Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18; Psalm 90:1-8(9-11)12; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Matthew 25:14-30
So, we are drawing very near to the end of the long season after Pentecost. Its almost Advent, folks! The propers we get for this time of year tend to focus on eschatological themes, “eschatological” being a ten-dollar word that just means we are dealing with the “last things” – things that will happen at the end of the world as we know it.
The readings from the Prophets tend to look toward the “great and terrible day of the Lord.” The Epistles also follow the end-of-times theme. Last week and this week we read in St. Paul’s First Letter to the Thessalonians his exhortations for people to be ready, because Christ could return at any time, and it will be a surprise to everyone when it happens.
The Gospel readings we get are usually Jesus describing – mostly through parables – what things are going to be like when he comes back. So, last week we got the story of the wise and foolish virgins, which immediately precedes today’s reading. Next week, on the Feast of Christ the King, we will read one of my favorite passages in Matthew – the parable of the sheep and the goats. The goats, unfortunately, don’t come off well in that one.
Today’s Gospel starts with a man going on a trip. This man is very rich. He’s rich enough that he can turn over a massive amount of money to his slaves to take care of while he is gone. Interestingly, he doesn’t seem give them any instructions as to what to do with the money. He apparently just hands it to them and leaves. Five talents to one, two talents to another, and one talent to a third.
The word that is translated “talent” is the Greek talenton, which in Jesus’ day was a sum of money. Specifically, it was roughly equivalent to 15 full years pay for a day laborer. Unfortunately, through the years it has morphed into our word talent, meaning an ability or skill. So, we tend to get sermons that say, “Use your talents for Jesus, kids, or he’ll take them away.”
Now, I’m not against sermons that say we should use our talents for God’s glory — as long as we leave out the threat at the end. We should be using our talents for God’s glory. But like so many of our interpretations of parables, this one only scratches the surface. I’m also going to avoid the knee-jerk tendency to equate the master with God or Jesus, because I think when we do that we tend to figure we’ve solved the parable. We’ve figured it out, and we stop thinking about what we can really learn.
Let’s take a look at the generosity of the master in the story. He is going on a journey, and entrusts his slaves with money. The first one he gives five talents — that’s 75 year’s pay for a day laborer. He gives the second slave two talents — 30 years wages. The third, he gives the least, a single talent, which is still 15 years wages — probably equivalent to well over $200,000 in today’s money. He seems like a very trusting sort.
The first two slaves use the money to earn more through trade, but the third slave frets about losing the one talent he was given, so he buries it in the ground until the master returns. Trade involves risk, you see. When the master returns, he commends the first two, but is not exactly pleased with the third.
I don’t think Jesus is talking about using our talents or resources and having them increased. That’s not what talenton meant in the first century C.E. I think Jesus is talking about fear and risk, and how we can be so paralyzed by the first that we are afraid to take on the second.
The third slave is operating out of fear. He didn’t DO anything with the money because he was afraid. He had, apparently, told himself stories about what might happen if he lost the money. “I knew you were a harsh man,” he says to his master. He was worried about what his master would do if the lost the money.
This is something we all tend to do. We imagine consequences to actions we haven’t taken yet. We make up stories about how things might turn out, and they are almost inevitably worst-case scenarios. How often do we tell ourselves stories about what might happen, and frighten ourselves out of doing anything at all? How often do we fret about outcomes when we already know what we should do, even if it involves some risk?
How often do we dig a hole and even go so far as to bury ourselves in it to keep from risking failure?
And how many times do we find that there was nothing to fear after all?
Living the life of a follower of Jesus is inherently risky. You may notice that I did not use the word “Christian.” That is intentional. That name has been co-opted by people who don’t seem to believe they should actually do what Jesus told us to do. Being a modern “Christian” is easy, and it tends to be very popular. It’s much more difficult — and less popular — to be a follower of Jesus.
You put yourself at risk of being ridiculed, of being called names. You may be laughed at. In some cases, you can be physically in danger. But being afraid and hiding isn’t the answer.
What are we called to risk for the sake of the Gospel?
Everything.
But what do we really have to fear when we spread the Gospel?
Nothing.
So instead of being afraid of what might happen what if we just go ahead and do? Taking risks means having faith. In fact, I would say that taking risks is exactly what faith is for. Faith is the knowledge that God is with us when we take risks to advance His kingdom, when we step out of our self-imposed “comfort-zones” and do things we know we should do, but are not exactly certain that we can do. Faith is the knowledge that God is with us, even when it may feel like he isn’t.
And Jesus says we will rewarded for taking the risk! The first two slaves are allowed to continue with both the money they were given and the money they earned, and are given more responsibility! Faith can’t grow if it’s buried in the ground. Using our faith, taking risks for the Kingdom, is the way we grow our faith.
The parable is not about our skills and abilities. And it’s not even about the money. This parable, like most parables, is asking a question, one that we should ask ourselves every day.
Where is my faith? What am I willing to risk for the Kingdom of God?
Amen.
Becoming Dominican 