^{page 198 note 1} Much of the literature is reviewed by Preisker, H., ‘Lukas 16, 1–7’, Theol. Literaturzeitung, LXXIV (1949), 86–92.Google ScholarFonck, L., Die Parabein des Herrn (Innsbruck, 1909), pp. 675–94 at pp. 675–6, 690, gives sub-bibliographies includingGoogle ScholarSchreiter, J. C., Historico-critica explicationum parabolae de improbo oeconomo descriptio… (Leipzig, 1803);Google ScholarMeyer, H. A. W., Kritisch-exeg. Kommentar āber d. N. T. (Göttingen, 1898–1902), p. 528 n. 2. Practically no help is forthcoming fromGoogle ScholarOesterley, W. O. E. (1936),Google ScholarLuce, H. K. (1936),Google ScholarSmith, B. T. D. (1937),Google ScholarFindlay, J. A. (1937),Google ScholarYoung, P. N. F. (1937);Google ScholarAnderson, F. C. in Exp. Tim. LIX (1948);Google ScholarDavidson, J. A. in Exp. Tim. LXVI (1954);Google Scholar or Paul, G. in Theol. LXI (1958). While much is gravely misleading there are occasional flashes of light. An instinct to make out that our steward was acting righteously made itself felt inGoogle ScholarWright, A., Interpreter (1911), pp. 279–87;Google ScholarFindlay, J. A., Jesus and his Parables (1950), p. 82;Google Scholar and Davidson, F. and others (eds.), New Bible Commentary (1954), p. 855.Google Scholar And Coutts, J. in Theol. LII (1949), 54–60,CrossRefGoogle Scholar correctly observes that there ought to be a progress of ideas from the Lost Sheep to Dives and Lazarus. The suggestion of Knox, W. L., Sources of the Synoptic Gospels, II (Cambridge, 1957), p. 93 is desperate indeed.Google Scholar

^{page 198 note 2} Preisker, , op. cit.: ‘Kaum eine Parabel hat den Exegeten so viel Schwierigkeiten gemacht…’Google ScholarJÜlicher, A., Die Gleidznisreden Jesu (TÜbingen, 1910), p. 495.Google ScholarZahn, Th. (1913)Google Scholar cited by Kögel, J., ‘Zum Gleichnis vom unger. Haushalter’, Beitr. zur Förderzmg christlicher Theologie, XVIII, V1 (1914), 581;Google ScholarRÜcker, A., ‘Übcr das Gleichnis vom unger. Verwalter’, Bibl. Studien, XXII, V (1912), 1–64.Google Scholar There is a brief recent treatment in Jeremias, J., Die Cleichnisse Jesu (3rd edn.Göttingen, 1954), pp. 30–3.Google Scholar The English transl. by Hooke, S. H. (London, 1954) may be consulted at pp. 33–5, 83, 127. A novel approach, taking hints from Syriac versions (which are, of course, not independent of our Greek sources), is that of the AbbéGoogle ScholarLarroche, E., Bull. de Litt. Ecclés. LIV (73), 1953, where a keen intelligence grapples with the appalling difficulties which ignorance of the fundamental facts must always produce.Google Scholar

^{page 198 note 3} Nicoll, Klostermann, Creed, Riggenbach, Schmid, Jeremias, G. Paul, C. K. Williams, and others believe it is Jesus. Tillmann, Fonck, Kögel, HÜtterrnann, Osty, Delitzsch, the A.V. and R.S.V., Leaney and others incline to the steward's principal, the master. T. W. Manson and C. H. Dodd, however, are not firmly decided either way. Schmid and Staab are nearly correct in suggesting that it does not matter who it was that praised the steward; but in fact the master's behaviour is itself part of the parable, as Tillmann, , ubi cit. p. 177, rightly pointed out.Google Scholar

^{page 198 note 4} The main centre of contention here is whether the passage is an explanation of the master's praising, or of the steward's conduct. Every commentator will take this according to his view of the identity of the κύριος, and the nature of the steward's act.

^{page 199 note 1} Most commentators think the steward's act was a ‘criminal expedient’ (Klostermann, , Luk. Eu., 1929;Google ScholarCreed, J. M., Gospel acc. to St Luke, 1930). Fonck tells some sad results of this view from the time of the Emperor Julian onwards:Google Scholarop. cit. pp. 685–6.Google ScholarTillmann, , op. cit. pp. 180–1, thought all the characters rascals, and many have seen the debtors as equally tainted with the steward. Preisker thinks the steward was committing himself utterly to mammon, but in fact the parable is a continuation of the theme started with the Lost Sheep and the Prodigal Son, and not in antithesis to it.Google Scholar

^{page 199 note 2} See the opinions of Wernle and Harnack discussed by HÜttermann, ubi cit. Jeremias, , op. cit. p. 30, who thinks that mammon had strictly nothing to do with the parable at all.Google ScholarJÜlicher, , op. cit. p. 513.Google Scholar

^{page 200 note 1} In the past much learning was expended upon the basis of this assumption, which is in fact unsound. See Sugranyes de Franch, R., Études sur le Droit Pakstinien í l'éEpoque Évangelique, (1) La Contrainte par Corps (Freibourg, 1946). Professor Jean Dauvillier occasionally verges unhappily near to this position: see his ‘La litterarwn obligatio des pérégrins…‘, Rev. Hist. de Droit Fr. et Étr. (1946–1947), pp. 136–8; ‘La Parabole du trésor et les droits orientaux’,Google ScholarRev. Int. des Droits de l'Ant. (3rd ser.), IV (1957), 107–15. In an extraordinary publication Walter Erdmann, who admits that the Jews retained their native system at least until the time of Vespasian, spent enviable learning upon our parable upon the totally unwarranted assumption that Roman law was applicable: ‘Ein römischer procurator omniuwn bonorwnGoogle Scholar in Judäa, z. Z. Christi?’, Z. der Savigny-Stifung fÜr Rechtsgesch., RÜm. Abt. LXIV (1944), 370–6.Google ScholarMitteis, , Reishsrecht und Volksrecht (Leipzig, 1891), pp. 33f. is actually cited to support the view that Jewish law alone was in force.Google ScholarRobinson, A. T., Luke the Historian… (New York, 1920), did well to be cautious. See the interesting story of the Roman commission to discover what the Jewish law contained in B.Ḳ. 38a= Soncino English translation, 215, and compare the discussion at B.Ḳ. 113b=Google Scholaribid. 667-8.

