Abstract
This article reads the parable of the unjust steward (Luke 16:1–8a) using a social-scientific method, particularly the anthropology of agrarian patron-client relations. Here I delineate a model of the erosion of patron-client bonds, based on the work of James C. Scott and others, and the emergence of horizontal solidarity and mutual aid (“balanced reciprocity”). I relate this model to the peasant’s burden of debt, particularly in Jesus’ world. As commercialization develops in an agrarian society patron-client bonds begin to erode, and peasants begin to understand these bonds as relations of exploitation. Consequently, subversive ideology develops, evident in peasant folktales directed against the wealthy and powerful. Accordingly, I argue that the parable of the unjust steward is a satire aimed at landlord-patrons who perpetuate the burden of debt.
The parable of the unjust steward is perhaps the most perplexing of Jesus’ parables. Adolf Jülicher (1910: 495) called the parable a crux interpretum among the parables, and this is still the case more than a century later, despite innumerable interpretations (see Bovon 2013: 443). The principal confounding factor in the parable is v. 8a. Why would the rich man praise a steward who had just committed fraud against him (assuming that ho kyrios refers to the rich man)?
Centuries of interpretation with little success in fully understanding the parable should cause us to reconsider past approaches and employ methodologies that may yield new insights and fuller interpretations. This article employs a social-scientific methodology and is attentive to textual data that indicate certain social facts. Accordingly, with the help of comparative social sciences, we may be able to access the parable’s meaning as it was for its original peasant auditors.
The task of interpretation requires the use of explicit social-scientific models, for, without these, there is little hope of moving beyond our world into the world of Jesus. Implicit social models (which we all have) naturally guide our interpretations unless we submit our investigations to the rigor of the social sciences to develop and test (and reject, if necessary) explicit social models. Models are essential as heuristic devices to make sense of the social data in the text.
In this manner, after assessing some interpretive traditions, I proceed to delineate a model of commercialization in an agrarian society that involves the erosion of patron-client relations and the deterioration of their moral weight for the peasantry. I then briefly describe both the process of commercialization in Roman Palestine and the dynamics of the subversive peasant folktale. From the social facts indicated in the parable, I apply the social-scientific model to derive and argue the central thesis: The parable is a sample of subversive peasant satire aimed at landlord-patrons who perpetuate the burden of debt.
The difficulty of the parable has prompted extensive literature (for a history of interpretation, see Ireland 1989). One assumption has been that the steward is corrupt, either because he ‘squandered’ his master’s property or defrauded his master by falsifying the debtors’ documents–Joachim Jeremias (1975: 46) even calls him a criminal. Yet, he does not call the rich man a criminal, for the man is, in his view, Jesus: “It is hard to believe that the κύριος of v. 8 refers to the lord of the parable: how could he have praised the deceitful steward…the analogy in 18.6 suggests that the κύριος in 16.8 is Jesus” (Jeremias 1975: 45). Therefore, Jeremias, by rejecting allegorization, has eliminated v. 8 from the parable. There are several points to consider when deciding on either an ending at v. 7 or one at v. 8a (vv. 8b–13 can be safely regarded as secondary application; see Fitzmyer 1964: 27–30).
A more careful exegetical practice reveals, rather clearly, that the kyrios of v. 8a is the rich man. In v. 3, the steward assigns the term kyrios to his master—the one who will take away the office of oikonomos from him (ho kyrios mou aphaireitai tēn oikonomias ap emou). Second, v. 5, similarly, assigns the term kyrios to the rich man: Both the chreopheiletai (debtors) and the steward stand in social relations with the kyrios (tōn chreopheiletōn tou kyriou…poson opheileis tō kyriō mou). That the kyrios of v. 8a is the rich man thus follows naturally from the logic of the parable. Furthermore, Bernard Scott (1983) correctly suggests that in all cases wherein a story has a kyrios, “Luke provides clear cues to the reader for a change of subject” (176). Thus, in Luke 16:8–9, “a clear change in subject does not occur until v. 9” (176). Therefore, until v. 9, we cannot yet expect the kyrios to be anyone other than the rich man. Furthermore, the narrative of the parable is not complete without the response of the master: Whether one approaches the praise in terms of challenge-response (corresponding to honor-shame codes) or in terms of internal narrative structure, a response from the master is expected from the very beginning (Fitzmyer 1964: 28). Given these data, it would be unnecessary—and, in my view, incorrect—to limit the parable to v. 7. Therefore, this article assumes v. 8a as the proper ending of the parable (for further argument in favor of this ending, see Marshall 1978: 614–22; Fitzmyer 1983: 1096–97; Kloppenborg 1989: 475–79; Bovon, 2013: 444–45).
In addition, this article assumes that the parable is an authentic parable of Jesus and not a Lucan composition. The story sits uneasily in the textual context of Luke 16 and clear secondary interpretation is found in vv. 8b–13. The parable also reflects an agrarian setting more aligned with Jesus’ Galilee than with Luke’s urban community (see Esler 1986: 30). It is likely the case that Luke selected source material, including the parable in question, strategically to communicate his theology of poverty and, therefore, it is unnecessary to postulate that Luke composed the parable for this reason (see Esler 1986: 168–69).
