|
The Rev. Carol S. Wedell
November 16, 2008
If I told you that I had a wonderful, but high-risk investment that I thought you should put all of your resources into, would you do it? I'm guessing that you might think me a bit crazy, right? Even if the stock market were not bouncing all over the place (mostly down) and the banks were as stable as could be, most of us are at least somewhat risk-adverse, and certainly when it comes to our financial assets. Besides, who would take investment advice from their pastor???
This morning's gospel reading is the middle of three parables in the 25th chapter of Matthew, the chapter just prior to Jesus' arrest and subsequent death. By being placed here, they become Jesus' last words to his disciples. Words to keep them going until he returns.
The details of the story, which seem relatively straightforward, evoke a social world so distant from our own that we can barely imagine it. There was no such thing as a middle class; there were only the very rich and the very poor. As Jesus tells the story, a master comes and gives three of his slaves unbelievable amounts of money -- each according to his ability. While he is gone they have to decide what to do with the money.
First of all, we need to understand that a talent was unit of measure, something like the British pound, which later became a term for currency, so we're not talking about "talents" as abilities. The amounts talked about here are ridiculously high - decades worth of wages, even for the slave that receives only one talent. We're talking more money that you and I can even imagine - kind of like a 700 billion bail-out bill.. That blatant exaggeration is our first clue that this parable may not be about money at all. (And here with it being pledge dedication Sunday, you were sure I was going there - right?)
This is a familiar parable. So familiar in fact, that is makes it very hard for us to really hear with fresh ears. Three years ago when preaching on this text, I was struck by what some newer commentators had said about the economy of Jesus' day and the risk the third slave had made in speaking truth to power. It totally changed my understanding of this parable. The online discussion group of which I am apart that discusses the weekly lectionary texts has had a field day this week - lots of discussion about what the parable meant in Jesus' day and how that applies to us today. It challenged the unjust economic system of Jesus' time and made those of us in the 21st century squirm a bit too.
Well, I'm not there today. It is certainly a valid and challenging approach to the parable. But that is not where I hear God speaking today. Not personally, not as a congregation, not as a country or world. The times themselves feel risky enough. Yet I can't quite return to the standard reading of this text either.
You know how it goes; we all grew up hearing it: "We're all special in our own way. God has given resources (talents) to each of us. God is going to want to know what we did with the resources at our disposal. Every person has a responsibility to use their resources wisely."
Ok, true enough. Not a bad message, but not, I believe where this parable takes us - even granting a variety of readings. The first thing to remember is that this is, in fact, a parable, not an allegory. We can't neatly figure out who each figure stands for. Yet century after century, we have treated this as an allegory, sure that the master is God. Well, maybe or maybe not.
When we remember that it is a parable, we also remember, that parables by definition are multi-layered in meaning. You can't simply declare, "this is what this means, once and for all." That is true for all of scripture as the Spirit brings it to life for us. But it is even truer of parables that are intended to evoke many possible meanings. What spoke to Jesus' disciples may be different than that which spoke to the early church. What startled me awake three years ago simply doesn't fit for me today. Not, mind you, because it is a "wrong" interpretation. But because of who I am today, and what I am bringing to the text brings a different message to bear. Understanding parables is not about "getting the right answer." It's more about meandering through the story and trying on different understandings for size.
The point is that the parables of Jesus are always new, always fresh. They're not like reading a history book, which inform us about the past. Instead the words of a parable come alive each time we read them. They're not at all like the letters of the early church, which exhort us about how we are to live and believe. And we don't read a parable as though we were examining a 2000 year old religious artifact. When we enter the world of a parable, something wild and untamed comes into our imaginations. By the time we get the weeping and gnashing of teeth, it may even sound threatening.
For the past month or so, two words have seemed to come up nearly every day for me - in prayer, in scripture, in conversations, even on television. Two words which give me a window into this rich parable: fear and courage.
In a more than shaky economy, with a new administration being put together, and the world feeling ever more fragile, as country after country obtains nuclear potential, fear is something you and I have come to live with. How much does fear hold us back? Sometimes our fears are small and not related to any real danger: what grade will I get on this paper? Will I make it to church on time? (Oh - I forgot - that makes very few of you worry!) Does so and so like me? Then there are the bigger fears: Will I keep my job - or be able to find a new one? Will my marriage last? Will the retirement fund I was counting on still be there? Will my children grow up healthy and happy? Can we make this world a better place - a place that looks bit more like what God had in mind? How much are we driven by fear?
Think for a moment about your fears - the worries that keep you up at night, the things that put your stomach in a knot, the anxiety that keeps you from taking the action you know you should take. That is the kind of fear I think this parable addresses. For in unmistakable terms, it calls for risk-taking behavior. The problem with parables is that we are so prone to take them literally... and as I said, Jesus clearly wasn't advising his disciples how to invest their money. But I do think this might contain a message for them-and us-about courage. Jesus is talking to his closest friends, his intimates, preparing them for the time when he would no longer be with him. Perhaps they could not imagine that day, but Jesus surely sees it coming. And he offers his disciples a recession-proof investment.
