Three years ago when this curious parable about a manager being called out for short-changing his master came up I followed a rather unusual interpretation: namely that the manager had been adding his own “cut” above and beyond what the master’s debtors actually owed and so when he slashed their debts he was actually only cutting back on his own “take.”
An interesting interpretation, but not exactly what we hear on the face of the story. On the face of it we hear that, in order to save his hide, a man ingratiates himself with his master’s debtors by slashing the amounts they owe him so that maybe they’ll help him out when he gets fired. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.
Of course the parable ends in a surprising way (that’s the whole point of parables: they take us in one direction, spin us around, and then leave us somewhere completely unexpected, usually scratching our heads saying “wha’ happened?”). At the end of this parable, Jesus seems to be praising the shrewdness of the dishonest manager, implying, I think, that we should all be as shrewd working to advance God’s reign as we are at advancing our own self interest.
But let’s hit the pause button at the point in today’s story when the man realizes the gig is up and he has to come up with a way to save his hide. “What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am I am too ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do…” and then he outlines the plan for ingratiating himself, dishonestly, with his master’s debtors.
Let’s hit the pause button there, and let’s layer on top of it the state of affairs described by Amos in our first lesson, a time in the life of his country when the people were trampling on the needy and bringing to ruin the poor. Counting the minutes until the sabbath was over so they could once again resume their sales, using deceitful practices to swell their bottom line. Shortchanging the poor and selling sub-par food products, in this case “the sweepings of the wheat,” basically inedible food.
Looking at these two scenarios I don’t think there’s anyone who would say the decision of the dishonest manager to rip off his master was a moral one. Nor would anyone say the practices of the merchants Amos spoke against were ethical. I dare say if the manager and the merchants themselves were asked: “in theory, is it morally acceptable to cheat your boss or rip off your customers, most of whom are poor?” they would respond with an outraged and indignant “NO! Of course not! God has given us laws against this sort of thing!”
And yet here they are, in both of today’s readings: cheating and ripping off nevertheless. Which begs the question: how did they get from their in-theory-morality to their in -practice immorality? What stories did they tell themselves to make that okay? What justifications, what perfectly reasonable-sounding excuses did they have as they fell further and further away from what they knew, in theory, to be right? What was the narrative they concocted to get them from there to here?
Next Sunday, beginning at 9 pm, one of the most (in my humble opinion) spellbinding morality tales ever to air on television, will be concluded. After five seasons, next Sunday we will learn the fate of Walter White, mild-mannered high school chemistry teacher turned methamphetamine “cook,” dealer, and drug empire overlord. Walter White: the man who morphed from “Mr. Chips” to “Scarface.”
I came to the Breaking Bad phenomenon rather late. During a visit with old friends in Philadelphia with my son last January we were sitting around watching movies on Netflix when their son Anthony, my son’s best friend since kindergarten, suggested we watch the pilot episode of Breaking Bad. After I got home I watched all 4 of the existing seasons in about two weeks. It was like being unable to turn away from a train wreck.
I don’t think I’m giving anything away about the show because even those of you who aren’t fans or don’t watch the show have probably by now heard the basic premise: Walter White is a high school chemistry teacher in Albuquerque New Mexico. He has a teen aged son with cerebral palsy, a wife expecting their second child, and a brother-in-law who is a DEA agent. On his 50th birthday Walter learns that he has advanced lung cancer. His insurance won’t cover the kind of treatment he needs and he has nothing to leave his family. And so he (metaphorically) says to himself: “What will I do… I am not strong enough to dig, and am ashamed to beg,” and devises a plan to provide for his family by turning his skills as a chemistry teacher into a profitable meth business.
Again, I don’t think I’m giving anything away plot-wise — given the basic premise of the story — by saying that this leads to a long, looonnnng downward spiral to a very dark place for Walter White, aka “Heisenberg,” and the people around him.
