Ten Talents and What God Says...

I relied heavily on the scholarship and insight of Sarah Dylan Breuer and Mark Sandlin this week. Though I do take the latter to task a bit in this sermon, I really appreciate his words and his insight.

And apropos of nothing at all, here's some really cool music:

MATTHEW 25:14-30

“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.’”

This is the Word of the Lord.

I am absolutely convinced that a parable is never, ever one thing. Not when it comes from the mouth of Jesus, anyway.

The classic interpretation of this parable focuses on the third servant's – slave's – unwillingness to use what he has been given in a productive way. The idea that the man who has gone on a long journey, whose return was a long time in coming, and who reviewed the performance of those he had left behind, is a representation of Jesus at the end of time is unavoidable.

And, I mean, it works. I've preached it that way, right here, three years ago.

I suggested, back then, that the real error in what the third slave did went deeper than just burying money... because of course the parable isn't really about money, and it isn't really about special skills or abilities that (thanks to this parable) have come to be called “talents,” only as soon as I say that, I realize that I and everyone else I can recall preaching on this parable from this interpretation ends up talking about money and talents in some manner, but I digress.

Anyway, I noted that in the next pericope, when Jesus separates the sheep from the goats, the criteria he uses to divide the groups is whether they fed him when he was hungry. When he was thirsty, did they give him anything to drink? Was he shown hospitality as a stranger, or clothed when he was naked? When he was sick, when he was imprisoned, did they visit him? In the economy of the Kingdom of God, these are the investments that yield the return the Master is truly interested in.

In the common interpretation of the Parable of the Talents, if that third slave had been around today, he would have been the person who was all about making sure his needs were met, he was comfortable, had a reliable retirement strategy and a nice car, decent clothes and plenty of food. He would have fretted about giving money to a homeless person, because they may spend it on booze. He would have relied on government agencies or nonprofit organizations to provide assistance with rent and utilities, all the time complaining about those agencies and organizations, and never actually daring to face the needy on his own. They might be lying, after all. They may cheat him. Worse, once you start caring, once you start giving, once you answer that phone, well, where does it stop? What if there isn’t enough left for the bills?

That third slave would have buried himself in his work, and in his activities, and played it safe, and probably would have been pretty respectable in everyone else’s eyes.

But playing it safe never changed anything.

Ultimately, the Parable of the Talents is about being present. About doing the things that need to be done without fear, with the same extravagant, joyful abandon with which God has lavished grace and love upon us. The point of the parable was not whether the slaves had been given six hundred thousand dollars, or one point two million dollars, or three million dollars, or twelve dollars and a rusty bucket. What interested the traveler upon his return was, what had they done with it?

And what will we do with what we have been given? Bury it, or broadcast it? Playing it safe makes sense, especially in this day and age. It is rational to be afraid. To be uncertain. We might mess up. We might do the wrong thing. We might be taken advantage of.

All of that is true, and I would be lying to you if I were to say it is not possible. But God calls upon us to act, and to act now, to take chances and trust that God will take care of us.

Like I said, interpreting the parable that way works.

But.

Just like last week's bridegroom, the man, the master, this week... well, I'm sorry, but he isn't acting a whole lot like Christ. He's an absentee landlord who doesn't do any work himself, but lives off of the labor of his slaves. The profit-making that the master demands would be seen in Jesus' culture as coming, out of necessity, at the expense of other more honest people; it would be seen as greedy and grasping rather than smart or virtuous. The absentee landowner tells the slave whom he treats most harshly that the punishment is specifically for refusing to break God's commandment against usury, a practice consistently condemned in both the Hebrew bible and the New Testament.

Is the behavior of the master in the parable something that God would commend, let alone imitate? Is this kind of behavior what Jesus expects of God's people?

Do I have to say it? No.

Mark Sandlin suggests that the hero of this parable is not the master, but the third slave – the one who dared to stand up to the master, to point out his greed and cruelty and injustice. “I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed...” Both Sandlin and Sarah Dylan Breuer suggest – and it makes sense – that the next -to-last phrase Jesus utters in this parable: “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...” is perhaps better translated this way: “The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer.”

What if – what if – the “master” in this parable isn't God... what if it's us?

The master is us, those with power – including the middle class in America.