^{page 201 note 1} On Jewish agency see Simmons, L. M., ‘The Talmudic law of Agency’, J.Q.R. VIII (1896), 614–31;Google ScholarCohn, M., ‘Die Stellvertretung im judischen Recht’, Z. vergi. Rechtsw. XXXVI (1920), 124–213; 354–460;Google ScholarDembitz, L. N., Jew. Encycl. (1925), art. ‘Agency, Law of’ (1, 232−3);Google ScholarLevinthal, I. H., Univ. Jew. Encycl. (1948), art. ‘Agency, legal’ (1, 115−17);Google ScholarMaimonides, , Mishneh Torah, XII, 4,Google Scholar cited below from Klein's, I. trans. The Book of Acquirition, Yale Jud. Ser. 5 (New Haven, 1951);Google ScholarHorowitz, G., Spirit of Jewish Law (New York, 1953), ch. 33.Google Scholar

^{page 201 note 2} וחומB.M. 96a=Sonc. 5; B.Ḳ. 113b=Sonc. 6674; Ḳid. 41b-42a, 43a=Sonc. 216; Nazir 12b; Ned. 72b. Horowitz, , op. cit. 538.Google Scholar

^{page 201 note 3} Ḳid. 43a=Sonc. 214−15; B.M. 8a = Sonc. 37. Shammai (temp. Chr.) thought that the principal would be liable by the laws of Heaven and compared II Sam, . xii. 9, but his view was a minority view.Google ScholarSimmons, , p. 623;Google ScholarHorowitz, , op. cit. pp. 545–6.Google Scholar

^{page 201 note 4} Erub, . 31 b.Google ScholarSimmons, , p.631;Google ScholarHorowitz, , op. cit. p. 556;Google ScholarCohn, , ubi cit. pp. 374f.Google Scholar

^{page 201 note 5} Horowitz, , op. cit. p. 551;Google ScholarCohn, , ubi cit. pp. 177f.,Google Scholarcf, . pp. 354 f.Google Scholar

^{page 201 note 6} A heathen, and a slave, have for various purposes defective capacities to be agents of a Jew. Horowitz, , op. cit. pp. 539–40.Google Scholar

^{page 201 note 7} B.M. iob=Sonc. 56−7; cf, .Google Scholaribid. 71b (ibid. 413); Ket. 98b=Sonc. 626. The numerous distinctions, depending, as some thought, upon the question whether the agent would alone derive pleasure from the act, are irrelevant for our purpose and need not be detailed. For a very special exception, of no relevance here, see Me’il. job = Sonc. 78–9. Simmons, , p. 624.Google Scholar

^{page 202 note 1} A steward could be a means of evading a spiritual penalty, where a husband performs through him duties he has forsworn: Ket. 70 b = Sonc. 436; Mishnah VII, 1, where Danby's trans. ‘guardian’ might mislead.

^{page 202 note 2} Ket. 85a=Sonc. 37; ibid. 98a-b=Sonc. 625; B.Ḳ. 102a-b=Sonc. 593. Maimonides, , op. cit. XII, 4, ch. 1.5, p. 209;Google ScholarHorowitz, , op. cit. pp. 552–3.Google Scholar

^{page 202 note 3} Cohn, , p. 144Google Scholar see also ibid. pp. 362 f.; Levinthal, , p. 115Google Scholar correspondingly the principal was not liable for harm sustained by the agent in carrying out his commission: Horowitz, , op. cit. p. 549.Google Scholar

^{page 202 note 4} The shaliaḤ, shaluaḤ (agent) is literally a messenger, ‘one sent’. On the priestly origin of agency, which is an agency for God and not for men (Ḳid. 23b=Sonc. 113), See B.M. 71b=Sonc. 424, referring to Ḳid. 41 b.

^{page 202 note 5} A broker is sarsor, a paid agent. The difference is brought Out in Maimonides, , ubi cit. ch. 2.6, p. 213;Google Scholarḥoshen, Mishpa, paras. 182–4Google Scholar (see Dembitz, , ubi cit.). An attorney (for purposes of litigation) was likewise distinct: the harsha'ah.Google Scholar

^{page 202 note 6} Levinthal, , ubi cit.;Google ScholarCohn, , ubi cit. p. 142.Google Scholar

^{page 202 note 7} Goldin, H. E., Hebrew Criminal Law and Procedure (New York, 1952), pp. 55–6;Google ScholarHorowitz, , op. cit. pp. 605 f., 615 f.Google Scholar

^{page 203 note 1} Maimonides, , op. cit. XII, 4, ch. 1.5, p. 209;Google ScholarCohn, , ubi cit. p. 144Google ScholarLevinthal, , ubi cit. p. 116.Google Scholar

^{page 203 note 2} See references gathered by Michelin, O.Friedrich, O. (ed.), Theol. Wört. N. T. V (1954), 151–3, s.v. οικονóμον.Google Scholar

^{page 203 note 3} See above, p. 201 n. 2.

^{page 203 note 4} Note the comment of R. Eleazar on II Kings xii. i6 in B.B. 9a=Sonc. 40: even where there is perfect confidence one must know precisely what one entrusts.

