I appreciate how you exchange your initial thoughts about this curious parable into the currency of international relations and power politics. The parable seems to take us into the marketplace, but most of us don’t seem to know what kind of notes the parable finds us holding.
I’ve found that the parable of the shrewd manager is like the now-dated concept of “listening to Prozac”: prescribe the drug to help arrive at the diagnosis. I learn more about people’s spirituality by how they process this parable. (I sometimes hesitate to share my own reading of this parable because of what it might reveal about me.)
How do we account for ourselves in a world of credit lines, a world also charged with the grandeur of God? You effectively use the parable as a speculative instrument by developing a splendid dialogue between innocence and shrewdness.
Your remarks on the manager helps me see Paul’s advice to “those who use the world, as though they did not make full use of it” in a new light. Certainly, our parable’s manager operated on Paul’s advice in a sense, getting pennies on the dollar, and understanding himself as a mere agent (whether going beyond his authority or not).
And the manager’s “sit down quickly” seems to anticipate paperwork that won’t hold up among the just—or at least among the punctilious.
I found Robert Farrar Capon’s take on the parable enlightening, and you brought me back to it. Capon’s use of the parable’s narrative seems limited by his central thesis that Jesus is presenting himself as the shrewd manager. You bring out this aspect of the parable, too, and I agree with you and Capon. I just think Capon limits the parable in a way that you don’t, possibly because Capon seems burdened by an ever-present history of redemption.
You and Capon draw one same conclusion, though: “Thank God we do not have to deal with a just steward.” Amen. The master didn’t seem pleased with the servant who avoided the marketplace and balanced his books by returning what he had received. Innocence past its maturity date is dangerous.
This is wonderfully put. I especially appreciate the “listening to Prozac” analogy: the parable diagnoses us by how we receive it. Your point about “sit down quickly” is even better. Grace moves before the auditors arrive. Capon is right about Christ the shrewd manager, but you’re right that the parable refuses to stay there. - Thanks, Bryce.
I appreciate how you exchange your initial thoughts about this curious parable into the currency of international relations and power politics. The parable seems to take us into the marketplace, but most of us don’t seem to know what kind of notes the parable finds us holding.
I’ve found that the parable of the shrewd manager is like the now-dated concept of “listening to Prozac”: prescribe the drug to help arrive at the diagnosis. I learn more about people’s spirituality by how they process this parable. (I sometimes hesitate to share my own reading of this parable because of what it might reveal about me.)
How do we account for ourselves in a world of credit lines, a world also charged with the grandeur of God? You effectively use the parable as a speculative instrument by developing a splendid dialogue between innocence and shrewdness.
Your remarks on the manager helps me see Paul’s advice to “those who use the world, as though they did not make full use of it” in a new light. Certainly, our parable’s manager operated on Paul’s advice in a sense, getting pennies on the dollar, and understanding himself as a mere agent (whether going beyond his authority or not).
And the manager’s “sit down quickly” seems to anticipate paperwork that won’t hold up among the just—or at least among the punctilious.
I found Robert Farrar Capon’s take on the parable enlightening, and you brought me back to it. Capon’s use of the parable’s narrative seems limited by his central thesis that Jesus is presenting himself as the shrewd manager. You bring out this aspect of the parable, too, and I agree with you and Capon. I just think Capon limits the parable in a way that you don’t, possibly because Capon seems burdened by an ever-present history of redemption.
You and Capon draw one same conclusion, though: “Thank God we do not have to deal with a just steward.” Amen. The master didn’t seem pleased with the servant who avoided the marketplace and balanced his books by returning what he had received. Innocence past its maturity date is dangerous.
This is wonderfully put. I especially appreciate the “listening to Prozac” analogy: the parable diagnoses us by how we receive it. Your point about “sit down quickly” is even better. Grace moves before the auditors arrive. Capon is right about Christ the shrewd manager, but you’re right that the parable refuses to stay there. - Thanks, Bryce.