33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Matthew 25:14-30
November 16, 2008

Risky Investments

You must agree that the so-called Parable of the Talents ends harshly. The master lowers the boom on the last servant, not because he was wasteful or dishonest, but merely because he was careful. In the light of recent events on Wall Street, the slave in this parable looks pretty savvy, but according to the story, he never had his master’s best interests in mind.

The slave knows his master to be a shrewd, unscrupulous fellow, "reaping where he did not sew and gathering where he did not scatter seed," – the first-century equivalent a hedge fund executive who bailed out before the bubble burst. What’s more, this guy knows people who carry violin cases and wear pin-stripe suits with bulges under the breast pocket. Losing his master’s money would be very bad for this servant’s health.

And so, when he receives his talent – a huge sum worth at least a million dollars in today’s money – the third slave sits on it. He hides his strongbox in the ground and digs it up years later when his master returns from an extended trip to a certain country famous for chocolate, watches, and numbered bank accounts.

When the servant presents his talent, caked in mud and smelling of the root cellar, the master hits the ceiling. "Take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents," he says to the guys with the violin cases. "As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."

If that sounds to you like hell, it does to me, too. All of a sudden this surrealistic story, with its vast sums of money and its morally questionable master, becomes a story about discipleship, about living in the meantime between Christ’s resurrection and the full arrival of his rule over earth and heaven.

Parables are, by definition, "dark sayings," and notoriously difficult to interpret. I wouldn’t dare suggest that this story has only one meaning, but this is what I think it might be saying to you and me just now: Don’t be like this slave. Don’t play it safe with the lavish gifts God has given you, for you’re not only playing with grace; your playing with fire.

It’s easy to think of sin as breaking God’s rules – don’t lie, don’t steal, don’t covet, don’t commit adultery, and all the rest. This poor slave seems to have kept all of the rules. In this sense he is without sin.

But sin has another dimension. Sin is also missing the mark, falling short of God’s best hopes for us. In this sense this slave is more than a sinner. His sin lies not in what he does, but in what he fails to do with what he has been given.

When I was a child my grades in school were always pretty good. There were never as good as my twin sister’s grades, mind you, but they were mostly A’s and B’s. Hers were always A’s. When we brought our report cards home, my parents never compared Brenda’s grades to mine. That would not have been fair. But they did look at those B’s and say to me, "That’s good, but you can do better."

You might think, hearing that story, that my parents were setting me up for lots of psychotherapy later in life. That’s because you haven’t heard the whole story. There was never a moment in my life when I was not sure that my parents loved me unconditionally. If my parents had said to me, "We’ll love you more if you get better grades," then, of course, I’d have spent the rest of my life trying to earn their love.

But that wasn’t the message. Somehow my parents managed to convey to me the importance of doing my best, not to earn their love, but because I had been given gifts to use to the glory of God. Looking back on their lives of service in the church and in public education, it seems to me they must have had similar notions about themselves and their gifts.

Educators today emphasize the importance of children developing a "positive self-image." Surely that begins, theologically speaking, with the certainty that God "has crowned us with glory and honor," and set us in this good world to do our best for God.

When I was in college I took part in a tutoring program with inner-city youth in Memphis, Tennessee. The children we tutored came from neighborhoods where white college kids like us would not have walked at night. Jason, my charge, had a gapped-tooth smile and read three years below his grade-level. He poured himself into every session, and when he got discouraged, he’d recite a motto he’d learned in church:

"God made Jason, and God don’t make no junk."

I’m sure that, by now, Jason is teaching in some prestigious theological seminary, or – just as likely – the head of his own corporation.

I think of the many teachers in this congregation, Christians who have given their lives to a vocation that offers little in the way of prestige and even less in the way of monetary reward. Ask the educators in this congregation about the theology that underlies their life’s calling. I’ll bet they’ll talk about investing talents, about realizing potentialities, about using gifts bestowed by a gracious God.

The Choristers in our church sing serious music with the adults. I love that. So many church musicians seem to think that the best children and youth can manage is second-rate stuff that challenges neither singer nor listener. They go for the cheap, the loud, the showy, and in the process teach children that second-best is good enough for God. Talents buried in the earth.

This slave’s sin is not that he tried and failed, but that he didn’t try at all. He played it safe, and in the economics of God’s kingdom, that kind of prudence is no virtue, but a vice. Grace employed abounds. Grace buried does nothing but open the door into a hell of unrealized possibilities.

Over the past three decades, members of American mainline denominations have been giving less and less of their money to the ministries of their churches. Giving as a percent of personal income has been dropping steadily, but that is not news. Even more disturbing is the drop in giving to benevolences – to mission causes outside local congregations.

In 1968 Americans in mainline churches gave .66% of their personal income to their churches’ benevolence work. By 1993 that figure had declined .43%. Last year benevolence giving was the lowest in 31 years. At this rate of decline, the percent of church member income going beyond the local congregation will be zero by the year 2049.

Do you know what that means? The death of denominations for one thing, but that may not be so bad. It also means no more missionaries. No more church-supported hospitals in Third World nations. No more mission schools. No more church workers in refugee camps. In short, no more mission at all outside the local congregation.

Does this trend mean that the gospel of Jesus Christ is no longer good news? Does it mean that there are no hungry, sick, or illiterate people outside the local church? No, it means that American Christians are playing it safe. We’re circling the wagons, raising the drawbridge, retreating behind the ramparts. We’re taking the most precious gift we have – the good news of Jesus Christ -- and we’re sitting on it.

Why? If this parable is any clue, it must be that we are afraid. We're afraid to risk ourselves and our money. We’re afraid we’re going to need every cent in these uncertain times to pay the light bill or keep the sanctuary roof from leaking. We're afraid that we’ll need all our resources to keep our own families from splitting up and our own children from falling away from the faith. We’re afraid that if we don’t hang on to what we have, we’ll lose it.

Beloved in Christ, hear this parable: That is the way to hell. That is the road to weeping and gnashing of teeth. It is only in letting go that we receive, in risking that we find security, in giving that we discover grace. Christians don’t glorify God by burying their talents.

What's that? You say you don’t have a million dollars – a talent – to invest?

How do you know if you don’t open up the strongbox?

You might not have a million dollars, but there are a million ways you can show your gratitude for the lavish grace God has given you.

I love the way the Today’s English Version translates this master’s speech to the first two servants in this parable. "Well done, you good and faithful servant. You have been faithful in managing small amounts, so I will put you in charge of large amounts. Come on in and share my happiness."

To be sure, there is judgment in this parable. The cautious servant brings disaster upon himself. The same can happen to us. But there is also joy: "Come on in and share my happiness."

This story contains a warning and a promise. Here is the warning: Safe, cautious, self-protective disciples cut themselves off from the full joy of God’s kingdom. And here is the promise: When we let go and risk, the glory of God’s kingdom breaks through, and the fun begins.

Look at the cross. God did not play it safe. Neither can we.

 

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