23rd Sunday after Pentecost
Stewardship Sunday 2014
The Gospel we just heard is known as the Parable of the Talents. That word "talent" has a double meaning. Its original meaning refers to a huge sum of money. In the ancient world, a talent was worth what an ordinary laborer earned over the course of fifteen years. Thus, giving each of his servants one or more talents, the master in this story is entrusting them with a fortune.
The second meaning of the word "talent" results from one interpretation of this story. As the master entrusts his servants with talents, so God entrusts each of us with abilities. Talent has thus come to mean ability or skill. We say that someone has a talent for music or cooking or business.
But the Parable of the Talents isn’t really about money or ability. It’s about something even more important. The Parable of the Talents is about trust.
The story opens with an act of trust. The master is about to leave town on a journey. He entrusts his wealth to three servants. Each is given a different sum of money. Yet each is given a large amount -- one talent or two or five. It’s clear that the master trusts each of his servants. He even hands over the money without any instructions.
After a long time, the master returns and calls in his three servants. Two of them have doubled their money. The third has made nothing at all; he returns to his master exactly what he received. It turns out that this servant had simply buried the money in the ground, a common security measure in ancient times. He reveals the reason for his action: he was afraid of his master.
His trust in his master was zero, so he reduced his financial risk to zero. Yet he also reduced the possibility of profit to zero as well.
The story as we have it leaves us with an unanswered question. How would the master have responded to the first two servants if they had not brought in a profit? What if they had put the money at risk and come back empty-handed?
I think the master would have accepted them. After all, in the parable what he commends is not their profits, but their faithfulness. He does not commend the servant who produced five talents more than the one who produced two. Each receives the same commendation: "Well done, good and faithful servant." Each receives the same invitation: "You have been faithful over a few things, I will set you over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord."
And in responding to the third servant, the master makes it clear that he would have accepted anything -- even rock-bottom savings account interest -- that was motivated by faith rather than fear.
The parable is not about money or ability so much as it is about trust. The master trusts his servants and acts on this trust. The servants -- or rather two of them -- return the favor by acting out of trust rather than fear, and they come back to their master with one fortune stacked on top of another.
The third servant paints an ugly picture of a grasping master who demands success. What this servant gets for his trouble is exactly the rejection he fears. He’s a small-minded man who insists that his master is just as small-minded.
The other two servants, however, recognize generosity when they see it. The piles of money thrust their way reveal someone who is generous, who takes a risk, who accepts them, even honors them. Finding themselves at the receiving end of such outrageous trust, they feel empowered, and are willing to take risks of their own. The love their master has shown them overcomes their fear of failure. They realize that any master who treats his servants in this open-handed way is interested in them doing something significant with what he has entrusted to them.
This brief story about a master and his three servants turns upside down the standards of the world. It announces that the worst thing that can happen to us is not failure. The worst thing that can happen is that we make God out to be a horrible old grouch who rejects us when we fail.
The story tells us that the worst thing is not losing when we take risks, but never risking anything in the first place. In the eyes of God, the fear that keeps a treasure in the ground is an act of disobedience. The freedom that puts that treasure at risk -- and may even result in its loss -- that is an act of faith.
We can learn from our failures, and often it is failure that provides the most indelible lessons. But fear only limits our possibilities -- until we leave it behind. What if the true and living God has no interest in keeping score? What if God’s concern is simply that we all get up and take a turn at bat?
The Good News of Jesus gives new meaning to success and security. Success is found, not in accumulating more than we can ever use, but in our willingness to risk in response to God’s invitation. Security is found, not in keeping pace with our rising paranoia, but in the utterly reliable God who trusts us before we trust ourselves, who risks, and asks that we risk also.
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, in his book, The Divine Milieu, writes:
"God obviously has no need of the products of your busy activity since he could give himself everything without you. The only thing that concerns him, the only thing that he desires intensely, is your faithful use of your freedom and the preference you accord him over the things around you. The things that are given to you on earth are given to you purely as an exercise, a bank sheet on which you make your own mind and heart. The whole question is whether you have learned how to love."
The Parable of the Talents is not really about money or abilities. It’s a story about trust. Life's the same way. What's important is not money or abilities in themselves, but our decision to use them in ways that show our willingness to trust. The central question about life is not "What did we accomplish?" but whether we learned to love.