^{page 203 note 5} Friedrich, , ubi cit. It is interesting to see that ‘faithful steward’ is almost a technical term. Strack and Billerbeck give also the equivalent or, but this seems to mean ‘manager’, ‘treasurer’ (Jastrow). Delitzsch gives, which suggests ‘functionary’, ‘official’. He was definitely more than an έ;πιΤριρος,Google Scholar in spite of Fiebig, P., Die Cleichnisreden Jesu im Lichte der Rabbiniechen Gleichnisse (TÜbingen, 1912), p. 83 and Solazzi's comments on P. Freib. 9Google Scholar (discussed by Erdmann, ubi cit. p. 200 n. 1 above)Google Scholar in Aegyptus, v (1924), 1–19. Cf. B.M. 96a=Sonc. 556 and the typical steward, of Jewish history, Joseph, and also Obadiah.Google Scholar

^{page 203 note 6} See Horowitz, , op. cit. p. 555.Google Scholar

^{page 203 note 7} This is an invariable characteristic of all laws of agency. Even where the agent's authority is strictly outlined in his document of appointment (as often in GrecoEgyptian agencies) an excess of his appointment could be remedied, it is believed, by the principal's adopting the act whether specifically or by conduct. For instances of the application of this principle in Jewish law see Horowitz, , op. cit. pp. 540–1.Google Scholar

^{page 204 note 1} Fonck, (p. 685)Google Scholar and others (but not JÜlicher, , p. 498,Google Scholar nor Kögel, , p. 583) rightly observed that the unrighteousness or untrustworthiness of the Unjust Steward was his characteristic before the last dealings with the Debtors. The case is paralleled by that of the Unjust Judge,Google ScholarLuke, xviii. 6, whose act upon which Jesus places emphasis was in fact as righteous as was our steward's.Google Scholar The interesting and original suggestion of Sophie, Antoniades, L'Éu. de Luc (Paris, 1930), pp. 376 f., that έύήνσν… τμν οικονμμον τής άδικιδς means ‘praised the steward for his dishonesty’Google Scholar (cf., Blass-Debrunner (1954), para. 178, p. 115Google ScholarRobertson, , Grammar of the Greek N. T. (1934), p. 511) is shown by the context to be wrong.Google Scholar

^{page 204 note 2} Klostermann, E., Dos Lukas Eu. (TÜbingen, 1929), p. 162. The steward was not being given an opportunity to prove his innocence, as Staab suggested.Google Scholar

^{page 204 note 3} Jesus distinguishes his characters carefully. He could perfectly well have said ‘merchant’, ‘banker’, ‘money-lender’, ‘prince’, etc., if he had wanted to do so: there are, after all, ample instances of his doing so in appropriate cases. JÜlicher rightly saw (II, 500) that he was not a professional money-lender. Erchnann feels sure he was a Roman Handelshen! Both parts of this description are false. He was most probably supposed to be a well-to-do citizen hying in a city at some distance from the estate which may have been his ancestral home, and he was rich in any sort of wealth, and drew his income from any miscellaneous sources of profit that any hearer of the parable would be likely to imagine. That he was primarily and personally engaged in high finance, or that he was a slothful ‘oriental’ luxury-lover are both probably the sort of exaggerations which Jesus would not expect his hearers’ imaginations to harbour.

^{page 204 note 4} Baron, (who emphasizes this aspect of contemporary life in Palestine), op. cit. 1, 272, 280.Google Scholar

^{page 205 note 1} ibid. p. 278.

^{page 205 note 2} Deut, . xv. 7 f.; xxiii. 20 f.;Google ScholarExod, . xxii. 24;Google ScholarLev, . xxv. 36Google Scholar f. There is a vast literature on usury. See below, p. 209 n. 2. See references cited in Strack, H. L., ‘Wucher bei den Hebräern’, Realencyclopädief. prot. Theol. und Kirche, 3rd edn. xxi (1908), 518–21;Google Scholar and Bernfeld, , Marcuse, , and others cited in Eisenstadt, S., 'En Mishpat (Repertorium Bibliographicum…) (Jerusalem, 1931), pp. 309–11.Google ScholarDembitz, L. N., Jew. Encyc. (1925), art. ‘Usury’, xii, 388–90.Google ScholarEisenstein, J. D., Ozār Dīnīm u-Minhāgīm (New York, 1917 repr. 1938),Google Scholarart. Ribbit, pp. 380–1.Google ScholarGlobus, E. L., ‘Law of Usury up to the Close of the Talmud’ (Heb.),Ha-Mishpaṭ, II, i–ii (1927), 23–43.Google ScholarNeufeld, E., ‘The Prohibition against Loans at Interest in Ancient Hebrew Laws’, Heb. Unwn Coil. Ann. xxvi 355–412.Google ScholarMaimonides, , Mishneh Torah, XIII, 3, chs. 4–10, cited fromGoogle ScholarRabinowitz's, J. J. trans. The Book of Civil Laws, Yale Jud. Ser. 2 (New Haven, 1949).Google ScholarStein, S. in J. Theol. St. IV, 161–70.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

^{page 205 note 3} Tern. 6a‒b=Sonc. 32−4; B.B.90b= Sonc. 372−3 citing Amos viii. 7; B.K.94b=Sonc. 548−9; Jer. Talmud, trans. Schwab, B.M. pp. 127–8. On the word gazlanGoogle Scholar see Horowitz, , op. cit. p. 613.Google Scholar

^{page 205 note 4} Lev. xxxv. 36, 38; Num. xv. 38, 41; Lev. xix. 36 as interpreted by Raba in B.M. 61 b=Sonc. 366−7. It is important to remember that the Torah prescribes no punishment for taking interest as such.

^{page 205 note 5} Moore, , op. cit. I, 33.Google ScholarMishnah, , Avot 1, i;Google ScholarBerakot, 1, i (Danby, , pp. 2, 446); Bab. Tal., Ber. 4b. See references at p. 206 n. 2 below.Google Scholar

^{page 205 note 6} B.B. 86b-87a=Sonc. 353−4. The very full discussion is at B.M. 61b-70a=Sonc. 368−407; B.K. 103a=Sonc. 598.

