The Parable of the Talents

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

November 13, 2011; 22 Pentecost, Proper 28, Year A, Track 1

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Matthew 25:14-30) – Jesus said, "For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master's money. After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, `Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.' His master said to him, `Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.' And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, `Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.' His master said to him, `Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.' Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, `Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.' But his master replied, `You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' "

 _____________________________________________

I want to preach two sermons today, two contrasting interpretations of this parable of the talents. 

The first interpretation you might call Matthew’s sermon.  It offers an object lesson about risking much for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.  Matthew loved allegory.  So many interpreters see Matthew’s version of this parable as an allegorical commentary on three communities of faith.  All three communities have been invited into the rich work of the kingdom that Jesus brings to humanity.  A talent is a large measure.  One talent is equal to the day’s wage of six-thousand laborers.  The man going on a journey entrusts great wealth to the three slaves, each slave an allegory for a community in Matthew’s world.

For Matthew the first community is Israel, God’s chosen people.  Israel has been entrusted with the immeasurably rich gifts of the law and the prophets -- the immense gift and responsibility of five talents.  Now, for Israel, everything has been fulfilled in Jesus, who is the culmination of all of the hopes articulated in the law and the prophets.  The wise and faithful servant will now embrace the Jesus-movement as the new community of Israel.  Matthew knows that it is costly and risky for contemporary Jews to respond in faith, to declare Jesus as Messiah and to join the new community, but he promises that it is a risk that will be amply rewarded.

Matthew’s second community is the Gentile world.  Though less endowed with spiritual wealth than the Jewish people, Gentiles have also been given an abundant welcome into the joy of the master.  Those Gentiles who take the generous gift of the two talents, and who embrace the new wisdom and community of the Jesus-movement, will also be richly rewarded.

The third community that Matthew addresses is the one-talent bunch – those who have been invited to the feast but who have not embraced the riches that Jesus extends to them.  These did not have the wisdom or insight or courage necessary to welcome the new community of abundant, egalitarian, peace-making justice that comes to us in Jesus.  Instead, they buried their gift in the ground.  They stayed with what they knew.  They held on to their traditions.  They played it safe, unwilling to risk living in the new ethic of Jesus.  A comment elsewhere in Matthew’s Gospel sheds light on this.  Jesus declares, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”  Dominic Crossan translates that, “You buried your heart where you hid your treasure.” [i]

So the sermon from Matthew goes something like this.  God has richly blessed us, entrusting us with the riches of the heavenly kingdom.  Therefore live freely, courageously and abundantly, using your gifts, willing to risk for the sake of God, and you will have great reward.  Don’t play it safe.  Don’t bury what you have been given.  Use your talents for the glory of God.

That’s a fine message.  And I hope you’ll think about your own life – your own gifts and talents – and think how you might embrace your potential with fearless energy.  How can you invest yourself to become more fruitful for the sake of God’s kingdom?  Seize the day!  Know that your reward will be great. 

Okay.  Nice sermon.  But I don’t think that’s what Jesus was getting at in the original parable.  This is a story of a harsh master – an avaricious and dishonest elite. 

The Jewish scripture, the Torah, forbade charging interest on money.  We hear an echo of that in Jesus’ word, “Lend, expecting nothing in return. (Luke 6:35)  A wealthy person going on a journey could not travel carrying all of his money.  So it was common for people to leave their money with a trusted friend.  It was called leaving the money “on deposit.”  Christians in their worship had a prayer liturgy that pledged them to deal honestly with any money left with them on deposit.  An honest friend would return the money to the penny when the traveler came back. [ii]

The only way someone could double money given to them “on deposit” would be through corrupt or unscrupulous business dealings.  And there was a lot of that going on in first century Palestine.  Much of it involved oppressing and victimizing peasants, the original hearers of Jesus’ parable. [iii]

So when this wealthy man returns and two of his retainers give to him twice as much money as he left with them, everyone knows what’s been happening.  These retainers have behaved unscrupulously with his money.  They’ve made a lot for themselves and then given him a 100% return on his money on top of that.  The whole lot of them are blatantly and unashamedly greedy and dishonest.  The rich man praises their rapacity.

Then the honest man approaches.  He has done the right thing.  The rabbis taught that if someone receives money on deposit and buries it in the ground and it is lost, that person is not liable for the loss.  Burying money received on deposit was considered the right and prudent action.  The honest man returns the deposit to the Master, the entire amount to the penny. 

