil, though the concluding reflection in Luk 16:13, "Ye cannot serve God and mammon," may seem to suggest an antagonism between a good and an evil being. But it is impossible to serve two masters, whoever they be. We cannot love both God and earthly friends supremely, any more than God and earthly possessions. It would be better to replace the word mammon in out English version by money or wealth. The moral sentences which follow do not appear to us to be of great importance for the interpretation of the parable; but they are of some use as giving us additional insight into Christ’s way of regarding wealth. He virtually applies to money a series of epithets all tending to show how insignificant were the possessions of time in His view in comparison with the eternal riches. Wealth is the little, the unsubstantial, that which is really not ours, because we cannot retain it in the day of death; eternal life being the great boon, the true riches, that which is our own, because it abides with us for ever. The proper use, therefore, of the little that is fleeting is to use it with a view to the attainment of the much which endures.

One word more will finish what we have to say on this remarkable parable. The lesson taught here suggests an important theological inference. If kindness to the poo» have such value in the sight of God, it must be because God Himself is a Being who delights in loving-kindness. In teaching a morality of love Jesus virtually teaches a theology of grace. The two go together. Therefore, though the parable before us is ethical in its tendency rather than doctrinal, it may be legitimately reckoned among the parables of grace. The graciousness of the parable comes out in the quality of the ethics taught.