^{page 205 note 7} See the behaviour and arguments of R. Papa and R. Nahman, the one a great businessman and the other a somewhat conceited ‘notable’ (B.M. 66a=Sonc. 387), and Raba's comment on the former: B.M. 65a, 68a=Sonc. 383, 396. R. Ḥama hired out his coins in specie per diem (ibid. 69b- Sonc. 405). For a general comment on rabbis who made (usurious) mock advance-purchases because they ‘wanted a supply of good wine’(!) see B.M. 73b=Sonc. 424.

^{page 206 note 1} The phrase is too well known amongst modern Jewish businessmen to require references—it is a fiction of partnership. The general expression (B.M. 62 b) is referred to as a provision in fraudem legis by Cohen, B., Mordecai M. Kaplan Jub. Vol., Eng. Sect. (1953), p. 123, n. 92. The literature on Islamic fictions and tricks (Kniffe in German, ḥyal in Arabic) is very large.Google Scholar See Schacht, J., ‘Die arabische ḥijal-Literatur ‡‘, Der Islam, XV (1926), 211–32, where in our present connexion reference is made toGoogle ScholarJuynboll, , Handbuch, 274 ff.;Google ScholarSachau, , Muhammed. Recht, 281;Google Scholaral-Ḥaṣṣaf, , ed. Schacht, 65, 1 ff. There is a reference in Abā Ḥātim Maḥmād ibn al-Ḥasan al Qazwīnī, Das Kitāb al-Ḥial fil-fiqh (Buch der Rechtskniffi), ed. and trans. Schacht, J. (Hannover, 1924), pp. 16–1 (IV, 15). Schacht's article Ribā in the Encycl. of Islam (III, 1148–1150)Google Scholar is invaluable. See also Michaux-Bellaire, , ‘L'usure’, Arch. Marroc. XXVII (1927), 313–34;Google ScholarAli, Khan, ‘The Moh: Laws against Usury and how they are Evaded’, J. Comp. Leg. XI (1929), 233–44;Google ScholarAnwar, Iqbal Qurashi, Islam and the Theory of Interest (Lahore, 1946).Google Scholar

^{page 206 note 2} Yev. 90b=Sonc. 614−15; Sanh. 46a, with a reference to I Kings xviii. 31 f. Moore, , op. cit. 1, 57–65, citing Jos. Ant. XII,, 10, f. On the strictness of interpretation during the procuratorial period see B.M. 30 b = Sonc. 188−9. It has been suggested that the period of Christ coincided with a tendency to stretch the court-law in the direction of strictness (apart from the Pharisaical tendency always to mitigate punishments), and that therefore there might have been a movement towards tightening-up the court-law relative to usurious contracts; but of this in fact no evidence has come to light.Google Scholar

^{page 206 note 3} Globus, , ubi cit. p. 41 (lines 3−4): ‘dust’ is forbidden in the Courts of Heaven, though one may be glad that it is not forbidden in the Torah. It is not the duty of the court to force people to obey the spirit of the law. According to Raba the debtor is entitled to delay paying ‘dust of usury’, for it is not binding upon him in conscience. For a similar contrast between legal freedom and liability to Heaven see Ḳid. 42 b = Sonc. 212: ‘he who sends forth a conflagration by a deaf mute …‘. The problem regarding usury was of very long standing, and it must be remembered that experience of the practices of the Babylonians and other ancient Near East peoples must have shown the way to evade the Torah long before the Greeks could have supplied precedents. Pr. xxviii. 8;Google ScholarEzek, . xviii. 13; xxii. 12; Ps. cix. 11;Google Scholarcf., Ezek. xviii. 8, 17; Ps.xv. 5;xxxvii. 26;Google ScholarHabak, . ii. 6;Google ScholarEzek, . xviii. 22; xxxiii. 15;Google ScholarAmos, ii. 8;Google ScholarJob, xxii. 6; xxiv. 3. Neh. v is most interesting, and note the correction from the impossible ‘hundredth’ to ‘debt’Google Scholar in Strack, , R.E.P. T.K. XXI (1908), 520. On the behaviour of Jews in Egypt some Jewish writers display undue caution, but Stein is obviously right in saying that they did on occasion lend at interest to Jews as well as non-Jews, and loans to be repaid in grain are evidenced: Corpus Papyrorum Jud. 1, 165−8.Google Scholar

^{page 207 note 1} R. Meir's view that directly stipulated usury was recoverable by the debtor who paid under protest or duress together with the principal is not the final view: B.B. 94b = Sonc. 392−3; cf. the view of Yanai, R. in Jer. Taithud, B M. pp. 11sf.; B.M. 72a=Sonc. 416 and following.Google Scholar

^{page 207 note 2} B.M. 61b-62a=Sonc. 368−70; B.Ḳ. 94b=Sonc. 548−9, 112a=Sonc. 654; Jer. Talmud, B.Ḳ. p. 77. The present writer knows pious Muslims who do not touch interest accruing on their bank deposits, but leave it there for their heirs.

^{page 207 note 3} Tern. 6a-b=Sonc. 32−4.

^{page 207 note 4} Eisenstein, , ubi cit. p. 380, citing Jonathan Eivashitz. The definition of ‘dust’ given by Rashi (Sukah, 40b) is not entirelysatisfactory: A thing which is not the main prohibited thing but depends on it is called ‘dust’. ‘Dust of slander’ is not real slander but onlya’side’,‘facet’, of it, ‘Like dust that goes up from a thing that is being ground in a mortar.’ But if it were of the same substance it would be the ‘main prohibited thing’ itself. Rabinowitz translates as ‘quasi-usury’, Klein ‘shade of usury’.Google Scholar

^{page 207 note 5} B.B. 164b; for ‘dust of usury’ see B.M. 61 b, 67a (65a in he Mishnah itself); Maimonides, ubi cit. Hilkot Malveh, 6. 1; Horowitz, , op. cit. pp. 488 f. ‘Dust of sheviM'it’, Sukah 40b; Ḳid. 20. ‘Dust of idolatry’, Tosefta, Avodah Zarah, 1, 10. ‘Dust of robbery’, Maimonides, Edut. 10, 7. Talmudic Encycl. (Heb.), 1, art.Google Scholar

^{page 208 note 1} Loans of mere temporary convenience (B.M. 63 b = Sonc. 378); loans between rabbis; loans for the use of the Temple (heḳesh, B.M. 57b=Sonc. 341); and loans of the property of minors for their advantage (B.M. 69 b-70a = Sonc. 405−6).