Every time we live into our positions of power and then judge those who are struggling on what we see as the margins of society, the master is us. Every time we assume a right to our privileges and label those without those same privileges as “lazy,” the master is us. Even when our places of prerogative are so endemic that we live into the abuse they cause by carelessly supporting the slave labor required to provide the goods we want at rock bottom prices, the master is us.

Ouch.

So which of these dueling interpretations of the Parable of the Talents is the “correct” one?

I want to suggest this morning that we don't have to choose. After all, God is still alive and active, and still speaks to us all where we are – in the midst of our lives and situations, in our own unique language. And note how I said this: God speaks to us.

One of the dangers in preaching, and in Biblical interpretation in general, is the tendency to use Scripture as a teaching tool to bring others into our own points of view. In fact, one of the sources I used this week for this sermon is an article by a writer that ultimately uses this parable as an indictment against a political party that he is not a member of.

I mean, it's a well-written piece, sure. I think it makes good points, but, then again, I am not a member of that political party, either. And just writing or reading something that makes me feel good... at the expense of others... changes nothing. The rich still get richer, the poor still get poorer. It's dangerous.

It is dangerous because nothing changes. As Max Lucado says, God loves us just as we are, but too much to let us stay that way. If I read Scripture to justify myself, but not to grow or change or find direction and answers and bring myself into closer communion with my loving Creator, what good is it to read Scripture at all?

So maybe we do have to choose, but the challenge is to choose to read the parable in a way that challenges us.

If, reading it the traditional way, we are challenged to take what we have and use it in ways which bring hope and healing, which encourage others to put their faith in the risen Christ, if it pushes us to look at what we own in a new and uncomfortable way – not as a security blanket but as a tool kit – then perhaps this is the correct interpretation.

If, by turning the parable on its head and seeing the third slave as the good guy and the master as the one ultimately in the wrong, we are challenged to live beyond our places of privilege, to speak truth to power and to honor those who live in the margins, then perhaps this is the correct interpretation.

Because, ultimately, both interpretations must ultimately be filtered through what Jesus says next, in the end times prophecy about the sheep and the goats, which is, by the way, our Gospel reading for next Sunday. God speaks to us in Scripture, sometimes to comfort the afflicted, and sometimes to afflict the comfortable, but always to lead us to act in a manner which glorifies God and brings hope and healing and comfort and the Good News of the risen Christ to the world.

When the Son of Man comes, he won't say, “Just as you did not do it unto one of the more productive of least of these, you did not do it unto me.” The judgment will not be predicated on the basis of how much money we made, or for that matter on how religious we were or whether we said a "sinner's prayer," but rather on whether we saw that the least of our sisters and brothers in the human family, whether in or out of prison, had food, clothing, and health care. We serve Jesus himself to the extent that we do these things, and we neglect Jesus himself to the extent that we don't. Period.

In the Parable of the Talents, we are the master, we are the faithful servants, and we are third slave as well. This is our story. It is a call to arms, an encouragement, a challenge.

The question is, are we willing to let go of the fear? Are we willing to live into the story of the third slave who confronted the powers that be? Are we willing to risk what little we have in order to heal a hurting world, in order to bring the Good News of new life in Jesus Christ to those in the margins, to those who need to hear it most?

Have I Mentioned that Love Wins?

I'm indebted to the writing of Mark Sandlin of Vandalia Presbyterian Church for helping me articulate the beginning of this sermon. Statistical information is taken from a video presentation by David Kinnaman of the Barna Group.

Oh, and the thing about quoting Hugh Hollowell rather than Rob Bell when I say "Love Wins?" Hugh said it first.

Here's the audio from the sermon.



Check this out on Chirbit

Acts 10:44-48

While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles, for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God. Then Peter said, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” So he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Then they invited him to stay for several days.

1 John 5:1-6

Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God, and everyone who loves the parent loves the child. By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments. For the love of God is this, that we obey his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome, for whatever is born of God conquers the world. And this is the victory that conquers the world, our faith. Who is it that conquers the world but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?

This is the one who came by water and blood, Jesus Christ, not with the water only but with the water and the blood. And the Spirit is the one that testifies, for the Spirit is the truth.

John 15:9-17

As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

This is the Word of the Lord.

