Friendship Makes You Better

I don't usually remember what I have written. Nietzsche said, I write so I don't have to remember. I feel the same. I write to forget. So, I am always surprised when I remember the sermon I wrote on the parable of the dishonest manager. I wrote it 10 years ago and I can't seem to forget it. 

The sermon had a strange response. It wasn't offense. No one was appalled by my communist sympathies. I didn't speak against capitalism; capitalism declares its own fault without need of assistance.  It wasn't a prophetic sermon meant to rattle cages, evoke a sense of injustice.  This is where most controversial sermons conjure ire in a congregation.  No one enjoys being accused.  People were not mad.  They just didn't agree.

              I remember this because I argued and this was unusual.  Usually I accept differences of opinion, offer no contradiction even when I categorically disagree.  Part of this is energy.  I just don't find much energy in arguing.  Some people do.  Italians.  They do for sure.  I am not Italian. I don't get energy from arguing.

              Arguing is a waste of energy and, as studies have shown, useless.  It is futile trying to persuade people who believe contrary to you.  You can persuade the undecided, but it is nearly impossible to sway a strong opinion to an opposing view.  Hence, I remember the sermon and the response because I argued. I did.   

              We argued about money.  The use of money.  I said in the sermon, money is only good for two things.  You can use money to make money; you can use money to make friends.  This was and is a strong interpretation of the parable.  This is what Jesus infers in the parable.  A number of people disagreed and they told me so.  It wasn't offence, betrayal, anger, they just didn't agree. And they said so.

              When I argued with the disagreeing folks two themes emerged.  First, they took what I said as suggesting money could only be used two ways.  To which I said, no.  You can use it lots of ways.  But there are two uses of value, two uses of merit.  Make more money; make friends.  Most of these folks concluded my understanding of wealth and economic strategies was not my strong suit; perhaps my opinions might be better served in matters of theology.  Fair. 

              The second theme though was a bit more intriguing, the arguments lasted longer, and got a bit more personal.  A handful of folks tried their best to convince me money could also be used to create security, personal comfort, joy.  And this was good.  Where this got a bit dicey, though, was the use of money to bring ease.  I suggested money could bring gratification, but mostly it fosters a false sense of security or importance, and in the same way, how gratification is not really joy.  Here the debate started to get a little heated.  It did because I was treading not so lightly over a deeply held conviction, a big part of their self-worth and pride.  Possessing wealth made them feel safe.  This was their security.  They didn't like it when I suggested, and more importantly inferred so does Jesus, if your security is money, you are in peril. 

              I didn't lose any friends over the sermon, but I am not sure I made any either.

              I still believe money is only truly useful to make more money or to make friends, and if you would like to argue about this after the service I will.  Nothing will come of it, but I am willing.

              The parable of the dishonest manager is a parabolic masterpiece.  As the parable of the sower is the parable of parables and the parable of the prodigal is the most beautiful and complex, the parable of the dishonest manager is perfect, a kind of master class in what a parable is supposed to do.  For not only does the parable challenge our sensibilities, and there is a whole spectrum of convictions this parable turns on its head, but the parable of the dishonest manager also has someone change their mind.  Hence it shows what a parable is supposed to do.  You see this now?  Parables are meant to change our way of thinking, seeing.  This happens in the parable itself.  Perfection.

              As all parables should, it challenges what we believe.  This parable challenges what we believe about honesty and integrity, money and possessions, it should overturn our thoughts about security and order.  It does all this.  And, at the same time, it shows someone completely change how they look at life. It's like a Chinese box, one layer leads to the next, to the next, and so on.  You don't know if you are manager, the owner, both, no one.  Amazing.

              Again, there are so many things we hold dear being challenged in the parable, it is hard to choose just one.  We believe, honesty is the best policy. Right?  Jesus tells the crowd, how terrible for you who cannot use dishonest wealth.  Huh?  We believe you need to be a good steward and by inference do not commit fraud or embezzle.  Believe that right?  Isn't the manager lauded for committing fraud?  Yet, of all the things we hold dear being challenged in this parable, the one perhaps cutting the deepest is: you must face the consequences of wrongdoing.  This is the bedrock of justice.  Well, not in the parable. 

              I want to follow the lead of what makes this parable so unique, how someone changes their mind.  The prodigal came to his senses, the owner in the parable, the wealthy man, changes his mind about his manager.  Different.  We can see our faults, but the truth is we rarely if ever change our mind.  The wealthy man changes his mind; he didn't understand what his wealth could do.  He thought he understood money.  Then he realizes, no.  I got it all wrong. 