^{page 208 note 2} As a result a man might lawfully borrow wheat, etc., in such circumstances without firing a time for repayment and even though the market-price is unknown to the parties (Maimonides, , op. cit. XIII, 3, ch. 10.2, p. 114). From this two points emerge: (i) even the Pharisees permitted objectionable usurious contracts under colour of a possibly fictitious absence of necessity on the borrower's part; and (ii) a loan of 100 kor of wheat simpliciter might still be objectionable ‘dust of usury’ according to the Pharisees if it was a conversion into wheat of a debt of money or some other commodity and the debtor had no wheat at the time of conversion (Mishnah, B.M.. i (Danby, p. 355);Google ScholarMaimonides, , ubi cit. ch.,10.6, p. 115). It is not impossible that Jesus was aiming at the Pharisaical position under (i) above. In any event a contract which concealed usury was against the spirit of the Torah.Google Scholar

^{page 209 note 1} Reallexikon der Assyriologie, II, 123–31 (Darlehen).Google ScholarLeemans, W. F., ‘Rate of Interest in Old Babylonian Times’, Rev. Int. des Dr. de l'Ant. V (1950), 7–34. Loans of naturalienGoogle Scholar at interest are evidenced in Kohler, and Ungnad, , Assyrioche Rechtsurkunden (Leipzig, 1913), no. 309, p. 203, no. 325, p. 210 (where wheat s lent at 50 per cent interest), nos. 307, p. 203, and 311−13, pp. 204−5 (where barley is lent at the same rate); and compare with these the most important no. 314, p. 205 where ‘pure oil’ is lent at 100 per cent interest, i.e. double the interest payable on grain. Loans of money to be repaid in naturalienGoogle Scholar are evidenced in Iraq, xvi (1950), 41,Google Scholar ND 2320; p. 45, ND 2335; Schorr, M., Altbabylonische Rechtsurkunden (Leipzig, 1913), nos. 49, 50, 52 at pp. 82–4; notice also the contract at no. 106, p. 155, where repayment in bricks or money is promised with a penalty for non-payment by a particular month.Google ScholarDriver, and Miles, , Babylonion Laws, II, 39. An instance where a ‘contract of supply’ has a strong speculative character suitable for concealing usury (though in fact in Babylonia, so far as we know, usury needed not to be concealed), and a loan of money had to be repaid in crops at the harvest, so that a much larger amount was promised than could have been bought with the money before the harvest, is discussed exhaustively with references,Google Scholar by Professor Erich, Pritsch in ‘Zur juristischen Bedeutung der śubanti-Formel’, Aittestamentliche Studien (NötscherFestschrzft), Bonner Bibl. Beit. I, pp. 172–87 at pp. 182–4. This was the model upon which Jewish lenders in Palestine framed that contract which is severelyattacked bythe Pharisees as ‘dust of usury’.Google Scholar

^{page 209 note 2} That the Greek laws in use in thc Levant differed radically from the Jewish is proved (if proof were needed after representative papyri have been studied) by R. Safra's remarks at B.M. 62a-b= Sonc. 371−2. The Romans and Greeks (like any people given to borrowing) disliked interest (fenus, τμχος), but while at times its limits were regulated or it was entirely prohibited by law, it was neither immoral by any fundamental code of morality, nor, for the most part, illegal unless it were stipulated for above the limit (as in England after the time of Henry VIII). And there must always be a difference between what is prohibited and what is legally unenforcible. See Stein, S. in Hist. Jud. XVII, 7,Google Scholar and KlingmÜller, in Pauly-Wissowa, , R.E. VI, 2187 f.;Google Scholaribid. vii, 1207.

^{page 209 note 3} That is to say if they had either been usurious when they commenced, or had been restated in a usurious fashion. Note the reservation from the Pharisees' standpoint at p. 208 n. 2.

^{page 209 note 4} Thus he was in fact morally in a stronger position, and so, according to the Pharisees, was the debtor who accepted the release. For restitution was not to be accepted lightly, nor in every case, even when it was offered out of regard for Heaven. However, release from a usurious debt was free from objection on every score, for restitution of a specific existing thing was never reprobated (Maimonides, , op. cit. xiii, 3, ch. 4. 5, p. 90) even though the restorer ought to be encouraged to be moral.Google Scholar

^{page 210 note 1} LXX, IV Kings iv. 1; Matt. XVIII. 25. R. Sugranyes cited above, p. 200 n. I.

^{page 210 note 2} Luke himself gives us in vii. 41−3 an example of forgiveness of debts to distressed fellow-Jews. Jesus constantly urged lending without interest and release of debts, but this was typical Jewish moral teaching. ‘Avoda Zarah 4a cited by Strack and Billerbeck, II (1924), 163.

^{page 210 note 3} The exact force of έύήνεσεν seems to have escaped commentators. It is true that it could have been used to signify merely ‘applauded’, but the use of the word in general (see Liddell and Scott, for Arndt and Gingrich are not so clear) supports the implication of adopting, sanctioning, and (to any relevant degree) ratifying, as well as approving and commending.

^{page 210 note 4} Horowitz, , op. cit. pp. 696 f.; Maimonides, op. cit. XIII, 3, ch. 27.Google Scholar

^{page 211 note 1} B.M. 6aa=Sonc. 371. Hence it was wicked to lend without witnesses (B.M. 75b=Sonc. 436)! It must be remembered that atJewish law witnesses are not merely witnesses to signature or sealing, but are expected to testify to the transaction itself.

