MAMMON IN THE AGE OF THE ALGORITHM

Reflection on the holy Gospel reading for the third Sunday after the Feast of Holy Cross

Old Testament reading: Genesis 42:18-21; Proverbs 1: 2-9; Isaiah 54:1-4
Holy Gospel reading: St. Luke 16:1-13

Few of our Lord's parables unsettle as much as the story of the steward who, on the very brink of ruin, cheats his way into favour and is, astonishingly, commended for it. Christ is certainly not blessing fraud. The steward remains unjust, and nothing in the parable excuses his earlier wastefulness.  What the master commends is his shrewdness, his sudden recognition of the seriousness of his condition that the present arrangement is coming to an end, and his decisive use of the short time remaining to him.

Christ tells that the tragedy is the “children of this age” showing greater urgency in securing a temporary future than the “children of light” show in seeking the Kingdom of God. We frequently live as though our possessions, offices, relationships, influence, and even our earthly lives belong to us permanently. The steward finally understands three truths that he had previously forgotten-the wealth in his hands belongs to another, his authority is temporary, and an account will be required. 

We sing in Friday Matins (Sheema Namaskaram) of this truth that stands at the heart of the Christian understanding of human life:

“How fearful is the morning when the Lord
Will come and the creation will tremble,
The judge will sit; the books will be opened
He will bring to light all the hidden things – Halleluiah
You who know all things have mercy on me”

The previous chapter, St. Luke 15, quietly prepares us for the unjust steward. The shepherd, the woman, and the younger son each hold something that ultimately belongs to another. The sheep, in Scripture’s larger vision, belong to God; the coins belong to a household larger than the woman herself;  and the inheritance belongs within the father's house. Yet the younger son mistakes a gift for an independent possession and squanders it in a distant country.

Significantly, St. Luke uses the same language when introducing the steward of chapter 16. The younger son squanders the father’s property, and the steward squanders the master’s goods. Both have wasted what did not truly belong to them. Both suddenly face the consequences and arrive at the same question: “What shall I do?” Yet their paths diverge.

The younger son turns vertically. At the lowest point of his life, “no one gave him anything.” (St. Luke 15:16) Turning towards his father, he offers no strategy for restoring his former position and no defence for his conduct. He genuinely repents and confesses: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you.” (v.18)

The steward turns horizontally. Rather than returning in repentance, he secures his future by obligating those who may later receive him. The younger son lays himself bare and places his hope in the mercy of the father. The steward places his hope in the gratitude of debtors.

This contrast exposes one of the most subtle spiritual temptations-the desire to secure the future without confronting the truth of the past. Repentance cannot be delegated, brokered, or negotiated. We are most like the steward when we place our confidence in networks, influence, and reputation, forgetting that every hidden thing ultimately stands revealed before God.

Unfortunately, the cover-up of abuse in church and other forms of leadership often works in precisely this way. Where leaders who have wronged the vulnerable are shielded by peers or by hierarchs, reassigned quietly, or protected by mutual favours, the steward's logic of self-preservation is at work. The currency is not money but silence, reputation, and reciprocal protection. Meanwhile, the same institution may preach the prodigal son to the congregation, urging every believer to confess, and repent, while its own leaders secure their future through a network of obligations. Clerical leadership that teaches the road of the prodigal son but walks the road of the steward has inverted the Gospel.

Christ also warns that we cannot serve both God and mammon. Mammon has become far subtler than the coin in a purse or the grain in a storehouse. Today it appears as the performance metric that determines a person's worth, the follower count that quietly governs identity, the algorithm that profits from attention and anxiety, and the public image that must be protected even when truth is sacrificed. Christ says- “make friends for yourselves by unrighteous mammon, that when you fail, they may receive you into an everlasting home.” (St. Luke 16:9). Mammon does not merely risk failure. Its failure is assumed. Wealth fails. Markets fail. Influence fails. Institutions fail. Recessions, illness, conflict, and economic upheaval simply make visible what the Gospel has always declared, that every earthly security eventually crumbles.

The steward's wisdom is that he acts before the collapse. He reduces debts not because he has become selfless but because he wishes to secure his own future. Nevertheless, real burdens are lifted, and his actions create space for others under debt to breathe.

This is part of the unsettling force of the parable. Christ does not permit us to divide the world neatly between pure people who do good and corrupt people who do evil. The steward is no outsider prophet. He is a manager working within a system he did not create. That describes most of us. We are managers, professionals, accountants, loan processors, engineers, executives, teachers, clergy, administrators, and employees working within structures we did not create and cannot completely control. We often exercise limited authority within systems much larger than ourselves.

The parable therefore refuses two excuses; we cannot claim innocence because we did not design the system, nor can we claim helplessness because the system is imperfect. Christ calls us to use whatever influence we possess on behalf of those who bear the heaviest burdens. The person with access to the ledger may not be able to abolish the entire system but may still be able to reduce a burden. The person inside an institution may not possess ultimate authority but may still be able to speak for someone whose voice is ignored.

St. Luke gives us a living example of such stewardship in Joanna. In St. Luke 8:3 she is among the women who supported Christ's ministry from their own resources, while in St. Luke 24:10 she appears among the first witnesses of the Resurrection. Her husband Chuza served as a household manager under Herod Antipas. The steward acts only after he is dismissed while Joanna acts while her position remains intact. She gives from her possessions while still within Herod's household. Her wealth is entangled with the court of an unrighteous ruler, but she refuses to let that entanglement have the final word. She directs what is available to her toward Christ. Joanna begins inside the ledger of Herod's household. She ends as a witness and bearer of news no mammon could ever purchase- "The tomb is empty, and the Lord is risen."

The witness of St. Yeldho Mar Baselios, commemorated on October 03, embodies this same vision of faithful stewardship. In advanced age he undertook the difficult journey to Malankara in response to the needs of the Church. He came without the forms of power the world of mammon ordinarily admires. Aged, physically vulnerable, and wearied by travel, he nevertheless carried the true riches of apostolic faith and pastoral courage.

In an age governed by metrics, algorithms, reputation, and endless competition for attention, Christ's warning remains as urgent as ever-we cannot serve both God and mammon. The question is not whether we possess wealth, influence, authority, or platforms, but whether these possess us. And when the books are opened before the judgment seat of Christ, may we be found not as owners clinging to what was never ours, but as faithful stewards returning to the Master, the lives that were healed and burdens that were lifted.

In Christ,
Rincy