Abstract
In The Unjust Steward, Miguel Escobar provides a wonderfully approachable critical analysis of Christianity’s normative views on wealth and poverty. He uses the metaphor of the unjust steward, from Jesus’ parable in the gospel of Luke, to challenge conventional notions of stewardship. In the parable, when the unjust steward is fired by the landowner, he immediately reduces the debts of the landowner’s workforce to win favor with them. By remitting their debts, the unjust steward is reversing the flow of the landowner’s wealth, and his unjust stewardship wins him the praise from both the landowner and Jesus. Escobar is picking up on work begun in the 1930s by Reinhold Niebuhr that questioned whether stewardship is ethical. Niebuhr observed the hypocrisy of the “pious businessman,” who is honest and generous at church, but then, runs his business without any regard for the people working for him (p. xv). Escobar and Neibuhr continue in a long Christian tradition challenging the accumulation of wealth, even when that wealth is directed back to churches.
Escobar makes his case in twenty-four chapters, which read like separate essays, and which include discussion questions and “next steps.” This book is an excellent resource for adult formation, book groups, and undergraduate classes. It provides a broad overview of Christian views on wealth and poverty, while also addressing current issues affecting wealth and poverty. Starting with Jesus’s parables and Paul’s teachings, he demonstrates Christianity’s deep suspicion of wealth. He points out that “so many of the passages with the gospels see prudent stewardship as part of the problem and celebrate returning money to poor communities, holding big feasts, and practicing seemingly irresponsible generosity” (p. 89).
He also includes some lesser known resources that are critical of wealth, including the second century’s The Shepherd of Hermas and “its vision of redemptive almsgiving” (p. 130); third-century North African lay theologian Lactantius’s The Divine Institutes; fourth-century Athanasisus’s The Life of Antony; fourth-century Evagrius Ponticus’s cautions on the Love of Money; and the fifth century’s De devitiis. Against this backdrop, he also describes the theologians who lead the Church to being accommodating and supportive of the wealthy and powerful, including the second-century theologian Clement of Alexandria, the fourth-century theologian Jerome and his development of the “holy poor,” and the Augustine of Hippo, who saw the defense of wealth and power as a bulwark against the chaos that marked the end of the Roman Empire.
Escobar relies upon the leading scholars of wealth and poverty within Christian history, including Peter Brown, Gustavo González, and Helen Rhee. As a result, anyone can easy dive deeper into any of the topics introduced in the book. Finally, Escobar does a wonderful job of weaving his personal experiences of wealth and poverty into these topics, making the material even more topical and relevant.
Overall, The Unjust Steward is an incredibly enjoyable read that addresses a series of timely and important topics. Ultimately, Escobar compares the twenty-first-century United States to the fifth-century decline of the Roman Empire. In the fifth century, under Augustine’s leadership, the Church provided theological support for the wealthy and powerful, and in many ways, Christian churches are continuing to provide that support. However, scripture, Christian history, and theology suggest that there could be another way. Rather than continuing as “chaplains to the rich,” faith leaders could align differently and do something entirely different in treating “the least of these” (p. 357). Escobar provides plenty of material for rich discussions that challenge notions of wealth and poverty, and which could move Christianity in a healthy and constructive new direction.