^{page 211 note 2} Horowitz, , op. cit. p. 697.Google Scholar

^{page 211 note 3} The Talmud is clear that although (irrespective of liens) the movable property of the debtor could be seized and sold at the court's order (the present writer has not yet found evidence in Jewish practice of contracts entitling the creditor to seize the debtor's goods and lands ‘as if upon a decree of court’ as was usual in Greco-Egyptian usage) the plaintiff would not be able to pursue an action unless his documentary evidence was in perfect order. An oral debt did not create a lien over the debtor's immovables: Horowitz, , op. cit. p. 717. For examples of the discussion of such evidence and its admissibility see Maimonides, op. cit. xiii, 3, ch. 27, and for the law relating to documentary support of an alleged obligation,Google ScholarAuerbach, L., JÜdische Obligationenrecht (Berlin, 1870), ch. 2.Google Scholar

^{page 211 note 4} Oral agreements were by no means unenforcible, and in remote country districts they must have been frequent, but by the time of Jesus they were distinctly unusual between parties to contracts of any considerable value. Horowitz, , op. cit. pp. 445 f.Google ScholarMaimonides, , op. cit. XIII, 3, ch. 11. I, p. 116. Our steward exchanges one document for another. Had the entire amount in question been usurious he should (like an Indian lender to this day) have torn the old bond as a sign of its cancellation—B.M. 6a= Sonc. 370.Google Scholar

^{page 211 note 5} B.M. 62b=Sonc. 372. Maimonides, ,Google Scholaribid. p. 114. Because he would be paying R not more than 10 den, worth of wheat, and R would not be obtaining, either certainly or possibly, any ‘increase’ on his outlay. Of course all these examples assume that the statement, ‘I owe R so much’, is true. Money-lenders are quite capable of making their clients sign an acknowledgement for double what they receive, but that is another question which we can ignore for the present purpose. Compare with the acknowledgement suggested above the transaction, very similar to that of our steward, detailed and discussed at B.M. 65a = Sonc. 382. Maimonides, , op. cit. XIII, pp. 114–15 (ch. 10. 2, 4), cf. p. 109 (ch. 9. 1): ‘no agreement may be made with respect to produce until the market price has been ṗublished’,Google Scholar and ibid. 5, p. 111.

^{page 212 note 1} B.M. 75a=Sonc. 432. See ibid. 72b=Sonc. 420−1, which provides an example of the sort of contract in which our steward used to engage on his master's behalf. Maimonides, , op. cit. xiii, p. 115 (ch. 10.3).Google Scholar

^{page 212 note 2} B.M. 65a-b=Sonc. 383−4. Maimonides, , op. cit. XIII, p. 114 (ch. 10.2). The Jews in medieval Europe introduced Christians to these well-worn devices, and traces of similar methods of evading citation in the ecclesiastical court for usury are many. Loans, or fictitious loans, of grain or commodities, for sale or otherwise, were commonly resorted to and evidence of these practices is afforded in the statute 37 Henry VIII, c. 9 (1545),Google ScholarBacon’s, F.Draught of an Act against an Usurious Shift of Gain (Works, II, 1765, 494),Google Scholar and Home, A., Mirrour of Justices (1642), at p. 165 of the 1646 edn.Google Scholar

^{page 212 note 3} For such restatements of principal and interest (common in countries where there were legal bars to the total amount of interest recoverable at one time, as India) see B.M. 72a=Sonc. 415, and compare Maimonides, , op. cit. XIII, pp. 115–16 (ch. 10.6).Google Scholar

^{page 213 note 1} Literally, ‘deaf (usury)’, or ‘silent (usury)’. B.M. 65a= Sonc. 383. A specimen is given at B.M. 72b=Sonc. 420−1.

^{page 213 note 2} The difference between a calculation mentioned by Fonck (p. 682) and that given by Strack and Billerbeck is slight. The latter show that 100 bat= 39·456 hectolitres or a little over 868 gallons; 100 kor = 393·93 hectolitres or a little less than 1083½ bushels. There is no reason to suppose an exaggeration for effect, and the difference in value between the two amounts, if any, is irrelevant (cf. Jeremias, also K. H. Rengstorf Das Neue Testament Deutsch, iii).

^{page 213 note 3} E.g. supply of victuals, seed or manure; hire of workmen; advances on crops that failed; loans to pay land-revenue and tithe. Note, as Riggenbach, E., ‘Zur Exegese und Textkritik zweier Gleichnisse Jesu’, Aus Schrjft und Geschichte… (Schlatter-Festschrsft) (Stuttgart, 1922), pp. 17–26, that Χρεύειλέtgr;ης is is after all Χρεύειλέtgr;ης. Riggenbach thought that they had had naturalien supplied to them, but the amounts are very large, and one may not be right in assuming compound interest, though that is of course not impossible. JÜlicher was right (II, 500) and so alsoGoogle ScholarNicoll, W. R. (1897)Google Scholar and Easton, B. S. (1926), but not Fonck, on the question whether it mattered what was the origin of the debts. Schmid (cit. inf. n. 4) at p. 210 shows a proper indifference to the question.Google Scholar

^{page 213 note 4} As Fonck (1909) and particularly Kögel (1914), comparing the ‘Kolonat’ in Africa and adducing the Latin translation villicus for ‘steward’. The difficulties of ‘How much do you owe my master?’ are not squarely faced. Fonck reasonably wonders how long the ‘debtors’’ gratitude would last. Zahn thinks that only the purchase-price of the naturalien was owed and compares the tenants' rent in grapes (or wine?) in Luke, xx. 10.Google ScholarSchmid, J., Das Ev. nach Lukas (Regensburg, 1951), pp. 209 f.Google Scholar and Staab, K. (ed.), Echter Bibel. Das N. T. Des Ev. nath Markus und Lukas (WÜrzburg, 1956), pp. 97 f., think the master was a great landlord. But Jesus would have said so (see above p. 204 n. 3). Findlay (1937) accepted that they were tenants in arrears.Google Scholar

^{page 213 note 5} As Jeremias: ‘wholesalers’. Fonck points out some difficulties, but there are others. Staab thinks they were either tenants or dealers. This is a better approach: it does not matter.

