![]() ![]() But he also wanted the praise and gratitude of the merchants. He did, in fact, want the interest-the extra 50 bats of oil and 20 cors of wheat. And he found himself in a bit of a pickle. The rich man came around and the merchants went up to him, pumped his hand, patted his back, thanked him heartily for his kind-heartedness and generosity. ![]() ![]() Managers were supposed to act only as agents of their masters, so the merchants assumed that the master had generously asked the manager to reduce the bills that the rich man had got true religion and decided not to accept the interest payments. But mostly they were happy with the rich man. He reduced the merchants’ bills down to the actual amount borrowed. And the manager took advantage of this window of opportunity. But the peasants and the merchants thought he still worked for the rich man. No newspapers, no telephones, no Facebook or email. But of course, this was once upon a time, not last week. The manager got word from the master that he was fired, and it was a life and death situation. And begging would in fact shame him-which is not just to say that he would feel embarrassed, but that he would likely not survive the year. Put him out in the field with farmers who have been doing manual labor their whole lives-he wouldn’t be able to do it. His particular skills were his ability to read and write and negotiate. So he got word to the manager: “You’re fired.” And the manager wondered what he would do: “I’m not strong enough to dig and I’m ashamed to beg.” Sounds whiny, doesn’t it? But it was true. If the rumor got around and people thought he couldn’t control his manager, his honor in the community would be diminished. The rich man really didn’t know whether the accusation was true or false: “That manager of yours is squandering your property.” The master didn’t know, but he couldn’t risk it. Or maybe the manager kept his nose to the grindstone and was in bed with a book by 9 every night and a particular olive oil merchant was simply unhappy about the terms of a loan. Maybe the women he was seen with were not of the highest reputation. Maybe he was seen in a questionable establishment or two. Maybe there were some questions about where some of the money went. ![]() And the manager worked his tail off and, yes, of course, skimmed a little here and there. So the peasants got their food and the merchants got their goods and the master got his money. The master, of course, just wanted the money to keep coming in while he lived the good life in the city. Eighty cors of wheat–somewhat lower risk–he noted as 100. Fifty bats of oil became 100-because oil is a high rick commodity. Of course, his master couldn’t charge interest, so the manager had to adjust the amount loaned out accordingly. The merchants needed goods to trade, and he could get them those goods. The peasants wanted to feed their children, and he was happy to give them food, thus ratcheting up their debts and encouraging harder work in the fields. There were peasant farmers to appease, merchants to negotiate with, and a few sets of books to keep track of.Įveryone wanted something from him, and he tried to oblige. Once upon a time, there was a manager who traveled between the countryside, the market towns, and the urban center, trying to keep all of his master’s affairs in order. He was a successful man well regarded and honored in the city living a life of ease. A very rich man who owned acres of fields and olive groves and who lived in leisure and luxury in the city while his trusted manager took care of the pesky business details out in the countryside. Luke 16:1-13 (Parable of the “Unjust Steward”) ![]()
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