Weighing most heavily against Jeremias’ reading is the fact that the rich, including landlords, are typically in conflict with the teachings of Jesus, particularly in the Gospel of Luke (Luke 6:24; 12:16–20; 14:12–13; 16:19–31; 18:23–25; 19:2–9; 21:1–4). Jeremias interprets the parable as a lesson in eschatology (recognizing the crisis), which, according to him, the primitive church overwrote to make the parable a lesson on the proper use of wealth. Unfortunately, Jeremias’ interpretation overlooks the text’s social dimension; in failing to address the social context of the parable, Jeremias has offered an interpretation that would probably seem strange to a peasant in early Roman Palestine, as we shall see.
In another interpretive tradition, Dennis J. Ireland (1992: 7–8) suggests that the actions of the manager are criminal, yet the lesson drawn from the steward of the parable is a positive one—it is a lesson on the Christian’s proper administration of their God-given wealth for spiritual goals and benefits. Ireland also assumes that the rich man is upright—Jesus Christ himself. Similarly, Dave Matthewson (1995) argues (ad ignorantiam) that since no one has come up with a better interpretation of the parable, the traditional one (i.e., that which Ireland defends) stands.
The main issue with this so-called traditional view is that it overlooks the social and economic context of the parable. As Kloppenborg (1989) has correctly noted: “the ‘economic world’ of the parable must be reconstructed if it is to be intelligible to post-Enlightenment and post-industrial readers” (474). The assumption that the rich man is upright and just overlooks, again, the tension that Jesus has with rich landlords (see, e.g., Luke 12:16–20). Furthermore, it rejects even a synchronic reading; the parable is joined to the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19–31) through the anti-wealth saying in v.13 and the reference to the Pharisees’ love of money in v.14.
Several scholars have broken from the traditional interpretation. J. D. M. Derrett (1961: 200) and Joseph A. Fitzmyer (1964: 36) argue that the steward did nothing wrong by lowering the debts, for the rich man—the owner of a latifundium and a thoroughly negative figure—broke biblical law by charging interest on the loans. But as Kloppenborg (1989) has correctly countered, there is no reason to assume that we are dealing with loans in the parable: “The debtors might just as well be tenants who have rented a plot and an olive grove from the master at a fixed rate of return, rather than on the basis of half-shares” (482, emphasis original). Furthermore, the argument that the rich man was charging interest on loans suggests interest rates of 25% for the wheat and 100% for the oil. But as Kloppenborg (1989) has shown, the standard interest rate for loans, if Egypt is instructive, was 50% (482).
Following a social-scientific methodology, Kloppenborg (1989) employs Bruce Malina’s social-scientific model of Mediterranean honor-shame culture (see Malina 2001: 27–57). Kloppenborg argues, accordingly, that “what is at stake is not the steward’s character but the master’s honour” (474). The community’s evaluation of the master’s perceived inability to control his steward results in a blow to his honor in the court of public opinion. To restore his honor, “the master has only one real option: to dismiss the steward…” (489).
Kloppenborg also suggests, following Malina’s model, that wealth is a “means to acquire honour rather than an end in itself” (489). But insight from the modern ethnographic study of rural Mediterranean communities has shown that, on the contrary, honor is an economic and political phenomenon. In fact, “honor can be thought of as the ideology of a property holding group which struggles to define, enlarge, and protect its patrimony in a competitive arena” (Schneider 1971: 2).
Kloppenborg does not fully address the fact that the steward is explicitly called ‘unjust’ (oikonomos tēs adikias, v. 8a): the parable has the character of the steward on trial. Furthermore, the agents of rich landlords may have been problematic in the eyes of the peasants (see, e.g., Mark 12:1–8). As the agent of the absentee landlord, the steward may have represented the ruthlessness and injustice of the landlord. After all, the steward is responsible for enforcing the contracts of the landlord.
Another issue with Kloppenborg’s main argument is that, while he does mention the indebtedness of the peasantry, he does not, in his evaluation, give adequate weight to such indebtedness and the zero-sum nature of peasant society. Furthermore, Jesus’ negative evaluation of rich landowners in what may be called the ‘rich man’ parables (Luke 12:16–20; 16:1–8a; 16:19–31) cannot be neglected in the interpretation of the parable. Kloppen-borg (1989) himself correctly suggests that “to say that he is rich is to evoke a social code, probably that of the peasant, in which the rich are expected to behave in ways which are inimical to the peasants’ interests” (487, emphasis original).
Kloppenborg’s emphasis is on codes of honor and shame. Still, the primary concern for the auditors, the peasantry probably the most represented, is where their next meal was coming from, not the honor of an absentee landlord. The peasants, being inclined toward a subsistence ethic, are more concerned about the character of the rich man rather than his honor.
William Herzog (1994: 233–58) subverts the capitalist ideology that has often guided the interpretation of this parable and does so in a very skilful engagement with scholarship. He argues that the story represents the so-called “weapons of the weak,” as described by James C. Scott (1985). The parable, for Herzog, is a story about tenants using a weapon of the weak, namely, slander, against the manager so that eventually, their debts would be reduced. The story does not indicate, however, that the debtors use slander against the steward, nor does the story provide any indirect evidence. Herzog’s argument relies on a reading of dieblēthē (v. 1) as indicating slander or false accusation. This reading, however, is problematic—the steward clearly understands that he is in the wrong. The certainty of his fate is found in the fact that he is to present an account of his oikonomia (the record of his economic management, v. 2) and in the master’s question concerning the veracity of the charge in v. 2 (ti touto akouō peri sou). The master’s question is indicative of an intent of investigation, presumably an evaluation of the documents. The response of the steward is desperation. Furthermore, while diaballō can mean ‘falsely accuse’ or ‘misrepresent,’ it is also used in terms of accusation in general (see LSJ sv. diaballō; e.g., P. Tebt. 1.23 [114 BCE]).
