Pastor Mark

Talents, Treasures, and Truth to Power

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 replied, ‘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.’”


Last week, I talked about how – in that parable about the ten bridesmaids who get locked out of the wedding banquet – it is okay and even faithful to see the bouncer at the door – the one who locks them out of the banquet – as someone other than Jesus. That’s a new, different, surprising take on a familiar teaching for some. This morning, then, is a variation on a theme because today’s parable may not be what we’re used to seeing on its surface, either.

First of all, smarter people than me point out that this isn’t what they call a “kingdom parable,” which just means it’s one of those parables Jesus tells that doesn’t begin with the phrase, “The Kingdom of Heaven is like…” And that’s good news because it is one of those parables that ends with “outer darkness,” “weeping,” and “gnashing of teeth.” So, just like it didn’t fit or feel right last week that Jesus would be the one behind the door, keeping others from entering the feast of God’s kingdom, it NEVER feels quite right to see the God we know in Jesus as the one who throws people into the gnashing teeth of the outer darkness.

So this may invite us to wonder, contrary to the expectations and assumptions of many people – and maybe contrary to the way we’re used to reading this parable – if the slaveholding Master in today’s parable doesn’t have to be a stand-in for the God we know in Jesus, either.

AND, we’re left to wonder then, if Jesus’ parable isn’t painting a picture of God’s kingdom then he must be painting a picture of something else – like the world as he understood it to be and as it was for those who were listening to him. And, by extension, unfortunately, the world as it still is for you and me. Which is to say, as we look to find ourselves in the middle of this one, it means Jesus seems to be railing against the ways of the world, and of our misuse of, reliance on, and love for … money.

See, if the Master in today’s story isn’t meant to be a stand-in for God or Jesus, it means he’s just some guy. And he’s a mean, selfish, abusive, greedy one at that. And it changes everything, once we’re allowed to consider him that way. It means that the slaves who please him aren’t necessarily to be commended, they’re to be questioned, if not pitied, even. Yes, they take his money and make more of it, but it was likely by unfair, unfaithful means – and everyone listening in Jesus’ day would have known or assumed that. And those first two slaves may have acted out of fear as much as anything else, knowing what we know happens to the third slave who let the Master down.

See, the truth about society and the cultural norm in Jesus’ day – especially for the faithful, Jewish peasant – was that people weren’t upwardly mobile capitalists, like you and I are trained to be.

Whereas we are inclined to look at these first two slaves who doubled their master’s money with admiration and a pat on the back, Jesus and his listeners would have looked at them with suspicion and judgment – maybe for defrauding someone or lending money with interest, like some sort of tax collector. (We know how people felt about their local tax collector, right?) The Old Testament scripture of Jesus’ faith, after all, is full of warnings and prohibitions against storing up more than you can use, lending money for interest, and the like, so there would have been questions. Maybe, those listening to Jesus would have simply questioned the motivation of any slave to line the pockets of their enslaver just to make their way into his good pleasure.

Because if this isn’t a “kingdom parable,” these slaves who “enter into the joy of their master” weren’t entering into the joy of the God, made known in Jesus. They were entering into the joy of someone more like Don Corleone, or Tony Soprano, or Omar Navarro. The Master in Jesus’ story might have been seen as a money-grubbing swindler who sends others to do his dirty work; this enslaver who reaps where he doesn’t sow and who gathers where he doesn’t scatter seed. And, remember, for their work in the end, these first two slaves were still slaves, after all, being put in charge of more dealings and dirty work that would have made their fellow slaves and the average, law-abiding Jewish peasant cringe.

And all of this means that the poor sap who buried the money… the one who didn’t invest wisely… who didn’t make more of what he’d been given… who didn’t do his Master’s bidding… who ends up cast into the outer darkness with all of that weeping and gnashing of teeth… is actually the hero of Jesus’ story.

This slave bucks the system, as it were. He’s a revolutionary rebel. We can imagine him standing up to the Master, with some measure of fear and trembling, and refusing to play the mob-boss’ game. He buries his money in the ground rather than try to make more of it by cheating others, by charging interest, or by otherwise growing that kind of wealth just for the sake of growing wealth, or adding to his Master’s capacity to continue enslaving and oppressing his subjects. And he returns to the Master the same, singular, measly, dust-and-dirt-covered talent he was given, perhaps balanced or spinning on the tip of his middle finger, if you know what I mean.

So, what does this have to do with you and me and Cross of Grace and with our lives as followers of Jesus in the world as we know it?

If we understand the parable this way, we see Jesus – not as painting a picture of God’s kingdom where dirty deeds, done dirt cheap are praised and rewarded in heaven. But we see this parable as an indictment of the way too much of the world was and is for so many. In that last slave – the one who gets thrown into the outer darkness? – Jesus may even be painting a picture of just what’s about to happen to him soon enough, when he refuses to play the game of the religious and political masters; when he, himself, is handed over to the outer darkness of the cross and crucified.

