Amos 8:4-7; 1 Timothy 2:1-8; Luke 16:1-13.
The steward in Jesus’ story is dishonest, but shrewd. Facing dismissal, he reduces the debts of his master’s debtors, ensuring that when he is left without work, he will be welcomed into their homes. The master is not praising dishonesty, but the clever foresight of the man who used his fleeting opportunity and resources to secure his future. Jesus then turns to His disciples and says: “Make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous mammon, so that when it fails, they may welcome you into eternal dwellings.” In other words, we are urged to use what is passing away—wealth, influence, opportunities—in ways that build relationships, serve others, and honor God, so that our true riches may be in heaven.
This teaching is not isolated. In the Old Testament, the book of Proverbs tells us: “Riches do not profit in the day of wrath, but righteousness delivers from death” (Proverbs 11:4). The Psalmist likewise reminds us: “Do not be overawed when others grow rich… for they will take nothing with them when they die” (Psalm 49:16–17). The story of Joseph in Egypt also echoes this principle; his shrewdness in storing grain during years of plenty (Genesis 41) was not for selfish gain, but for saving many lives during famine. His use of resources showed foresight and a heart tuned to God’s providence.
In the New Testament, this theme continues. Jesus warns, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth… but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven” (Matthew 6:19–20). St. Paul writes to Timothy: “Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth… Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share” (1 Timothy 6:17–18). The contrast is clear: earthly riches are uncertain and temporary, but when used generously and wisely, they open doors to eternal reward.
Many saints have lived this Gospel with radical clarity. St. Lawrence, the deacon of Rome, when commanded by a Roman prefect to present the treasures of the Church, gathered the poor, the widows, and the orphans, declaring: “These are the treasures of the Church.” He understood that wealth is not gold and silver, but lives touched with love. St. Francis of Assisi, once the son of a wealthy merchant, renounced all inheritance to embrace holy poverty, thereby showing the world that spiritual riches outlast earthly wealth. Even rulers such as St. Louis IX of France used their power and treasure not for indulgence but for building hospitals, feeding the poor, and caring for pilgrims. They saw wealth as a stewardship entrusted to them, not a master to enslave them.
Contemporary examples abound as well. One shining example is the life of Dr. Albert Schweitzer (1875–1965). Schweitzer was a world-renowned theologian, philosopher, and musician, already highly respected in Europe for his academic and artistic accomplishments. Yet at the height of his career, he felt the call of Christ’s words, “You cannot serve both God and money,” deeply within him. He chose to abandon the comforts of a prestigious life and retrain as a medical doctor, not for personal gain, but so he could serve the poorest of the poor in Africa. He moved to Lambaréné in present-day Gabon, where he founded a hospital and dedicated his life to healing those with no access to modern medicine. His decision baffled many who saw him as wasting his “talents” on obscurity, but in truth, he was investing in eternal riches.
For over fifty years, Schweitzer lived in humble conditions, treating the sick, comforting the suffering, and inspiring others to join in compassionate service. His hospital became a beacon of hope, serving thousands who otherwise would have been left to die without care. Schweitzer’s legacy was not his wealth or reputation, but the lives he saved, the dignity he restored, and the faith he lived out so faithfully. When he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1952, he reminded the world that true greatness lies in service and that wealth, intellect, and influence must bow to love and mercy if they are to have any eternal value.
Another moving story is that of Dorothy Day (1897–1980), an American journalist who underwent a profound conversion to Catholicism and became a champion for the poor. In 1933, together with Peter Maurin, she founded the Catholic Worker Movement during the depths of the Great Depression. At a time when millions were unemployed, hungry, and homeless, Dorothy chose not to build a career for her own security but to dedicate herself entirely to the works of mercy. She opened “Houses of Hospitality,” where the destitute could find food, shelter, and dignity. She lived in voluntary poverty, sharing the struggles of those she served, believing firmly that the riches of this world should always be placed at the service of others.
Day’s witness was radical because it confronted the idols of money, power, and comfort head-on. She spoke fearlessly against injustice, war, and exploitation, often at great personal cost. Though criticized by some as impractical or idealistic, her work inspired thousands of volunteers and continues even today in Catholic Worker communities worldwide. Dorothy Day’s life showed how the Gospel message of Luke 16 can be lived out concretely: using whatever resources one has—not to dominate or accumulate, but to love, to share, and to build a community where Christ is present in the least of His brothers and sisters.
For us, the challenge is real. We live in a world that glorifies material success, where advertisements daily tell us that happiness is found in what we buy, own, or display. But the Gospel confronts us with a decisive choice: whom will we serve? Wealth can be a tool, a servant, even a blessing when rightly used, but it is a cruel master. To serve God means holding possessions with open hands, knowing they are entrusted to us for a time and for a purpose greater than ourselves.
In practical terms, this means we must examine how we use our money, time, and influence. Do we use them only for ourselves, or do we invest them in relationships of love, service, and mercy? Do we build walls of comfort, or bridges of compassion? Jesus tells us that when our earthly life ends, it will not be the possessions we hoarded that welcome us, but the lives we touched, the hungry we fed, the strangers we clothed, the friends we made by our generosity. They will testify to our true wealth before God.
In the end, the lesson of the Shrewd Manager is not about dishonesty but about urgency and foresight. Just as he acted decisively when he knew his time was short, so must we. Our life is brief, and our opportunity to use what we have for God’s Kingdom is fleeting.
In 1997, Princess Diana of Wales—one of the most photographed, admired, and influential women of her time—died suddenly in a car accident at just 36 years old. She had wealth, fame, and the admiration of millions across the globe. Only hours before, she had been enjoying dinner and laughter, unaware that her life would be cut short that very night. The shocking news reminded the world that no amount of privilege or power can shield us from mortality. Her funeral drew millions into grief but also served as a stark reminder that life is fragile and fleeting.
Her story echoes the words of the Psalmist: “Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow” (Psalm 144:4). No matter how high we rise or how much we possess, life remains temporary. Death does not ask whether we are rich or poor, young or old, powerful or powerless—it comes to all. What matters, therefore, is not the length of our days nor the abundance of our possessions, but how faithfully we live, love, and prepare for the eternal life to come.
May we, then, be as shrewd as he was—though not in dishonesty but in holy wisdom—using every resource entrusted to us for God’s glory, so that when our days are done, we may be welcomed joyfully into eternal dwellings by the One who said: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
Satish