Herzog follows Derrett and Fitzmyer in suggesting that the problem is, again, usury, illegal in biblical law. He, therefore, adopts the problematic assumptions regarding interest rates. However, he does highlight the so-called “prosbul.” This was a legal provision, discussed in the Mishnah (Shevi’it 10.3), for loan or lease contracts by which creditors could legally collect debts in the sabbatical year. While we have only one pre-70 CE attestation of the prosbul (P. Mur. 18 [55/56 CE]), it is plausible, considering that debt was a significant problem for the peasantry, that creditors would have collected debts in sabbatical years. Similarly, Herzog is likely correct when he comments that “Clearly, the issue at the end of the parable is the cancellation or reduction of debt” (258).
Commercialization and Patron-Client Relations
Commercialization of agriculture imposes heavy burdens on the peasantry and alters the ecology of land exploitation. It also disproportionately strengthens the bargaining power of large landowners. James C. Scott (1976: 57–90) has found that the process of commercialization of agriculture creates subsistence insecurity. Commercialization exposes the peasantry to new market-based insecurities (e.g., price fluctuations), which affect income patterns irrespective of yield fluctuation (therefore, a novel layer of risk is added to the peasant’s risk burden). The increased demand for market-valuable products encourages landlords to require an even greater yield of cash crops and, therefore, to exact increased rents. This precipitates the indebtedness of the peasant.
Furthermore, patron-client bonds begin to erode. This occurs because of the concentration of commercially oriented land in the hands of a few landowners (i.e., latifundialization). This latifundialization leads to landlord absenteeism which degenerates the face-to-face communication between the peasant-client and landlord-patron. It also subjects the peasants to external economic pressures from, for example, moneylenders and merchants. Perhaps most importantly, the increased bargaining power of the landlord-patrons weakens the moral force of patron-client bonds as the peasants begin to understand landlord-patronage as exploitative.
Agrarian Patron-Client Relations as Relations of Exploitation
There has been some debate concerning the nature of patron-client relations. George Foster (1963) and Eric Wolf (1966/2001) have described patron-client relations as mutually beneficial, voluntary social contracts between the peasant and the landlord. Accordingly, the landlord, being in a much better position to provide goods and services, is seen as a benefactor.
Foster (1961, 1963) proposed the “dyadic contract” model (a model of the voluntary two-person reciprocal relation between, e.g., the patron and the client) to attempt an explanation of how the campesino (i.e., peasant) “incurs and maintains the obligations that are essential to his ‘defense’” (1963: 1280). But, according to Cristobal Kay (1980), the analyses of Foster and Wolf are problematic insofar as they conceal relations of exploitation and “propagate the image of the patron as benefactor” (758, my translation).
For Kay, Wolf is correct about the peasants’ precarity and subsistence orientation but neglects the fact that even in situations where patrons appear generous or philanthropic, their clients tend to have disproportionate obligations. Kay suggests that the correct view of patron-client relations is, rather, to see them as relations of exploitation (759). Based on an analysis of Chilean campesinos, Kay also remarks that patron-client relations impede horizontal solidarity and class consciousness, and wealthy patrons like hacendados (i.e., large landowners) regularly manipulate patronage relations to this end. Kay even forcefully remarks that patron-client relations, in general, are an “obstacle to the liberation of the peasantry” (761, my translation).
The finding that patron-client relations impede peasant social movements has also been expressed by Peter Singelman (1973), who found that “vertical exchanges in which the peasants participate have the tendency to weaken horizontal solidarity within the peasant class” (384, my translation). Similarly, Jeffery Paige (1978: 66, 152) notes the role of patron-client bonds in discouraging the subversive behavior of cultivators and the role of alternative, horizontally based groups in the formation of revolutionary agrarian social movements.
Paige (1978) documents a classic example of the relation of exploitation in the relation between patron and client that helps illustrate the ways in which landlord-patrons exploited their peasant-clients. In Peru, on a certain hacienda, the patron required the peasants to meet certain obligations (condiciones) in exchange for usufruct permissions (167). Some of these obligations were clearly exploitative. For example, the patron required the peasants to “donate a fixed number of days per month (días de condiciones) to the lord’s domain lands” (167). Not only were the peasants to donate their labor on land other than their small subsistence plot, the patron maintained “a peremptory right to the labor at the time of his choosing” (167). In fact, the patron demanded donated labor on the domain lands precisely at the times when the peasants needed to cultivate and harvest their own produce (due to identical agricultural cycles (167).
The Erosion of Patron-Client Bonds
The commercialization of an agrarian society brings about certain shifts in the pattern of land ties and social relations, particularly the erosion of patron-client bonds. We can describe the basic theory of the impact of commercialization on patron-client bonds in the following way. When the peasant’s land ties are strong—or, more quantitatively, when the cultivator’s income is derived primarily from landed property—the social structures of the peasants will tend toward isolation and relations of vertical dependence, such as patron-client relations (Paige 1978: 29, 167). In the process of commercialization, the peasant’s ties to the land weaken: The concentration of landed property for commercial production in the hands of a few systemically weakens ties to the land across the spectrum of cultivating groups. The peasant’s consequent reliance on wages (in cash or, in kind, as in sharecropping), rather than land, facilitates relations of horizontal interdependence and independence from landlord-patrons (Paige 1978: 29–30). Essentially, subsistence insurance mechanisms are increasingly characterized by horizontal interdependence, that is, forms of mutual aid which we can call “balanced reciprocity” (Oakman 1986: 66), rather than patron-client bonds of the landlord-peasant type.