Then the honest man speaks and publicly exposes the immoral character of the powerful man.  “I knew you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed.”  The honest man declares, this rich aristocrat and his lackeys are exploiters, financiers living off the productive labor of others.  They take the lion’s share of the harvest that others have sown; they gather in and monetize what others have reaped.  The honest man names the Master as one who is cruel, harsh and merciless. 
Then he shames the Master publicly with his honest return of the money given him on deposit.  “Here, you have what is yours.”  Unspoken is the implication:  “You don’t have what is others’.”

Thanks to this servant’s upright and courageous action, at least one talent of this man’s money was buried where it could do no harm.  The honest man unmasks the “joy of the master” for what it is, the bloody money of exploitation and excess. 

The Master’s reaction is swift and merciless.  “You wicked and lazy slave!  …Throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”  End of story.

So, there you have it.  Two sermons in the space of one.  A 100 percent return on your time, I might add.

It’s easy to draw a lesson from Matthew’s interpretation.  Use your talents with courageous freedom; don’t bury them. 

But what about this second sermon’s interpretation?  That’s harder, isn’t it?

We also have instances of financial exploitation and of unscrupulous business dealings in our culture, don’t we?  Sometimes whistleblowers risk much to expose those activities.  We also see greed and abuses of power by some with great resources.  How might we withdraw our talents from those financial activities?  What word of honesty needs to be spoken to systems of exploitation?  What might the honest slave say to these systems today?

Jesus tells a story of someone who opts out of participating in a destructive system, and does so at great cost to himself.  There is something heroic about this slave who stands up to his Master and thus stops a small part of the cycle of oppression. 

We can ask ourselves, how are we trapped into cooperating with destructive systems of power?  How might we opt out of such entrapments?  How might we bury our participation instead of using our resources wrongly?

---

[i] Harry T. Cook Findings II 11/7/11 http://archive.constantcontact.com/fs008/1101380377741/archive/1108352472816.html

[ii] Paul McCracken, Jerusalem Institute for Biblical Exploration, http://www.jibe-edu.org/clientimages/28237/lectionarynotes2011-2012/11-13-11.pdf

[iii]  see William R. Herzog, II, Parables as Subversive Speech, chapter 9 on this parable.  My sermon based on his study is at http://www.stpaulsfay.org/05-11-12WhenConscienceisMorePowerfulThanFear.pdf

++++++++++++++++++++++

The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate

God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and its life and mission, please contact us at

P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373

More sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org

Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org

To Be A Saint

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

November 6, 2011;All Saints Sunday, Year A

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Matthew 5:1-12) – When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

"Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

"Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

"Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

______________________________________________________

For those of you who read my Morning Reflections blog, some of this will be repetitive, because I’m going to stay with some thoughts I had Tuesday morning on All Saints Day.  I woke up that morning with a children’s hymn in my mind: I sing a song of the saints of God.  Some of you probably know most of the words.

The first verse ends this way:

And one was a doctor, and one was a queen,

and one was a shepherdess on the green:

they were all of them saints of God, and I mean,

God helping, to be one too.

(Hymn 293)

I can remember singing this hymn as a child and thinking enthusiastically with the naiveté of childhood, "Yes!  I could be one too."  Something deep inside me wanted to be good and noble, like the ones we read about in the heroes' biographies.  A similar urge still moves inside of me today.  I want to live a real and authentic life.  I want to be open to whatever God may draw me toward, anything that might help God's work in the world. 

Now, as I live in my sixtieth year, I certainly know a lot of my limits and many of my abiding faults, but I can also claim some of my gifts as well.  Now that I am a grownup, I’ve read some of the more adult biographies than they gave us when we were kids, and I know that many of those heroes I thought to model myself by also had some significant limits and faults.

To be a saint doesn't seem quite as exotic as it used to.  It seems to be more about being who I am.  It seems more about trusting God in each present moment, and detaching myself from those habits and distractions that always seem to draw me away from simply being.

I think a lot of the saints that live among us often fly under the radar.  I remember a woman named Frances, she belonged to my church in Jackson, Mississippi, St. Columb’s.  She was there every Sunday, sitting in her pew, about halfway down from the front, two or three seats in from the center aisle.  She was there just about every Sunday, but she wasn’t part of other things in the church, other fellowship groups and outreach things.  St. Columb’s was a small church, compared to St. Paul’s, and I realized when Frances showed up for a book study some time in my fourth or fifth year there, I had never had a conversation with her beyond the greeting at the back door.  I didn’t know her at all.

