Here is an updated version of a two thousand year-old story:

A wealthy man discovered that his financial assistant was cheating him, and therefore gave him notice. Naturally, the financial assistant was worried about what would happen to him once he lost his position. So in order to have friends who would look after him, he did the following:

He called up somone who owed the wealthy man a million dollars. "Send him a check for half that amount," he told the debtor, "and I'll see that the whole debt's canceled." He did this with several debtors, making useful friends for himself. And then his boss found out what he was up to. To the surprise of the financial assistant (and perhaps to our surprise too), the wealthy man commended his crooked assistant, because he had behaved so wisely.

Is there a moral to this peculiar story? Yes, there is: The children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light.

If you feel you recognize this strange tale, you are right: It's the parable of the unjust steward, from Luke 16.

But what is it about? Even Luke seems puzzled; he appends a couple of verses that don't seem to have much to do with the original story.

For us addicts, who even in recovery spend much of our time looking for the easier, softer way, it offers a sobering thought: No matter how clever we may think we are when it comes to manipulating the world, there's always someone cleverer than we are. But there is a deeper meaning than that. If we are "children of light," then we've ceased dealing in the dog-eat-dog world of the wealthy man, his dishonest assistant, and the debtors who were perfectly happy to defraud the wealthy man as long as they could blame the assistant for putting them up to it. Our practice of the last three Steps does not make us worldly-wise -- it makes us innocents again. The children of this world may take advantage of our innocence, but what does that matter when our attention is fixed upon being children of light?