In addition, commercialization also increases the relative bargaining power of landowners. According to James C. Scott, there is a point at which the peasants will come to understand their vertical relations with landlords not as mutually beneficial but exploitative and, consequently, patron-client structures lose their moral force (Scott 1972: 6, 10–37). Importantly, Scott, based on his study of South East Asian peasants, found that the legitimacy of the patron is dependent on the degree to which the peasant’s minimum requirements of subsistence and physical security are met (1972:7). Moreover, “[a] breach of these minimum requirements in the exchange relationship serves to undermine the legitimacy of the patron class and to provide the peasantry with a moral basis for action against agrarian elites” (1972: 7). The balance of exchange, in Scott’s estimation, depends on the “relative bargaining position” of the persons involved (1972:7). Through commercialization, the owner of a commercial latifundium will have an increased relative bargaining position. Given the landowners requirement of economic advantage in the commercial economy, the obligations of peasant-clients begin to more significantly outweigh the benefits they incur. In fact, Scott notes that even small deviations from the “agreed balance” that diminish client benefits are “likely to inspire fierce resistance” (1972: 11). In addition, as mentioned above, with commercialization comes absenteeism, which degenerates the face-to-face communication and social bonds between the landlord-patron and the peasant-client (1972: 31–37).
However, it is important to note that not all patron-client bonds are abandoned. Foster (1963: 1282) describes another type of dyadic relationship: “supernatural” patronage. This form of patronage involves the relationship between a supernatural being and the peasant. The deity or patron saint (e.g., Jesus Christ, the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patron saints of individual villages, etc.) provide some form of security or protection (insurance and assurance). Such bonds are thoroughly social. For example, they may contribute to the functioning of village religious rites and ceremonies, which function as religious leveling mechanisms, namely, mechanisms by which the relative surplus wealth of a family in the village is used to pay for religious rites and ceremonies and provide security for the village. It is also worth noting, as an example of supernatural patronage, that the Virgin of Guadalupe was seen as a patron for the peasants who formed Zapata’s revolutionary army during the Mexican Revolution, despite the spirit of a horizontal orientation (see Wolf 1958).
Nevertheless, one example of the breakdown of patron-client relations in the biblical text, which captures the illegitimacy of existing patronage relations, is Luke 16:19–31, where the rich man (the patron) fails to provide for the basic subsistence security of Lazarus and bears severe punishment (van Eck 2009).
The Commercialization of Roman Palestine
There are two inter-related indices of agricultural commercialization of particular relevance for Roman Palestine. The first is latifundialization—by which we refer to the concentration of landed property for commercial cultivation—and the second is the related weakening of peasant land ties. Pliny the Elder, for example, documents the rise of latifundialization, which was, in his view, ruining Italy (Naturalis Historia 18.11). Palestine was not an exception (Oakman 1986: 75). Several papyri attest to latifundialization in Palestine. From the Ptolemaic period PSI 6.554 (258 BCE) and P. Lond. 7.1948 (257 BCE) provide documentary evidence of large estates in Palestine oriented toward cash crop cultivation, which likely demonstrates a practice of commercial cultivation for export in Palestine, including Galilee (Kloppenborg 2008: 47). P. Yadin 44 (third year of the Bar Kokhba revolt)—which documents a large estate owned by Shimon Bar Kokhba—also provides documentary evidence of latifundia in Palestine.
Some of the parables of Jesus also contain images of such latifundialization. The parable of the tenants (Mark 12:1–8) depicts a large viticultural estate. Similarly, the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:16–20) shows a rich landowner engaged in intensive cultivation. The parable under discussion here in Luke 16:1–8a affords us an image of a latifundium oriented toward the cultivation of commercial crops.
Absenteeism is a particularly strong index of commercial latifundialization. Documentary evidence of absenteeism in Roman Palestine is found in the Yadin Papyri. In P. Yadin 44, for example, Shimon Bar Kokhba owns an estate near the Dead Sea village of En-Gedi and is effectively an absentee landlord, as he entrusts the administration of the estate to a parnas (administrator). Furthermore, among the Jesus traditions, we find absenteeism in, for example, the parable of the tenants and the parable of the unjust steward.
The process of latifundialization involves the accumulation of land through expropriation. One way the landowners could expropriate peasants and accumulate land was by practicing debt–perpetuating legal procedures like foreclosure upon default on loans, which could be catastrophic for peasants. In a society undergoing commercialization, most peasants, already in a precarious situation, are likely to default (Paige 1978: 60, 289, 306). This is evident in the fact that foreclosure correlates with a rise in tenancy and land insecurity (Paige 1978: 289; Scott 1976: 7; for Palestine see Kloppenborg 2008). For early-Roman Palestine, Douglas E. Oakman has also discussed this process of foreclosure upon default and its relation to land accumulation by the elite (Oakman 1986: 72–77; Oakman 2008: 139–40).