And here, then, is our hope and invitation. We are called, as always, to live more like Jesus. When we talk and pray and invite one another to use our money for the good of God’s church in the world, for the sake of the kingdom among us, we are doing nothing more and nothing less than challenging the ways of the world as we know it. We are standing up for generosity in the face of greed. We are choosing to be faithful instead of fearful with our resources.

Wednesday night, many of us heard from Charla Yearwood at the first event, put together by our newly-minted “Racial Justice Team.” As part of that, Charla talked about the inescapable, “normal” of whiteness in our world. She talked about how those in power generations ago began to set the standard for the way the rest of the world operates, still. This is true when it comes to everything from fashion, to academia, to politics, to church, even, as we understand and experience it. And it’s also true where the economics of capitalism are concerned.

A few of us were talking after Charla’s presentation, about how inescapable the ways of capitalism are in our lives and work in the world – especially in this country. How, in order to succeed, by the world’s standards, we have to abide by the rules and follow the ways and live up to the expectations of the capitalist culture in which we live. That’s impossible to deny and I’m such a product of it, I’m not sure it’s always bad. And I can see that it’s so deep and wide and woven into the fabric of our lives and culture and economy that it’s inescapable, even if we wanted to get away from it.

…except for here, in our life together as Christians in the Church and in this place … as believers … as followers of The Way and the ways of Jesus …

And I think that’s something like what we learn from the third enslaved person in Jesus’ parable. That we don’t have to follow all of the rules all of the time. That we don’t have to play the game at every turn. That we can buck the system – refuse to do “The Master’s” bidding – in the name of grace and mercy and equity; generosity, sacrifice, justice and love.

When we give our money away for the work of God’s Church in the world, it is counter-cultural. When we give to others with no strings attached – not expecting a return on our investment or an increase in principle – we rebel against the greed that surrounds us. When we do the math and decide to give a significant portion of our income to the work of God in the world – through church and charity; for the sake of philanthropy and fun, even – we bring the Kingdom to life, like Jesus did.

This is hard, holy work, for sure. But it’s why faithful stewardship, being mindful about our money, and using it as a tool for spiritual growth, are one of the greatest gifts of the church in the world and one of our greatest blessings as disciples. Our offerings are nothing more and nothing less than a spiritual practice that speaks truth to power – if/when we use it that way.

I hope we see the use of our money – especially the ways we are called to give it away – as a way of being freed from the Master that money and greed want to be in our lives. And I believe that when we give – with gratitude for what is already ours – we will be filled with the joy of a different Master – that we’ll be filled with the joy of the Master of grace and mercy and peace and new life – that really is Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Amen

Bouncers and Bridesmaids

Matthew 25:1-13

[Jesus said,] “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five of them were wise. The foolish took no oil with their lamps, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom. Come out to meet him.’

“So the bridesmaids got up and began to trim their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ The wise replied, ‘No. There will not be enough for you and for us. You had better go to the dealers and buy some more for yourselves.’ And while they were out, the bridegroom came and those who were ready went with him into the banquet and the door was shut. Later, the others returned and, knocking on the door, cried, ‘Lord! Lord! Open to us!’ But the bridegroom replied, ‘Very truly I tell you, I do not know you.’

“Keep awake, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”


The fun and faithful thing to do with any good parable is to imagine where we fit into the narrative of it all. In the one about the Prodigal Son, we’re supposed to wonder if we are the son who ran off with all of the father’s money, or the older sibling who stayed at home, followed the rules, and pouted about the father’s generosity. In another parable we’re supposed to wonder if we are the one sheep who got lost and separated from the fold, or if we’re part of the 99 who huddled safely with the rest of the flock. Are we the hardest working laborer in the vineyard or are we the ones who show up long after lunch and still get paid a full day’s wage? Are we the priest, the Levite, or the Good Samaritan in that story about the guy who gets beaten, abused and abandoned by robbers on the road to Jericho? You get the idea.

And this morning is no different, though it does seem a bit harder to distinguish where we should look to find ourselves here – or who’s who at all in this strange story. The more traditional and obvious interpretations of the parable of the ten bridesmaids invite us to wonder about whether we’d find ourselves in league with the wise or the foolish. Are we wise, faithful and prepared, with enough oil to keep our lamps lit and be on time for the wedding banquet? Or are we foolish procrastinators, running out of oil and running to the store for more oil, just in time to miss the party?

Isn’t that what it seems to be about at first glance? Like someone is suggesting we keep awake, be prepared, keep our lamps trimmed and burning; that we keep the faith, practice our piety, do all the right things; so that when the bridegroom comes – who is clearly Jesus in this scenario – we’ll be welcomed into the party.