^{page 213 note 6} Because merchants do not normally respond to an agent's summons in this fashion when the balance happens to be against them; they do not expect to be asked bluntly, ‘What do you owe?’; and are not kept standing while being questioned. The last point is conclusive.

^{page 213 note 7} A subfarmer of revenue could be in debt (a) to his head-farmer, or (b) to a third party who had advanced him money to enable him to acquire the right to subfarm the area in question. In the case of (a) the debt would be specifically to the head-farmer in person and not to any ‘master’. In case (b) there is no distinction from our point of view between such a debt and any other source of indebtedness.

^{page 213 note 8} Riggenbach points out that if the documents were really tenancy-agreements the proprietor would not have been bound (the following year?) by the steward's act—certainly the ‘debtors’ position would have been much weaker. He is right in surmising that they cannot have been sub- tenants, for the loss would have been entirely the steward's own (apart from other objections) and one of the points of the parable would have been lost. The vital point is that under any such agreement the obligee owes nothing at all until the time for payment (for example, the harvest) arrives. To this there can be only two objections. First, it may be urged that they may be in arrears. Even so, the time for payment of the outstanding debt would be the harvest; and since neither the steward nor the master is depicted as ignorant of economics and indifferent to normal methods of management an explanation would be called for why the alleged tenants had not been evicted and sold up. That they had been allowed to accumulate arrears would be so unusual in those hard times, and would throw so favourable a light upon the worldly pair that express indications of that situation would be expected. Secondly, it may be urged that by coincidence the rents might have been due just then. However, apart from the fact that such a coincidence is not to be expected without express indication (parables are after all not puzzles so far as their basic facts are concerned), the steward had only then been reported for ‘waste’. This would occur only when the relative emptiness of the granaries and cellars enabled the informer (and any servant sent by the master to check on the state of affairs) to see at a glance that the master’s asets should have been more ample at that time of year and in prevailing conditions. The moment when the harvest was being garnered and rents were about to be paid, when perhaps the assets were beginning to appear, as always at that time of year, at their most abundant, was hardly the appropriate time for such allegations as were made against the steward. But all this is assuming too much. There is no indication that the steward was supervising a predominantly agricultural household. His waste may have been a matter of engaging too many dancers and musicians, paid for out of a chest to which he alone had the key. Assumptions about tenants, rents, and the like are all otiose.

^{page 214 note 1} As contemplated in B.M. 73a=Sonc. 423.

^{page 214 note 2} A range of 33½ per cent to 25 per cent is mentioned by Strack, ubi cit. Justinian's provisions, if they were ever enforced, assume a state of civil security and easy recoverability of loans with interest which must have been an advance on normal Levantine experience. For India see below, p. 216 n. 1.

^{page 214 note 3} Firth, C. B., ‘The Parable of the Unjust Steward…‘, Exp. Tim. LXIII (1995), 93–5. But the interpretation of the discovery was wrong; nor did he grasp the point regarding the oil.Google Scholar

^{page 215 note 1} Objections to interest as such vanished before our principal basic texts were compiled, but left clear traces. ‘Righteous interest’ was fixed at one-eightieth per mensem (or 15 per cent per annum) on cash loans. The subject is very complex, and we are concerned only with the outlines. See Pandurang, V. Kane, History of Dharmaśāstra, III (Poona, 1946), pp. 417–18. The MānavadharmaśāstraGoogle Scholar (BÜhler, G., Laws of Manu, Oxford, 1886, p. 280) strongly reprobates several types of usury.Google Scholar

^{page 215 note 2} The reason for the differentiation was not apparent after the original conception behind the scriptural rules had been forgotten, and all late medieval and modem text-books of dharmaśāstra proceed upon the false assumption that the limits applied indefinitely and whatever the rate of interest mutually agreed between the parties per mensem. However, the original notion left distinct traces in the commentary of ViśvarÜpa on Yājftavalkya II, 40 and Lakṣmīdhara (eleventh century) in his Kṙtyakalpataru, Vyavahāra-kāṇḍa (Baroda, 1953), p. 284; and in the denials by the eighteenth-century authority jagannātha (trans. Colebrooke, H. T., A Digest of Hindu Law… (Madras, 1864), pp. 82, 89) of the truth of interpretations which evidently survived even so late as then. Fortunately the same principle which animated the Indian authorities was at work elsewhere also: we have seen the position in the ancient Near East, and Byzantium knew similar rulesGoogle Scholar (Corpus jur. Civ., Cod. IV, xxxii, 26. 1).Google Scholar The Indian authorities are cited briefly by Kane, , op. cit. pp. 422–3. Their mutual discrepancies, which are not unusual, can be ignored for our purpose. Kauṭilya (or Kaualya) in the pre-Christian ArthaQstra (III, 11 = Trivandrum edn. ii, p. 64; trans. R. Shama Sastry, p. 197) strongly suggests that grain repayable at the harvest can carry 50 per Cent interest (as Jerome says was usual in his day) until the harvest, but if the value of the loan has been ascertained and the debt is treated as if it were money there should be no limit. The ancient Indian method of limitation was twofold: first it was provided that legal interest should not exceed 15 per cent per annum (see above), then that on loans of money the total limit was 100 per cent; on grain, oil, etc., we are not told what was the relevant legal interest, but we are told that the maximum for grain was 200 per cent (a ‘triple’ return), for fluids 700 per cent (an lsquo;octuple’ return)—and of course the multiplication subsumes the corresponding period within which repayment is to be expected.Google Scholar

^{page 215 note 3} See Kane, , p. 420;Google ScholarJagannātha, , ubi cit. pp. 78–90. The above assumption is borne out by the figures, which are corroborated by custom. Wheat must have borne (at least where the orthodox rule was followed) 30 per cent per annum (cf. the provision of Justinian, which corresponds as to proportion); and oil bore 105 per cent per annum.Google Scholar

^{page 216 note 1} νājñavalkya-smriti, II, 39. The medieval precedent- and form-book,Google ScholarLekhapaddhati, p. 21, shows 25 per cent as the annual interest on loans of wheat.Google Scholar

^{page 216 note 2} Above, p. 208.