Furthermore, commercial plots—which refer to those parcels of land geared toward commercial crop cultivation—are assumed in the parable of the unjust steward. The question of plot size is important because this relates to the interpretation of the magnitude of the debts. Lin Foxhall, working with the archaeological data, notes the existence of large-scale tenancy in antiquity. Jane Rowlandson notes the practice of large-scale leasing in Roman Egypt. There, large-scale lessees were known as misthōtai, and one could find a mix of large-scale and small-scale tenancy (Rowlandson 1996: 58–59). Large-scale tenancy would naturally be implicated in commercial rather than subsistence cultivation.
The Characters of the Parable in their Social Context
The Rich Man
The fact that the landowner of the parable is called plousios immediately invokes the moral economy of the peasant—that subsistence ethic and associated attitudes which, in the minds of the peasants, position the rich in opposition to the poor. Jesus, then, implies a condemnation of the landlord by calling him ‘rich.’ Consider the other ‘rich man’ parables—in them, Jesus condemns the rich man (Luke 12:16–12; 16:19–31). But he is not only rich; he can be none other than an absentee landlord of a latifundium. In v. 1, the fact that he has a steward suggests that the rich man is depicted as an absentee landlord who entrusts his estate to a manager.
The Steward
The context of the parable suggests that the steward (oikonomos) is the administrator or bailiff of a latifundium, here a large estate specializing in the cultivation of cash crops (wheat and olives). This steward is reported to have wasted (diaskorpizōn) the landlord’s belongings, which may not have been surprising to an ancient Mediterranean audience. Jesper Carlsen (1995) notes that “it has to be admitted that deceitful or fraudulent bailiffs appear not to have been an unusual phenomenon” (87). Cicero, speaking on Verres and his dishonest vilicus, says, “but when [Verres] heard presently how everything on which the fertility and cultivation of his farm depended had been taken offand sold, he would think himself badly treated and would punish that bailiff most severely” (In Verrem 2.3.119; translation by Carlsen [1995: 87]). Columella also notes that negligence was one of the largest problems of the bailiff (De Re Rustica 1.2.2).
Some commentators have argued that the steward is a slave (e.g., Beavis 1992 and Udoh 2009). Classically, at least, private estate managers (vilici/oikonomoi) tended to be slaves (Carlsen 1995: 57). Of course, these often servile managers are not to be mistaken for non-servile civic oikonomoi (government officials) as we find, for example, in Ptolemaic Egypt and Erastus in Rom 16:23. One might argue that the steward has the agency that slaves generally did not have, namely, the ability to make voluntary economic decisions which affect the course of one’s own life (see vv. 3–4: ti poiēsō…egnōn ti poiēsō). However, the vocabulary of this agency may be a Lucan addition to the parable. Luke uses the construction ti poiēsō and variants to signal introspection during a crisis (see Luke 3:10–14; 12:17; 20:13; Acts 2:37). Furthermore, Luke adds ti poiēsō to the parable of the vineyard tenants (Luke 20:13; cf. Mark 12:1–8). This suggests that Luke may have added this construction to enhance the sense of urgency in his re-telling of Jesus’ parable here in 16:1–8a. Even if the steward is given some agency in the parable (and such stewards did have some degree of agency despite their servile status), the choice is between hard labor and begging or, put in different terms, punishment by forced labor and flight to the city to beg. Importantly, Mary Ann Beavis (1992) suggests that the use of skaptein (v. 3) “suggests that the slave [i.e., the steward] is in danger of being sent off to hard labor in the quarries, a form of imprisonment—the worst fate imaginable for a slave” (49). Furthermore, we find a parallel in the language of the master-slave relationship in Q 12:43 (doulos…ho kurios autou); Luke 16 similarly has ho kyrios mou, vv. 3, 5. Interestingly, Luke substitutes oikonomos for Q’s doulos in 12:42, which could suggest that Luke, at least, understood the oikonomos to be a slave, which is also evident in Luke’s addition of oiketēs to Q 16:13 (for the text of Q, see Robinson, Hoffmann & Kloppenborg 2000).
The Debtors
The debtors (chreopheiletai) are likely large-scale commercial tenants. Large-scale commercial tenants certainly existed in antiquity. From the Ptolemaic period, we have papyri such as P. Col. 3.54 (256 BCE), in which some tenants of the very large, 10,000 aurora estate of Apollonios (diokētēs of Ptolemy II Philadelphus) owe a large sum of wheat (over 2,500 artabai), among other things. These tenants rented 100 aroura (around 68 acres, assuming 0.68 acres per aroura; see Oakman 1986: 64) and the amount of wheat in modern measurement is approximately 2,750 bushels (assuming 1.1 bushels per artaba; see Oakman 1986: 64). We find another example of commercial tenancy in P. Ross. Georg. 2.19 (141 CE)—a lease agreement for a vineyard—where the rent is 2,100 silver drachmae and 400 keramia (jars) of wine in addition to various fruits.
It is possible, and perhaps likely, that the commercial tenants of the parable would have subleased the land under their usufruct to small-scale tenants. This is most consistent with the findings of archaeological land surveys of Palestine, which have predominantly found small plots (averaging 2.5 hectares or just over 6 acres; see Applebaum 1976: 657). The debtors, therefore, function as representatives for an entire collective of peasants. Second, the type of crops mentioned in the parable, wheat and olives (inferred from the oil), are market-valuable crops—that is, they represent commercial crops. Third, a commercial orientation is evident in the parable, given the size of the debt and that it was to be paid in kind. As for the size of the debt, Oakman finds that the amount of wheat (100 cors) corresponds to a yield of 25 metric tons and a land area of 100 acres (Oakman 2008: 268). For the oil, 100 baths correspond to 267 15-liter jars and a plantation of 146 olive trees (Oakman 2008: 269). On this basis, we may expect the debtors of the parable to be large-scale commercial tenants, tenants who cultivate cash crops destined for export.