One of my online colleagues, Christina Berry, puts it like this, and with her permission I am sharing her conclusion with you this morning:
It is a risky business, this telling of stories. If the hearers take the story literally, when that is not at all what really happened. God can end up being characterized as a greedy old man, like Mr. Potter in the Jimmy Stewart movie, "It's a Wonderful Life" capitalizing on the grief and needs and misery of the common folk, rewarding the rich and punishing the poor.
A story like that can play into our deepest fear, and heighten our anxiety.
It's fearful enough to make us bury a small fortune, to sock away fifteen years of income, in case something terrible is going to happen.
It's scary enough to make us focus on money and productivity above all things, working to bind our anxiety.
Imagine, then, that Warren Buffet gave me a gift of millions of dollars, no, a billion dollars.
Imagine that Warren told me to distribute it to you, to each according to his or her ability.
What would you do with that money?
Give it away? Spend it? Save it?
Maybe you follow Warren Buffett's advice:
"Be greedy when others are fearful
and fearful when others are greedy."
Maybe, having been given an indescribable gift, an everlasting covenant, say, or a vial of oil that doesn't run out, a spring of living water, or the bread of life, a pearl of great price, something more precious than gold, you'd be greedy to multiply it in the sharing of it.
You'd have an insatiable appetite for evangelism, for mission, for telling the good news, feeding the hungry clothing the naked visiting the sick.
Maybe you'd risk everything you have,
everything you are,
for the sake of the gospel.
Or maybe you'd take the gift, dumbfounded, and confused, and you'd risk your reputation, risk being thought stupid and worthless, risk admitting that you just don't know what to do with such an amazing gift, risk letting the Holy Spirit move into your place of not-knowing, and lead you into uncharted territory.
Maybe you would simply do the best you could, the middling person with middling gifts and middling returns, trusting that the gift was meant for you, and that the one who gave it has plans for you, "plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope."
Maybe, at various times and places in your life, you'd do all three.
Because the gospel is not safe, nor predictable.
It's risky business.
Risky business to stake your life on something like that, risky business to receive such an enormous gift.
In C.S. Lewis' beloved book, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, The children learn about the imminent coming of Aslan, the one who will save all of Narnia.
"Is -- is he a man?" asked Lucy.
"Aslan a man!" said Mr. Beaver sternly.
"Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea.
Don't you know who is the King of Beasts?
Aslan is a lion -- THE Lion, the great Lion."
"Ooh!" said Susan. "I'd thought he was a man.
Is he -- quite safe?
I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."
"That you will, dearie, and no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver, "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly."
"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy.
"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver.
"Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you?
Who said anything about safe?
'Course he isn't safe.
But he's good.
He's the King, I tell you."
The good news of the gospel is not safe, but it is good.
It is not predictable, but risky.
The One who tells us confusing stories is not, and never will be, predictable.
If we are paying attention,
whether we are dutifully, assiduously working away to multiply our gifts, giving our lives in service for the glory of God, or just managing as best we can, maybe asking that young woman next door to come to church with us, or paralyzed with fear, at an absolute standstill in our faith walk, God is at work in the world.
For most of us, personal faith does not seem like a high-risk venture. Faith seems more about personal security - now and in the life to come. Faith, we think, is believing the right things and then living a good life - not exactly a risky way to live. But Jesus is calling you and me to be his disciples, to live our lives as fully as possible by investing them, by risking it all for the sake of the gospel.
Could the story be about courage, then? The third servant's fear prevented him from taking the risks of a life fully lived, a faithful life that follows Jesus no matter what may lie ahead (remembering that what lay ahead for Jesus was suffering and death, but resurrection, too). It has been written, "All that God gives us is given to be risked in new ventures in God's service. Every new step in living for God is a risk." (Bauckham, source uncertain).
What if these talents were the gospel itself? That would certainly change things. We couldn't keep it safely tucked away. Anticipating Jesus' return meant rejecting the lure of security, with its logic of fear and intimidation, and taking the risk of discipleship with its dangers and perils. This stewardship is beyond money; it is a stewardship of the gospel itself.
In the past several weeks various members of our church have talked about how they came to Church of the Western Reserve and what it has meant in their lives. They have, I believed, spoken about your courage in being stewards of the gospel, of sharing the good news with al who walk through our doors. If you have listened, you have heard personal testimonies to the ways at which God is at work among us.
Brothers and sisters, we can't bury our faith, our relationship with God and tuck it away only to be taken out on Sundays or emergency situations. We are invited to let go of fear, and grab hold of courage. Is our faith life more about safety and reassurance and security, or is it about risk-taking and openness and courage, and the unimaginable abundance to which these virtues lead? Are we willing to let the gospel loose in the world? Are we willing to be a blessing to the world? Are we willing to risk it all? By God's grace, may it be so for you and for me.
|