But this traditional interpretation requires us to wonder if Jesus is a jerk – like the bridegroom seems to be in this story; like he’s some sort of bouncer at the bar, checking IDs and deciding who gets in and who is kept out of the pearly gates of paradise, rather than the loving, generous, merciful, forgiving, gracious host I’ve been told my whole life to expect to greet me when the time comes. It’s a nightmare to suggest Jesus would leave us locked outside the Kingdom’s door, saying “very truly” that he doesn’t even know who we are.

Because, think about it, Jesus promised, earlier in this same Gospel, “Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” So that can’t be the guy standing at the door this morning at the wedding; the guy who lets the first five, wise ones in, and pretends he doesn’t even know the other late, foolish bridesmaids who ran out of oil. Are you with me?

This can’t be the same Jesus who, just two chapters earlier in this same Gospel, warned the scribes and Pharisees, “…woe to you … hypocrites! For you lock people out of the kingdom of heaven. For you do not go in yourselves, and when others are going in, you stop them.” Why would Jesus chastise gatekeepers and door-lockers in one breath and then invite us to imagine him to be one of them in the next? I don’t think he would. And I don’t think that’s what he’s doing this morning.

In a blog I read this week, a pastor named Michael Krey confirmed something I’ve preached before about this parable – that it’s fair and faithful to see the bridegroom at the door in this parable, not as Jesus at all, but as Peter – as Cephas – the rock on whom the Church is built. And he made it seem more obvious and concrete than I have ever thought before.

Remember that story about Peter? In this same Gospel, Matthew, Chapter 16, after Peter declares, with great faith, that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God, Jesus says that he’s right, and that, because of his faith, his name going forward would be Cephas, which means “Rock,” and upon that rock, he would build God’s Church; that he would give him the proverbial keys to the front door… I mean the keys to the wedding banquet… I mean the keys to the Kingdom… along with the power to bind and loose sins, and ostensibly, then, to choose who’s in and who’s out; who’s wise and who’s foolish; who wins and who loses; and so on and so on.

And if all of that’s true… if Peter is the one working the door and if Peter represents the Church… and if we are the Church – you and I… THAT’S where we find ourselves in this parable in the end. And THAT leaves us to wonder some pretty big stuff – not about how wise and foolish we are, like so many bridesmaids. But, we’re left to wonder, instead, how we manage the blessings of the Kingdom we’re called to share.

Who are we keeping out and who are we welcoming in? Are we a place that plays host only to the wise and the well-healed; those who have all the oil, if you will; all the resources; those who refuse to share with those the world would call foolish? Are we throwing a party for the wise bridesmaids who don’t have time or space or grace or mercy for the less fortunate; the less privileged; the late… or less desirable… or lazy… or whatever else the world encourages us to call those we don’t deem to be worthy of God’s fullness?

If you prayed over the course of this weekend’s 36 Hour Prayer Vigil, or if you paid attention to the materials we shared regarding this morning’s Commitment Sunday, or if you’ve just been around here for a while, I hope you have received the message that we are trying to share our oil and the light of our proverbial lamps with the world around us in as many ways as we can manage.

Remember, we’ve transformed our Building Fund into a Building and Outreach Fund, since we paid off our mortgage over a year ago. And that means we have plans to be prepared and ready, like so many wise bridesmaids, by saving some of our money for future expansion, and by saving for maintenance and repair needs, as they come. It also means we’re committed to giving 50% of those offerings away, outside of ourselves, to the tune of about $80,000 this year alone.

For me, that’s our way of saying, this isn’t all or only about “us,” by any stretch; that we’re always working to make room for more. That we’re always being called to give outside of ourselves. And that we’re forever being challenged to open our doors and our hands and our hearts to whoever comes knocking, looking for the banquet of grace we enjoy in this place, on behalf of the world.

Which brings me back to Peter, and the challenging invitation it is to see ourselves, in him, as God’s church in the world, manning the door to the Kingdom among us. See, the other evidence and justification we have for imagining that bridegroom to be Peter, is the last, awful thing he says to the bridesmaids he keeps locked outside of the wedding banquet. Do you remember what he said? “Very truly I tell you, I do not know you.”

Peter did that one other time, remember. Or three other times, actually, when he denied Jesus just before the crucifixion. “I don’t know the man,” he declared when he was accused of being one of Jesus’ disciples. The denial of the bridesmaids in the parable this morning is a foreshadowing of Peter’s denial of Jesus, himself. And it’s a warning for us, just that same, that that is not who or how we’re called to be as God’s Church in the world.

So may this parable be an invitation, not just to be wise instead of foolish and prepared at every turn; not just to store up and share our oil in faithful, responsible ways; not just to wait patiently and with hope for the coming of God’s Kingdom and, indeed, to recognize it in our midst.

But may this parable be another invitation to look for Jesus, himself … in the outcast among us … knocking at the door when we least expect it. And may it be encouragement to do our best to be prepared, with resources and with grace, with hospitality and with hope, to welcome him in to the feast that is his in the first place … and that is ours to share … always, for the sake of the world … until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream for all of God’s children, just as it has been promised to you and to me.

Amen