Furthermore, the debtors are probably not small-scale tenants who owe the accumulated arrears of several years. It is questionable whether landowners, especially those oriented toward export crop production, permitted their tenants to accumulate arrears in rent. Arrears, in general, had harsh consequences for the tenant. Penalties were implemented for those who could not pay their rents or loans. Matt 18:21–35, for example, even refers to the imprisonment of debtors. Otherwise, the securities of the tenant would be confiscated, and the landowner would evict the tenants. Some leases carried the explicit provision for legal action in the case of default or arrears, which could result in the court-sanctioned confiscation of the tenant’s securities or exaction of the stipulated monetary and interest penalties. To illustrate, P. Col. 3.54 (250 BCE), mentioned above, has preserved a preparatory document for a case against some large-scale tenants on the estate of Apollonios for arrears in rent, where the appended copy of the lease agreement includes a penalty clause. The tenants are liable to have their securities confiscated by Zenon, the administrator of the estate, and suffer eviction (see esp. lines 18–22; see also, e.g., P. Cair. Zen. 2.59283 [250 BCE], a letter concerning confiscation of belongings due to arrears).
With this evidence in consideration, it is hardly likely for landowners, such as we have in our parable, to allow tenants to accumulate arrears to the extent of the debt in the parable. This would be especially true in the case of highly valuable cash crops, considering that the landowner lives off the rent and markets it to make a profit.
An interesting hypothesis concerning the identity of the chreopheiletai has been offered by Douglas E. Oakman (2008: 269): They could be kōmogrammateis (village scribes) who represent their respective villages and provide an account of the total village debts. It is clear from the papyrological record that kōmogrammateis were tasked with providing accounts of the total arrears or debts of the village (Bazzana 2015: 41). For example, in a short letter preserved in P. Tebt. 1.17 (114 BCE), a certain Polemon instructs Menches, the kōmogrammateus of the Egyptian village of Kerkeosiris, to have all the arrears of the village assessed (stochasai hōs panta ta enopheilomena peri tēn kōmēn en metrōi estai, lines 5–7).
Oakman’s hypothesis also rests on the literacy of the debtors: The debtors in the parable appear, at first sight, to be literate enough to forge the accounting documents (grammata). The implication of the notion that the debtors are village scribes is that they are representing the debts of entire villages. While most people in Jesus’ Galilee were illiterate, kōmogrammateis were certainly able to write to some degree. Certainly, the size of the debt becomes more realistic if we consider the debts as those of a collective of peasants (Oakman 2008: 269).
However, it is possible, rather, that such kōmogrammateis, while perhaps present in their scribal capacity, only serve the function of assessing the debts and forging the accounting documents and are not to be mistaken for the debtors themselves. It is apparent from the documentary evidence that the use of the first person singular in lease contracts is used despite illiteracy and that others, who were literate, would write and sign on their behalf (e.g., P. Mich. 5.314 [first century CE]; P. Mich. 5.311 [34 CE], among numerous Egyptian papyri). Therefore, it is reasonable to infer that, while the debtors are not likely kōmogrammateis, the presence of village scribes is expected, thus explaining the literacy in the parable.
In terms of nomenclature, it is critically important to note that the term chreopheiletai compels the reader or hearer to interpret the parable through the lens of indebtedness, and it puts these individuals in opposition to the rich man as creditor. The reality of the burden of debt on the peasantry is, therefore, a key to the interpretation of the parable. It is worth remembering that as commercialization develops in a peasant society, the landlord’s relative bargaining power increases so that the peasant, in an ever-precarious position, comes to understand their relations of vertical dependence (patron-client bonds) as relations of exploitation. Importantly, indebtedness is one of the key indices of exploitation in agrarian societies. Debt, in agrarian societies, is the mode of exploitation par excellence.
Moreover, the increase in tenancy, of which we have an image in the parable, promotes horizontal relations of mutual aid (balanced reciprocity) and landlord-peasant bonds erode and lose their moral force. It is unsurprising, then, to discover the peasant’s satire of superordinates or, in other words, the ridicule of those who benefit from commercialization in an agrarian, zero-sum society.
Subversive Peasant Satire
‘Satire,’ for the present article, is not defined in terms of literary genre. Rather, satire is, as Matthew Hodgart (2010) suggests, “the process of attacking by ridicule” (7). Subversive peasant satire develops as an ideological product of the agrarian zero-sum class conflict over limited property and resources. In an agrarian society, the rich only accumulate resources and landed property at the expense of cultivating classes. Furthermore, satire may arise from what George Foster (1965) called the “image of limited good,” that is, the peasant’s perception that all goods are in limited supply. Certainly, the Gospel of Luke contains indices of the zero-sum conflict, especially through the reversal of fortunes motif (e.g., Luke 1:53; 6:21, 24–25; 12:16–20; 16:19–31). The characteristics of subversive satire include indices of the zero-sum class struggle, the reversal of fortunes, and the foolishness of superordinates.
