Introduction
Many biblical commentaries admit that this parable is among the most difficult to interpret. More than one scholar even calls it “The Hardest Parable.”
And I can see why. So often, Jesus’ parables open a window into God’s extravagant grace, like the parable of the Prodigal Son. In others, the images stretch toward the abstract: the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed or like hidden treasure. They may be hard to fully grasp, but we can place them in that category of mystery, acknowledging that God’s reign exceeds human understanding.
But this parable is different. Here we don’t see the familiar patterns: no obvious God figure, no straightforward depiction of the Kingdom. Instead, we’re given a story that sounds uncomfortably familiar to real life.
Narrative Context
The parable begins with a rich man. We don’t know exactly what kind of business he ran (maybe trading or lending) but we do know that he employed a manager. The man hears a report that his manager was “squandering” his property.
The master calls him in: “What is this I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.”
This is our first puzzle. What exactly did the manager do wrong? Was he cooking the books? Taking money for himself? Extending reckless loans? Or was it more subtle, bad judgment, missed opportunities, poor strategy?
Even the word “squandering” leaves us uncertain. In Luke’s Gospel, the word appears only three times: here, in Mary’s Magnificat where God “scatters” the proud, and in the Prodigal Son’s reckless living. So, was the manager careless, dishonest, or simply ineffective? We can’t be sure.
Whatever the case, he now faces a crisis. He thinks to himself: “What will I do? I’m not strong enough to dig, and I’m too ashamed to beg. I know what I’ll do, so that when I’m dismissed, people will welcome me into their homes.”
His future is closing in. With his job gone, he has no way forward.
Then comes his unexpected solution. He summons the master’s debtors and slashes their bills. One who owed 100 jugs of olive oil is told to make it 50. Another, who owed 100 containers of wheat, is told to make it 80.
It’s a strange move, but the implications are significant. Suddenly, the debtors burdened by overwhelming obligations are freed to pay off manageable sums. Their accounts are settled. Their futures reopened.
What’s less clear is the math behind it. Did the manager cut into the master’s profits? Did he sacrifice his own commission? We aren’t told. But we do see the ripple effect. The community benefits, and even the master commends the manager for his shrewdness.
What Does this Mean?
This parable is complex because it describes something far more like our actual reality. It’s not an idealized picture of God’s Kingdom but a reflection of human reality, where motives are mixed, choices are murky, and decisions rarely fit into neat categories of right or wrong.
And yet, we hear over and over again in scripture that this is the world God created and called good. This is the world Jesus entered, healing, feeding, befriending, saving. In Luke’s Gospel, the Kingdom of God is not some distant future, it breaks in with Jesus’ ministry here and now. And we, as his followers, are called to live into it.
That means engaging this broken, complicated world as it is. It means making decisions in the messiness of real life and choosing actions that help reveal God’s Kingdom.
When stripping this parable down, the question that comes about is: In an imperfect world, when everything seems impossibly broken, what will our next action be?
The manager is being fired. He won’t have the means to move onto anything else. So, what is the next action that he will take?
Will he secure his own finances? Will he steal from the rich man? Will he dot the I’s and cross the T’s and leave the position?
His decision is not 100% altruistic. It is not a perfect self-sacrificial action. He does something that will help the community around him so that when all of this is over, he will have a community who will welcome him in. In a broken situation, he does the best that he can.
In an imperfect world, when everything seems impossibly broken, what is the next action that we take?
Preaching Possibilities
For us today
This is why I love this parable for today. It is not asking us, as followers of Christ to do the impossible or the perfect. Instead, it is calling us to see this broken world as our world to live in. And when we are in situations when everything seems impossibly broken, will our next action be one that draws us closer to community and God?
Each of us regularly faces these kinds of questions. Looking around us, watching the news, seeing notifications on our phones, we are constantly reminded of the impossibly broken parts of this world.
So how do we respond?
Do we enter into nihilism and give up and call it all meaningless? Do we succumb to the brokenness, living as though nothing we do matters and in fact rebel further because it doesn’t matter anyway?
Or on the other end of the spectrum, do we demand perfection from our leaders, our neighbors, and even ourselves? Do we slip into another kind of cultural purity test—where if every single thing isn’t done exactly right, then the person, the community, or even we ourselves are written off as a lost cause? If we don’t make every perfect decision about the environment, or if we stumble in our efforts toward inclusiveness, accessibility for those with disabilities, or cultural sensitivity, does that mean that any action we have taken is suddenly pointless?
Or do we dare, with each next action (however small) to move a step closer to God and closer to community? Do we trust that God can work even through our imperfect efforts to bring about wholeness, healing, and hope? This is grace: that in a world where we will never act perfectly, God still chooses to act through us. Every small step toward love and justice is gathered up into God’s greater work of redemption, so that even in our imperfection, God’s Kingdom draws near.
Micah Krey 
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