We were reading a little book by Louis Evely titled That Man is You.  It is a devotional classic, written in a rather intensely personal style.  For the first couple of sessions, Frances didn’t say much of anything.  But somewhere around our third or fourth meeting, she said something that made my antenna go up.  In a very humble, matter-of-fact way, she identified with something that the author had said about an intimate, abiding, personal sense of God’s presence with us, alive and real, tingling and manifest.  Gently, almost like an aside she said, “Yes.  I’ve always felt that.”  She spoke it so naturally, I knew instinctively that it was true.  Then I began to pay attention to her.  She’s one of those “once born” people.  People who have an intuitive, natural union with God.  You don’t run across them too often.  I started watching her.  Really, I wanted to learn from her.

And what I saw was someone utterly comfortable in her own skin.  So relaxed and at home with life that she didn’t bring any extra attention to herself.  She just was.  Calm.  Pleasant.  Peaceful.  As comfortable to be with as an old pair of house-shoes. 

As I started watching her, I began to see her – this woman who had been almost invisible in front of my eyes for five years.  I learned that she ran all the errands for an elderly neighbor next door, and cooked for the neighbor.  I learned she was raising two of her grandchildren, picking them up after school and caring for them each afternoon, because her daughter’s life had fallen apart.  I learned that Francis’ husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and she nursed him at home.  He was living mostly in his lounge-chair and his bed. 

When I tried to speak words of sympathy to her about these things, a sadness filled her eyes, yet they retained their joyful spark.  Her smile remained, briefly marked by an accepted grief.  “Yes, it is sad,” she said.  “But I am so glad I can do what I can do for them.  Each of them brings me such joy.”  She wasn’t putting on.  She spoke sincerely from her own deep truth.  Quiet awe is the only response one can muster in the presence of a saint.

What was it about her?  She had a deep, almost untroubled acceptance of her reality.  She wasted no energy complaining about the injustice of it all.  She dwelt with a simple intuition that God is with us.  She drew comfort from God’s present reality.  She herself was so humble, that she almost wasn’t there.  Yet she was fully alive, present, comfortable with herself and her situation.  She lived with a kind, simple courage and humble being.

Toward the end of Graham Greene's novel The Power and the Glory the Whisky Priest sits in his prison cell, the gallows that will hang him on the morrow outside his window.  His has been an ambiguous life.  With some courage he had stayed behind to provide the sacrament to the people after the army arrived.  Yet he had fathered an illegitimate child and drowned much of his fear in liquor. 

Approaching his end, "He felt only an immense disappointment because he had to go to God empty-handed, with nothing done at all.  It seemed to him at that moment that it would have been quite easy to have been a saint.  It would only have needed a little self-restraint and a little courage.  He felt like someone who has missed happiness by seconds at an appointed place.  He knew now that at the end there was only one thing that counted -- to be a saint." 

A little self-restraint and a little courage.  Moment by moment.  Trusting.  You know, I think I can do that.  I’ll be you can too.  It doesn’t seem that hard, does it?

It’s going to take a little bit of tenderness though.  Tenderness toward God.  Tenderness toward others.  Especially tenderness toward ourselves. 

I know that when I think kindly of myself, I tend to relax enough to act more kindly toward others.  When I can live in an atmosphere of acceptance, something good seems to grow in me.  The acceptance takes a bit of trust however.  Acceptance of the present moment -- after all, it is the only moment I have – acceptance of the present moment, regardless of its particular shape.  Acceptance of ourselves, for God has accepted us in God's immense and infinite grace.  If God has accepted us, we can relax and accept ourselves.  We can be more gentle with ourselves.  We can become comfortable in our own skins. 

After all, underneath everything, it is all love.  And life is good.  Hard, but good. 

So, we can relax.  Simply be.  A little self-restraint and a little courage is all it takes…  to be a saint.

They lived not only in ages past, 

   there are hundreds of thousands still,

the world is bright with the joyous saints 

   who love to do Jesus' will.

You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,

in church, or in trains, or in shops or at tea,

for the saints of God are just folk like me, 

and I mean to be one too.