Peasant subversive satire is a strongly represented folkloric element in peasant resistance or protest during times of overt class conflict. Political protest satire of this type has been described in many peasant cultures. Quintessential examples come from 19th-century Russia, when an agricultural export market was imposing itself on the Russian peasantry and where latifundialization was endemic (Lenin 1977: 486). We see some of this satire in the Chastushka, a genre of protest songs sung by the peasants (Lopatin 1951: 188). Similarly, satirical political rhymes among the peasants in Mexico in the early 20th century, associated with the expansion and modernization of the sugarcane latifundia, have been described by Robert Herr (2007). But in prose folklore, satire can be seen in great color in peasant folktales.
In folktales of the Russian peasantry, the peasant almost invariably outwits the wealthy and powerful. In one tale, for example, a certain peasant persuades the tsar to switch clothes, and thus, when the tsar tries to re-enter his palace, his staff does not recognize him— and the peasant “came home with the (tsar’s) money… and he laughed at the tsar, at how easy it was to fool him” (Haney 2015: 250).
From Irish peasants, we have an interesting folktale of a tenant who owed rent, but a single penny was all he had. He was very anxious because the magistrate who demanded the rent was a ruthless man who threatened to confiscate the peasant’s belongings if he did not pay. But the peasant met a kind man along the way who gave him a great number of magic gold coins with which to pay the rent. When the peasant went to pay the rent, he placed the coins on the magistrate’s table, and the magistrate was excited. The peasant demanded a receipt, and so he received the receipt. But then the gold coins turned into cakes, and the magistrate was furious because he had been tricked! (Yeats 1888/2007: 203–05).
In many cases, as with the examples above, peasant satire takes the form of the “reduction” of the opponent’s social status (Hodgart 2010: 115). Reductions can appear in using animals to caricature the opponent. Other times a reduction can be a portrayal of the opponent as compulsive or lacking self-control. Perhaps more often, it involves the characterization of the opponent as foolish. The peasant almost always outwits the wealthy and powerful. I will argue below that the parable of the unjust steward is a peasant satire of absentee landlords wherein the landlord is fooled.
The Parable as Subversive Peasant Satire
If we can assume that the ‘rich man’ is viewed by Jesus’ audience in a negative light, then it would come as no surprise to discover that the parable is a sample of subversive peasant satire. Hodgart (2010) defines reduction as “the degradation or devaluation of the victim by reducing his stature and dignity” (115). One technique of reduction is the reduction of the opponent’s physical stature (Hodgart 2010: 115–18), which the narrator does in Luke 19:3, where the physical stature of Zacchaeus (a rich chief tax collector) is short. And it is comical that Zacchaeus must run to climb a tree to see Jesus! The satirist may use animals to reduce the opponent, not unlike the moment in which Jesus uses invective against Herod, calling him a “fox” (alōpēx) in Luke 13:32. There are two elements of the parable from which we can establish its satirical nature. The first is that the steward’s deception and the master’s praise are unjust in that they fail to address the burden of debt for the peasantry. The second is the foolishness of the landlord.
The Injustice: The Failure to Cancel Debts
The steward is likely called ‘unjust’ (oikonomon tēs adikias) because he failed to cancel the debts completely. Debt amnesty is not foreign to Luke. In Luke 7:41–42, we have the parable of the debtors where the creditor canceled the debts for both chreopheiletai (cf. hekaston tōn chreopheiletōn in Luke 16:5). Furthermore, the steward is called unjust only after he reduces the debts (he is plainly called oikonomos in v. 3). The modifier tēs adikias invokes a moral code (Luke 16:8, 9; 18:6; Acts 1:18; cf. Jas 3:6). The term is used in Luke-Acts in a moral sense, as in the parable of the unjust judge, where the judge is described as having no regard for God or humanity (Luke 18:1–5, 6). Ultimately, the steward acted in a way that would be compatible with maintaining the estate’s functionality. However, the peasants understand this and find it fundamentally incompatible with their moral orientation, given the burden of debt (see Goodman 1982; Oakman 2008: 199–242). The collection of debts, in general, was at some point unacceptable for the peasants, as we see in the parable of the tenants in Mark 12:1–8. Oakman (2008) suggests that “the peasantry view the debt collection as “theft” and unjust” (271).
It was not unusual for the peasantry to demand debt cancellation. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, for example, writes that the plebeians who were called to enlist in the military, refused to fight unless they were granted debt amnesty (chreōn aphesin; Ant. Rom. 5.63.1). And in a society in which patron-client relations were paramount, Dionysius records that the patricians would willingly “cancel the debts of the poor” (apheinai ta chrea tois penēsi) in order to obtain the “goodwill of fellow citizens, from which they were sure to derive great advantages both private and public” (Ant. Rom. 5.63.2 [LCL, Carey]).
One could compare Dionysius’ comments to the petition for the cancellation of debts in the Lord’s Prayer: Q 11:4 has similar language, especially with the use of the verb aphiēmi (kai aphes hēmin ta opheilēmata hēmōn). This language in the Lord’s Prayer has been compared to the various amnesty decrees from Ptolemaic Egypt (e.g., P. Köln 7.313 1[86 BCE], which has the language: aphiēsin de kai tous ophilontas [sic, for opheilontas], line 22; see Bazzana 2015: 165–80). It is, therefore, reasonable to assume that a call for debt amnesty was part of the ideological and cultural context of Luke 16:1–8a.