There are times I look around me at the Church Universal and wonder: At what point did the wheels come off the bus?

We Christians excel at many things: Worship, helping others, weddings, funerals, praying… but what many Christians, both individually and as groups, seem to be best at is the art of missing the point completely.

We have used the Bible to support, promote and act upon some pretty un-Christian things over the millennia: slavery, holocaust, segregation, subjugation of women, apartheid, the Spanish Inquisition, domestic violence, all sorts of exploitation, and the list could go on and on.

In every case, Christians assert their confident conviction that they are adhering to the will of God, quoting (or to be precise, misquoting and prooftexting) Scriptures in order to bolster their arguments. And in every case, over time, as we become more skilled at translating the original languages and more adept at contextualizing passages of Scripture, cooler heads prevail and we discover that the Bible in general and Saint Paul specifically weren’t condoning slavery, did not in fact support the subjugation of women, but in fact promoted integration within the church and, by extension, society, and the list could go on and on.

We discover, every time, and much to our surprise, that (to quote my friend and Mennonite pastor Hugh Hollowell) “Love wins.”

And then we forget, because some other issue comes up, some other political group co-opts the name of God to support their agenda, and the vicious cycle starts all over again.

It’s really no surprise, when you think of it, that a study by the Barna Group, an Evangelical research firm, showed that a staggering majority of people outside the Church use some very harsh words to describe Christians: “judgmental,” “hypocritical,” “insensitive to others,” “too involved in politics,” they say that “present-day Christianity is no longer like Jesus intended,” and the list could go on and on.

Now, understand that the Barna Group, as an Evangelical firm, is speaking specifically about Evangelical Christians. As Presbyterians, we fall under the heading of “Mainline Protestants,” or what the Barna Group labels “other Christians.”

So we can say with some justification that we’re not like the people described in that Barna survey. Our denomination and our church welcomes all kinds of people, inviting participation at all levels regardless of who they are or what they look like!

But asking someone who does not embrace Christianity to understand the nuances of doctrinal and theological differences between Catholic and Protestant and Mainline and Evangelical and Fundamentalist is like expecting someone who is not a Muslim to understand the difference between Shia and Suni, or someone that does not golf to know when to use a five iron and when to use a nine iron.

Further, our protests are drowned out by the loudest Christian voices – voices which, in the name of God, push legislators to pass laws to “make people act right,” voices that (in the name of Jesus) fight anti-bullying programs in schools, voices that speak hate and exclusion and judgment and condemnation from the television screen, the radio speaker, the web browser and the pulpit, and the list could go on and on.

Well, then, how do we, as compassionate, caring, nonjudgmental, mainline Protestant Christians, go about shifting this paradigm, changing the perception of people on the outside, helping them understand that not all of us are like the loudest voices?

Do we buy up billboards? Maybe set up a FaceBook page? Radio and television ads? Hire a PR firm to do an image makeover?

Most of those things – perhaps even the PR firm idea – have already been done. Besides, and I’ve said this before: if by talking more often, talking to more people, and talking louder, we could bring people into relationship with Jesus Christ, everyone would by now already be in relationship with Jesus Christ.

So how do we do it? How do we overcome the negative perceptions of Christianity (and, by extension, Christ) to help bring people into the Kingdom of God? How do we win the battle for the hearts and minds and souls of the human race?

Love wins.

In our Gospel reading today (as well as, I dare say, the vast majority of the Gospel of John), when Jesus speaks of “love” he uses a very specific word – in Greek, it’s the word “agape.” The concept behind agape is a love that is completely outwardly focused, that provides hospitality, caring, compassion, support, assistance, all without any thought to what it gets in return.

And on the very night of his betrayal, mere hours from his arrest, trial and crucifixion, Jesus makes it clear that agape is the kind of love that is not afraid to go to extremes: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

Love wins.

When Jesus calls the disciples (and, by extension, all who follow Him) his friends, it isn’t simply a term of endearment. Friendship in first-century Judea was a serious matter. To be considered a friend was to be in a position of honor. Being a friend meant being treated as kin with all the attendant privileges and obligations. To be a friend meant to look out for the welfare of the other, to put the other's needs on an equal footing with one's own.