              He knew money could make more money.  He was going to fire the manager for not making more money of his money.  But then, he praises him, lauds him because now he can see the other use of money.  The more important use.  Money could be used to make friends. 

              Now if the idea of buying friends makes you uncomfortable, if you are saying, uhhhh, not sure I like that.  If you are there, the parable is working.  We are taught, are we not, you should not hire or do business if this is your family or friends.  We can call it nepotism or unfair bias.  This is why parents who coach their kid's team are always suspect of favoritism.  This is why we discourage managers from dating employees or professors from dating their students.  This is why corporations have conflict of interest policies. Friends cannot be fair to friends as they are to strangers.  It's not fair to all concerned.  Right? 

              And yet, don't we all believe, it's not what you know, it's who you know.  Right?  Should it be that way?  Isn't this corruption?  Shouldn't life be about earned merit?  Why is it knowing the right person changes everything?  How is this fair?

              I don't know how it is fair, but I know it's true.  It's not what you know, it's who you know.

              Many years ago, a friend, Tom, was suffering from debilitating migraines. He went from doctor to doctor.  Treatment to treatment.  Nothing worked.  What was worse was how no one believed him.  What Tom described, the doctors said is impossible.  Migraines come in one of two ways, one form or another.  But not both together.  What Tom experienced was both at the same time.  Completely undid his life, shortened a great career. 

              Hearing Tom describe his struggles I asked him if I could call someone.  I know a guy I said and that guy knows a guy and maybe something could happen.  Could I call my friend about your condition.  Tom agreed and I called John.  Now John owns a newspaper, and he is not a neurologist, but he knows a guy who is a cardiologist.  His friend, although a cardiologist, knows lots of doctors because he was the CEO of the Cleveland Clinic.  I suggested to John that his friend Toby might know the right guy for Tom to see. 

              John said sure.  Toby said sure.  After the VA said sure, Tom ventured to the Cleveland Clinic.  Within no time those folks figured out how to cure Tom.  He was right.  He had an extremely rare condition.  But it happens.  They could fix it.  They did.  Tom got his life back.

              Not what you know, but who you know.

              My first step down this path of who you know not what you know and how friendship is the way to happiness came with my hiking partner.  Kent and I loved to hike together.  Kent was a goat, great hiker.  Lived life as if it were the most amazing gift.  He changed my life in many important ways.  Probably the most important came when I asked Kent if he would serve as an elder on the session of the church. He said, oh man, I hate committees; I hate meetings; I hate people talking and talking; sometimes I just hate people.  But he paused and looked at me, but I'll do this because I love you. 

              As a young pastor I was not prepared for this. I will admit I panicked and thought no.  No. You shouldn't serve the church because you love me.  You should serve because you love God and because it is the right thing to do or you feel called to make a difference.  This can't be about me. 

              It would take time, but I came to realize how wrong I was.  I changed how I looked at life.  Changed how I looked at service and commitment, doing the right thing. I came to see how I looked at all of this was wrong.  Like the owner didn't understand what money could do, I had no clue what friendship could do, should do, and more importantly, how friendship is the only way profound things happen for the good.  Love was not only the right reason for Kent to serve, but it was also the best reason.

              A few years ago a family member, Pete, got sick.  It wasn't Pete's first time in the hospital.  He was always falling off his bike or falling while jogging.  His wife would call me and say, Pete was in the ER again.  But this was call different. Pete had Gilliam-Barr disease.

              Fortunately, Pete was young enough and strong enough to be healed, to make it through.  During his stay at the hospital his wife Laurie got him a t-shirt that said, don't worry about me.  I know a guy.  Jesus.

              I believe Jesus loves Pete.  I even believe Jesus helped Pete get through.  And maybe the many, many people who love and prayed for Pete helped him make it through too.  I am very glad Pete knows a guy.  I am also glad how many doctors, nurses, and care givers came to love Pete and provided him the right meds and a place to heal.

              Don't worry about me, I know a guy.

              Remember:

              Honesty is the best policy.

              Don't steal or embezzle.

              Be fair to all concerned. 

              And justice must demand consequence.

              Yet, it's not what you know, it's who you know.  And, also, who knows you. 

              This house, this place of worship, song, beauty, tradition, this pageant of prayer, sacrament can do everything right, decent and in order, and come to absolutely nothing.  You can do everything right and be absolutely wrong. 

              Love isn't fair; love is wildly biased.  All of this is for not if we fail to see the person beside us as someone to love.  It's not what you know; it is who you love.  Serve without love? What a waste of time.  Amen.