The landlord in the parable is called a rich man—certainly, he has the funds to cancel the debts. There is no evidence from the parable that the rich man secures redemption by praising the steward’s actions, just as the rich men elsewhere in Luke are similarly not redeemed. Therefore, the landlord’s praise is seen as unacceptable. There was nothing unusual about partial debt remission (see Goodrich 2012). Such reductions were common in manorial modes of production and were part of the periodic beneficence from landlord-patrons. In this fashion, Pliny the Younger could afford to periodically reduce the debts of his large-scale tenants to attempt to keep them cultivating his estate (Epistles 9.37.2; 10.8.5). It is reasonable, therefore, to infer that the partial remission of debts was a form of the periodic beneficence characteristic of traditional patron-client relations. The periodic reduction of debt, especially in times of harvest failure, was, ultimately, a way to reduce tenancy turnover on an estate—it kept the latifundium in operation (see also the examples in Goodrich 2012: 559–563).
The Praise: The Foolish Landlord
In our parable, the satirical aspect can be seen in that the landlord is incompetent in controlling his bailiff. This is evident not only from the beginning of the parable but also from the fact that the oikonomos ultimately gets away with defrauding his master. That the landlord praises the steward despite this steward’s financially injurious and deceitful actions shows that the landlord is fooled.
Why does the landlord praise his steward? The steward cleverly outwits the landlord by falsifying the documents so the landlord would think he collected a large part of the debt. The adverb tacheōs in v. 6 and that the steward is still within the role of oikonomos suggest that the landlord has not yet reviewed the documents. The rich man is, after all, an absentee landlord. Accounting documents were also routinely sent by mail (e.g., P. Cair. Zen. 3.59343 [246 BCE], which, interestingly, reads su oun grapson hēmin tina oikonomian on lines 5–6). The parable portrays the rich man as oblivious and consumed by a love of money. Because the rich man is an absentee landowner, he cannot, at least immediately, verify whether the tenants have in fact paid the balance recorded in the documents. The text indicates that the landlord is absent, which is especially evident from the use of dieblēthē autō in v. 1 (which signals the requirement of third-party report) and the landlord’s question to the steward in v. 2: ti touto akouō peri sou? Furthermore, the fact that immediately in v. 1, the rich man “had a steward” (eichen oikonomon) signals to the listener that the rich man is an absentee landlord (otherwise, why would he have an administrator?). Furthermore, one can draw an interesting analogy from Q/Luke 12:43, where the landlord is absent (elthōn ho kyrios autou heurēsei).
The adverb tacheōs in v. 6 suggests that the steward intends to deceive the master. The amounts of debt must be written down with urgency before the landlord or a representative arrives to carry out whatever investigation is necessary. Furthermore, the structure of peasant folktales best fits the view that the landlord is deceived. The steward takes on the function of the trickster (“rascal”), as has been observed by John D. Crossan (1974: 207). How is the landlord deceived? The landlord sees the new balances in the documents and interprets them as reflecting partial payments of the debts. Therefore, it appears to the landlord that, for once, the steward did his job. Indeed, if the steward were to record the entire debt as paid, perhaps the landlord would have reasonably been suspicious.
The landlord’s praise of his steward is not surprising. The steward is not immediately dismissed before an inspection of the documents. The authority of the steward over the debtors in the parable suggests he is still in the role of oikonomos and that dynē in v. 2 is, therefore, an example of the use of the futuristic present tense. This means that the landlord must first verify the mismanagement by reviewing the documents. He expects that the documents would reveal the steward’s mismanagement but is surprised to find documents reflecting proper administration. How easy it was to fool the landlord!
Furthermore, the act of praising the steward can be seen as a ratification of the voluntary partial remission of debt and, therefore, the landlord functions as a typical patron. That the landlord is comfortable with what the steward did suggests that he does not know what took place and that the steward’s actions are not inconsistent with the landlord’s paternalistic modus operandi. Yet, the fact that he is easily deceived shows that the peasants understand this act of patronage as the concealment of a relation of exploitation and that any collection of debt would be unjust.
Concluding Remarks
The thesis of the present article is that the parable of the unjust steward is best understood as a sample of subversive peasant satire aimed at absentee landlords and exploitative patron-client relations of agrarian societies (i.e., those which perpetuate indebtedness). With a shift toward commercial agriculture, landlord absenteeism, and land insecurity, patron-client bonds begin to erode and give way to horizontal cooperation because the peasantry increasingly finds the vertical relationships exploitative. I argued here that the socioeconomic conditions of Jesus’ Galilee align well with this model of commercialization of agriculture. Accordingly, subversive satire is not a surprising component of subaltern Galilean folklore (of which the parables of the historical Jesus are representative). With the growth of a commercial economy, the landlord-patron’s relative bargaining power is increased and that of the peasant is decreased. Therefore, the peasants come to understand traditional patron-client relations as exploitative. The peasants then turn to other sources of subsistence security, including horizontal networks based on friendship and balanced reciprocity.
It should not come as a surprise that, in this light, nothing the rich man does can save him in the eyes of the peasantry—his ratification of the steward’s actions is consistent with something a rich man does. Certainly, in the other ‘rich man’ parables in Luke, the rich man is punished severely, and if these other parables provide any clue, the tale of the unjust steward is, rather, one of a foolish landlord. Certainly, the implication of this is an ideological orientation that is most consistent with the call for debt amnesty, not unlike that in the Lord’s Prayer.