Friendship implied reciprocity as well -- to consider someone a friend meant counting on that person to return that level of concern and care. When Jesus calls the disciples “friends,” he isn’t adding them on FaceBook, or saying “hi, how are the kids” as he passes in the hallway. He has shared with them what the Father has revealed to him, and he has given them the task of going out and sharing this revelation with the world. He is speaking to them on the last night before he is to lay down his life for them, and he is letting them know that he expects no less from them in return.

What’s more, by elevating them from the role of “servant” to the role of “friend,” Jesus is eliminating the most divisive element in the community of the disciples at that point, and (can I be honest?) at any point in the Church’s history.

From time to time in the Gospels we read about the disciples arguing over who was to be first in the Kingdom of Heaven – who would get the thrones closest to Jesus, for example. That was a very familiar concept in their time, and it’s just as common today. Go to a big banquet, and all the important people are sitting at the dais. In a boardroom, they’re seated nearest the CEO. As far as the religious community is concerned, the biggest churches with the flashiest programs and the slickest television programs generally get the most attention.

But we are chosen by Christ to be so much more than that. I would contend that churches and individuals who are driven to be the biggest and best and wealthiest and most prominent are stuck in “servant” mode.

And lest you think I am saying that being a servant is a bad thing (because serving is so much a part of living in agape), let me explain my context.

The way Jesus is using the word “servant” here is most like how we would use the word “employee.” As an employee in a company, you engage in healthy competition at best: striving to be the best compared to everyone around you. At worst, you survive by not being the worst in the company as compared to “this guy” or “that guy.” Neither healthy competition, nor bare survival, have any place in the Kingdom of Heaven.

We aren’t chosen to be a crowd of backbiters and infighters, jostling to get the seat nearest the Throne of God. We aren’t called into relationship so we can count ourselves relatively righteous as compared to that Samaritan over there. We’re called to be washing feet. We’re chosen to be welcoming the Samaritan, and the eunuch, and the Gentile into the joyous fellowship of the Kingdom on equal footing with the rest of us!

We are chosen by Christ to forever proclaim that love wins!

The question hanging in the air is, of course, “How?” How do we love like this? How do we show the truth of Christian love to a world that’s been jaded, that’s been shocked by hypocrisy, that’s been hurt by religious insensitivity, that’s been enraged by political posturing?

The answer is neither quick nor easy.

Love wins, yes, but love does not win by making statements or by winning arguments or by shouting down the opposition. Love wins by doing the things that Jesus did.

Hear the Word of God, from the Epistle to the Philippians: “In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death — even death on a cross!”

When Jesus speaks in our Gospel reading of laying down one’s life for one’s friends, the most immediate and accurate association we make with that statement is Jesus’ death on the cross. But there is more than one way to lay down one’s life.

Turn just two chapters back from our Gospel reading to the thirteenth chapter of John, and you’ll see the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, present at and active in the creation of the universe and all that is in it, the Emmanuel, God-With-Us, stripping down to put on a servant’s loincloth and washing the disciples’ dirty feet… and doing it as an example for us. He laid aside propriety and office and reputation, taking on the lowest and least honorable of jobs, because, as we just heard from the Epsitle to the Philippians, that’s what he had been doing all along.

And examples abound within our own lifetimes of men and women who have laid down their lives. Mother Teresa laid down her life for the poor of Calcutta, India. Archbishop Oscar Romero laid down his life for the poor of El Salvador.

We lay down our life when we risk others’ good opinion of us by standing up for the oppressed. We lay down our life when we endure ridicule and hatred for speaking truth to power. We lay down our life when feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger and visiting the sick and imprisoned becomes more important than paying the cable bill. We lay down our life when listening to a hurting acquaintance is more important than getting to bed on time.

In the Epistle of First John, we read, “We love because he first loved us.” Through the love of God, instructed through the communication of prayer, empowered by the indwelling Holy Spirit, we who did not choose, but were chosen by Christ, are called not to do everything, but to do the next thing. Mother Teresa once said, “If you can’t feed a hundred hungry people, feed just one.” And that is the key. We can all do one thing at a time. Look, we are not in this world, or in this fellowship with Christ, as independent contractors. We are a body, spread far and wide across the globe.

And if each of us do what we can, when we can, to the fullest extent that we can…

…then love wins.