And on each downward rung of that spiral Walt has an explanation, a rationale, a story. I need to provide for my family. I could have done this without cooking meth if those business partners of mine back then hadn’t screwed me out of my fair share. Of course that guy had to die — he was threatening me. A lie to my wife? No, that wasn’t a lie — there’s just stuff she doesn’t need to know about for her own good. Besides she is always on me. Doesn’t she get that I HAVE CANCER??
And on and on and on. Rung by rung by rung. Lower and lower and lower. Story by story, Walt’s narrative unfolds and captivates.
You see, here is the really interesting and scary part of it all. Walter White takes us with him in his descent. With his stories. With his justifications. With his rationales. We may be the detached outside viewer seeing all of these awful things unfold, and yet a part of us (well, a part of me anyway) goes with him goes with him because we understand. Or, even more disturbingly, not just understand, but connect a part of ourselves in his descent. Rung by rung, story by story.
For which of us has not told ourselves a story to make something okay? Something we know, deep down inside, is not okay, but well, you know, under the circumstances and what would you do and this just seems to be the lesser of two evils so I’ll choose to do it or yeah, but they did it first so I’m totally justified in retaliating, right?
As depraved as the world of Walter White continues to reveal itself to be I think the millions of people who now avidly follow this 21st century morality tale (myself certainly included) is because 1) we know that a part of Walter White, aka “Heisenberg,” holds a mirror to that part of ourselves we would rather not have to face and own and 2) we continue to seek some scrap of redemption.
“I am not strong enough to dig and am ashamed to beg.”
Maybe truly owning the truth of that statement is where redemption begins. For Walter White it was his inability to accept either part of that statement that started his downward spiral: not strong enough to dig — to dig down into who he really was and grasps what he what actually doing. Too ashamed to beg: too proud to admit that he needed help (which could have come from his former business partners, his family, or countless others). Too proud to reveal what was really going on inside of him and ask for help. Too unwilling to bare his soul — his fears, his doubts, his temptations, to a community which might have both held him accountable and helped him keep his soul.
Because that is one thing so clearly missing in this 21st century morality tale, Breaking Bad. What’s missing is the belonging to a community which is brave enough to go below the surface, a community connected to something bigger than than an attitude of “I’m in this alone and I don’t need any help.” A community that has the courage to hold each other accountable. A community that acknowledges that we are all broken, all flawed, all subject to believing the stories we tell ourselves to justify what we do and yet are still drawn together by the loving power at the very core of the universe, the power we call “God.”
The Rev’d Molly Baskette, a United Church of Christ minister recently mused about the nature of God in her on-going blog. She quoted author Haven Kimmel who wrote: “God doesn’t compel, God lures us toward the good.” And she went on to say:
“We were born with free will. It is a blessing and a curse. It means we have the freedom to choose the path of our days and our lives – but it comes at a cost. The cost is that we sometimes (often) choose things that cause suffering to others or ourselves. But when we quiet our wants, and want what God wants instead, we experience grace. Perfect peace. Alignment. Flow. It has many names, but you know what it feels like. It feels good. It feels like freedom.”
And we can only achieve that freedom when we acknowledge that, ultimately, we are not captains of our own destiny, rulers of our fate, “the one who knocks” as Walter White proclaimed of himself. We can only achieve that freedom when we acknowledge that we are not ultimately in charge, our lives are entwined with those of others and in the midst of it all, in the very center of the universe is not us but the God who created us. A God to whom “all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid.” A God who knows every terrible thing we’ve done and every story we’ve told to ourselves to justify it — and yet continues to take us back, continues to forgive us, continues to love us unconditionally. And a God who continues to call us together into a community where we are both held accountable and also accepted, embraced, and loved — warts and all. AMEN.
XVIII Pentecost Year C
Proper 20 St. Stephen’s, Coconut Grove
Amos 8: 4-7 The Rev’d Willie Allen-Faiella
Ps 113 September 22, 2013
Lk 16: 1-13 Sermon # 647
