Sunday, September 21st, 2025
Pentecost 15
Luke 16:1-13
This is the story of a guy who got fired. One minute, he was a valued member of the team, an up and coming go getter with upward mobility on his mind. Next thing you know, security is escorting him out of the building carrying a cardboard box with his family pictures, potted plant and a half eaten bag of Fritos. He has joined the ranks of the unemployed and he is not likely to find a comparable position anytime soon.
What you need to understand is that the man in Jesus’ parable was a collection agent. His job was to put the squeeze on people who owed his boss money, particularly those who were delinquent in their payments. Like debt collection agencies today, he got his compensation by adding a surcharge to each debt. So, as you can well imagine, he was not a popular figure in his community. Now he is persona non grata in his profession as well. His options are not attractive.
I think the church is finding itself in much the same position these days. For all of forty plus decades of my life in the ministry, mainline churches in this country, my Lutheran church, the Episcopal church, Methodists, Presbyterians, we are all in a state of institutional decline. Membership is down. Financial support is down. And most significantly, the esteem in which our churches were once held is all but gone. Gone are the days when everyone went to church somewhere – or lied and said they did. Gone are the days when our cathedrals and tall steeple churches in the heart of downtown were filled to capacity. Gone are the days when the press regularly sought opinions on the issues of the day from giants of our faith, Reinhold Neibur, Avery Robert Dulles, Peter Berger, Harry Emerson Fosdick, William Sloane Coffin and Bishop James Pike. Tons of ink has been spilt and trees felled printing books and articles explaining why this is so. We could discuss that for months. But the long and the short of it is this: American society does not need the church anymore. You can be a good, moral, civically responsible, patriotic American citizen without belonging to a church. The church is no longer necessary. Folks, We’ve been fired.
So what are we going to do about it? Perhaps we can take a hint from that guy in Jesus’ parable. He might have spent the last day on the job squeezing every last dollar he could get out of his boss’s debtors before departing into the netherworld of the unemployed. But he doesn’t. Instead, he goes to each of his boss’s debtors and reduces their obligation by foregoing his commission, thereby ensuring that they will welcome him as one of their own. Now you might interpret that cynically as calculated and self serving. But I prefer to see it as something more. I believe that this man’s eyes have been opened. He now understands that among the powerful and wealthy, within the machinery of exploitation and oppression, there is no friendship, there is no loyalty, there is no compassion to be had. It is everyone for themselves, a war of all against all fighting over the loot exploited from the poor. Anybody and everybody is expendable. He has learned that what he needs to be safe and secure is not wealth, power and connections among the movers and shakers. What he needs to survive on the margins of society is family.
For forty plus years I have sat through meetings in church basements on hard metal folding chairs drinking bad coffee and fretting about what is happening to the church and how to turn it around. Anxiety increases with each passing year as we get smaller, older and less relevant and influential. Things look pretty bleak-or do they? Maybe there is another way to look at this. Perhaps getting fired is the best thing that ever happened to the church. Jesus tells us, doesn’t he, that every tree that is of God’s planting God prunes and clears out the dead wood so that it can grow back stronger, more vigorous and bear good fruit. Maybe, we’re getting pruned. Maybe, just maybe, God doesn’t want a big church. Maybe God doesn’t want a church that hobnobs with the wealthy, the powerful and famous. Maybe God wants a small church whose members are not found in the center of commerce or the halls of power, but on the margins where the lost, neglected, the homeless, the undocumented and the poor are found. Maybe God wants a church so small we can’t afford to be divided, because we have too much to do and we need each other too much. Maybe God wants a church so poor it has nothing left but Jesus and the reign of God he proclaims-and maybe when we get that small and that poor and that far away from the centers of wealth and power, we will finally learn that Jesus and the hope of God’s reign is the only thing of value we have ever had. And then God will look upon us and say, “Now there’s a church I can use!”
I think I know what that looks like. I watched the last presidential inauguration. Of all that was going on that day, what caught my attention was the participation of the clergy. Cardinal Timothy Dolan, Rev. Franklin Graham, Bishop Wayne Jackson, president of Impact Network, Paula White-Cain, nationally known televangelist and personal spiritual advisor to the president, and more. All these ecclesiastical leaders, dressed in their finest garb trying to outdo each other heaping praise and blessings on the newly elected president. I can’t fault them too much. I don’t know, but I suspect it is pretty intoxicating, being at the center of power in the mightiest nation on earth, surrounded by the most powerful people on the planet, billionaires seated in the gallery-all listening to you as you revel in your seven minutes of fame. It’s easy to forget that you are not really a part of all that. It is easy to forget that when the party is over, you will be tossed aside like yesterday’s newspaper, and the real movers and shakers will go on moving and shaking without you. Because in the grand scheme of things, you, your church and your words amount to nothing. Today you’re on top of the world. Tomorrow, you’ll be fired.
As usual, the inauguration was followed by the National Prayer Service at Washington National Cathedral in Washington, DC. I saw parts of that, too. Maybe the movers and shakers were expecting more of the same from a church hungry for recognition, desperate for attention and longing to be part of the “in crowd.” Well,
they were in for a shock. Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde, Bishop of Washington, D.C., who presided over the service, turned her gaze upon the president of the United States and all the power brokers around him, and said, “Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you and, as you told the
nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now.” She went on to name the homeless, gay, lesbian and transgender folk and their families. Laborers who pick our crops, clean our office buildings and package
our food-some of which lack “proper documentation.” She then prayed, “God grant us the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being.” Bishop Budde, like the fellow in Jesus’ parable, understood that there is no real security, no peace and no glory among the cruel, the selfish and the ruthless. She knew, as
did Mary the Mother of our Lord, that these powers are destined to be cast down and sent away empty. She knew that the only secure place to stand is with the most vulnerable people among us whom God would exalt. So she used her voice that day, not to squeeze whatever drops of glory there might still be in marching in the
inaugural parade and blessing the reign of the strong, the wealthy and powerful. She used her voice to speak for those who have no voice, no wealth and no power.
There is a price to be paid for identifying with the victims of oppression, for speaking hard truth to power-that God is on the side of the weak, the vulnerable, the poor, the hated and despised. What price might we pay for following the bishop’s lead? Will our churches lose tax exempt status? Will our colleges and seminaries be pressured to comply with oppressive regulations that violate our fundamental values? Will our freedom to worship, teach and evangelize be threatened? I know that sounds unthinkable, but how many unthinkable things
haven’t we seen the last few years? Identifying with the those deemed the “least” among us might cause us to lose everything and drive the church to the margins of society, but if I am reading this parable right, that is good news. It’s good news because the margins is where we are most likely to meet Jesus. And with Jesus is
where his church belongs. Amen.
The Rev. Peter Olsen
St. James the Fisherman
Wellfleet, MA