^{page 216 note 3} On oil-production in Palestine see the invaluable Dalman, G. (formerly Marx, G. A.), Arbeit und Sitte in Palästin, IV (1935), 153–281.Google Scholar

^{page 216 note 4} See Encyclopedia Britannica, art. ‘Olive Oil’, 14th or current edn. Enciclopedia Italiana, art. ‘Olivo’, XXV, 296f.

^{page 216 note 5} Preisker rightly notices that expulsion was irrevocable and discussion was futile. The steward did not beg as in Matt, xviii. 26.Google Scholar

^{page 216 note 6} Riggenbach, , ubi cit. at p. 18Google Scholar (cf. ibid. p. 24), rightly emphasizes that this is the ‘point’ of the parable, and many others have realized that ‘right action while there is time’ is a great part of the lesson which it seeks to impart.

^{page 216 note 7} As Schmid and Staab see. The wrong notion, namely that the old documents were falsified, is found in Strack and Biflerbeck and elsewhere. Fonck was doubtful: wax tablets were in any case out of the question. Jewish lawyers were alive to the possibilities of forgery. The custody of the document was evidently with the creditor, as appears in the Talmud. The contrary practice of depositing it in safe custody or in the hands of a third party is evidenced from the ancient Near East and from Hellenistic Egypt.

^{page 216 note 8} םדוימיךבךךיךלתיךךיךנרנךןנך

^{page 217 note 1} Maimonides, , op. cit. XII, 4, ch. 9, 1–5, pp. 237–9;Google ScholarHorowitz, , op. cit. pp. 551–2, 679.Google Scholar

^{page 217 note 2} This has been missed by all commentators except Nicholl, W. R., Expositor's N. T. (1897) at p. 584. It has been shrewdly pointed out that the steward, and his imitators, cannot suppose that those whom they have befriended will predecease them! On the construction of the Greek there is no reason whatever to take δέΞωντδι (v.4) as referring to the debtors, who are not even mentioned until the following verse. Fonck was wrong (p. 687) and Gerda KrÜger improved upon the error: she imagined that the steward wanted his ‘present’ to produce proportionate gratitude.Google Scholar

^{page 217 note 3} On charity and its power see Strack and Billerbeck, w, Exk. no. 22, Die altjādische Privatwohltätigkeit, pp. 536−58; Fiebig, , op. cit. pp. 211–12. On ‘eternal tabernacles’ see the very ingeniousGoogle ScholarPautrel, R., ‘Aeterna Tabernacula’, Reth. de Sc. Rel. XXX (1940), 307–27. His conclusion at p. 321 seems, however, to be wrong.Google Scholar

^{page 218 note 1} Kittel, G. (ed.), Theol. Wört. N. T. IV (1942), 390–2 (F. Hauck). AugustineGoogle Scholar (Vigouroux, F. in Dict. de la Bible, IV (1912), 636); Suidas' explanation (ed. Bernhardy, II, 679) is wrongGoogle Scholar (Nestle, E. in Encycl. Biblica, in (1902)). A list of biblical and talmudic references appearsGoogle Scholaribid. p. 2914, col. 2. Despite Fonck (p. 689), Kögel (pp. 588−90) and Riggenbach (pp. 21 f.) μagr;μωνάς τς άδικΣδς which =is ‘wealth which (and which alone) is unrighteous’. R. seems to suspect this at p. 24; cf. Hauck, cit. sup. para. 2 (a). Honeyman, A. M., ‘The Etymology of Mammon’, Archivum Linguistwum, IV, i, 60ff.;Google ScholarBlack, M., Aramaic Approach to the Gospels and Acts, 2nd edn. (Oxford, 1954). Mamon meant wealth, and ‘unrighteous wealth’ was opposed to ‘righteous wealth’ (cf. LXX, Is. xxxiii. 6). For mamon in the sense of’ill gotten gains’, see Hauck, ubi cit. para. 2 (b), (c). Unrighteousness is relative to acquisition, not expenditure. So Indian law tells us that wealth could be black, spotted, or white according to its manner of acquisition.Google Scholar

^{page 218 note 2} Lev., xix. 18;Google ScholarRom, xiii. 9–10;Google ScholarGal., v. 14: the 206th affirmative cominandment.Google ScholarMoore, , op. cit. I, 116; II, 85f.; 142f.; 151.Google Scholar

^{page 218 note 3} Deut., xxiii. 18–19;Google ScholarMatt, xxvii. 6;Google ScholarMishnah, , B.I. 10. 1; (P. Talm.) B.M. 7a=Sonc. B.M.29–30; Zeb. 8.1; Tern. 6.1 f. Likewise, Seventh Year produce was forbidden: Mishnah, Shev. 8.8;Google ScholarHorowitz, cf., op. cit. pp. 614, 616. It was a basic rule (as in India) that offerings must be owned. It is of interest that in Islam it has not always been thought objectionable to give ill-gotten gains in charity:Google ScholarSarkar, J. N., Mughal Administration (Calcutta, 1924), p. 112. But there may be a difference between giving one's own ‘unrighteous mammon’ and giving that which one has inherited from others.Google Scholar

^{page 218 note 4} God: Strack and Biflerbeck on 16.9b (p. 221).