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“Risk” Gospel Lesson: Matthew 25:14–30
Today’s gospel lesson is about really living, but the problem is this: Life is risky! Jesus tells a parable, a story, about an obviously well-to-do man who, before going on a long journey, entrusts all of his property to his servants. To one he gives five talents—an enormous amount of money, as a “talent” was a measurement of value in Jesus’ day that was worth about 15 years’ wages—to another servant he gives two talents, and to another one, “each according to his ability.” The parable does not assume that everyone has the same ability to do everything, but that each person—even a lowly servant—has unique abilities, so the master does not want to burden someone with being in charge of something or performing a duty that that person simply could not do. Well, the first two servants made out quite well in an apparent “bull” market (livestock options? mutton futures? no pun intended) and are amply rewarded by the owner when he returns. But the third servant played it safe and did not invest his funds at all, and for his seeming prudence the owner calls him a “wicked and lazy slave,” takes everything away from him, and then orders him “thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Now before you start thinking about some possible anger management issues here, we need to take a longer look at this seemingly “sinned against” servant. It’s probable that we all have a secret empathy for the poor man: carefully wrapping his valuables, perhaps to bury them in the ground for protection against theft or loss—only to be punished later for the careful stewardship of his possessions! What was so bad about that? He did, after all, only what many of us would regard as the appropriate action of a prudent man or woman. Can’t you hear him saying, “Okay, I figure the boss is a hard man, so I’d better be careful here. I am not going to risk 15 years worth of wages on an investment strategy with no guarantees that I won’t lose it all. The other guys might do very well, sure, but there’s just as much a possibility that they’ll lose everything. I’m going to play it safe. I may be called unimaginative, overly cautious, maybe, but it’s people like me who sustain this society, not those reckless speculators who can bring it down. Besides, it looks to me that the boss always grabs what is not his anyway; taking what he doesn’t deposit, reaping what he doesn’t sow, getting all the credit for stuff he doesn’t do, living lavishly far away off the reward of my hard work and sweat and tears. In fact, the more I think about it, the angrier I get! I’m not even going to put the pound in the bank, because I’ll be…well, dog-goned, if I let him collect a dime’s worth of interest on money he gave to me!” Now, is there anything wrong with the unfortunate servant’s response? No, not really…if you consider nothing to be a virtue. He may be a reasonable man, we may feel sorry for him for receiving such harsh treat by the owner, we may even identify with him, but the fact remains that he did nothing, and for that reason he should be the patron saint of many of our churches. Ernie Campbell, the former minister of the Riverside Church in New York City, once called attention to a bit of graffiti on a wall near his church: “I am neither for nor against apathy.” It is apathy, then, that becomes the justification for inaction, for doing nothing. What is it that we are supposed to do? The key to interpreting this parable is to know that in the Gospel of Matthew the author is describing an aspect of the Kingdom of Heaven that focuses on our response to God’s grace. It is a teaching about faith, not how good an investor you are. Elsewhere, the disciples cried out to Jesus “Lord, increase our faith!” I imagine that Jesus laughed in response to such a question, because in Matthew’s gospel,
But all are called to use whatever faith they have. What prevents us using, risking our faith? Fear. Fear is the opposite of faith, the bedrock on which the kind of risky activity that this parable calls for must rest. The “faith-less” servant was above all afraid of making a mistake, and the failsafe way to avoid all mistakes is to do nothing at all. But “from those who have nothing” (vs. 29)—nothing in their heads, nothing in their hearts, nothing to do with their time or their talents—then “even what they have will be taken away.” That, my sisters and brothers, is living in the “outer darkness” that our text describes as the home of the unfortunate servant; it is as though we were dead. As someone once put it, “fear of failure, fear of punishment, fear of loss have not only paralyzed this servant, but many servants and many congregations. The unfortunate servant was afraid perhaps of many things, but at the heart of it was the fear of failure. At a recent retreat of the Cathedral Chapter (the governing board) and senior staff members, all of us were asked to recall a time of discernment when we had to make a life changing decision. It was a powerful moment to hear the stories of these men and women who all faced a time when they had to make a choice to go down a road that led them to their present situations. In each case, taking a risk was necessary, even though the possibility of failure was great. Business consultant Peter Drucker—who just died a few days ago, God rest his soul—has defined four different kinds of risks: the risk one must accept, the risk one can afford to take, the risk one cannot afford to take, and the risk one cannot afford not to take. It is this last kind of risk that Jesus challenges us to consider in today’s gospel. Sometimes the risk is taken because the heart demands it. In 1944, when Jim was 40 years old, he was serving in the Navy on a remote island in the South Pacific. With plenty of time on his hands, he thought he’d try his hand at writing. He didn’t expect it to go anywhere, but he thought he’d give it a shot. A friend suggested that no one published short stories anymore, but Jim plunged ahead nevertheless. The resulting book received a few minor reviews, but after the book was finally reviewed by the New York Times it was well on its way to a Pulitzer Prize. A friend, Ken McKenna, tried to get Hollywood to pick up the book for the film industry, but he was told that it “had no dramatic possibilities.” McKenna, though, went out on a limb and introduced the book to two composers, Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein. Although Rogers and Hammerstein got on board with the idea, others scoffed at the story being turned into a musical, starring of all people, an opera singer over fifty years of age! Yet, that musical, South Pacific, became a huge hit and an enduring treasure in movie history. The sailor/author, James Michener, went on to write four dozen bestselling books, including Hawaii, The Bridges at Toko-Ri, The Source, The Covenant and Space. This Pulitzer Prize-winning author and Medal of Freedom winner reflected on getting his first break, saying, “You can understand why I like people who stick out their necks.” And many years later he said, “I think young people ought to seek that experience that is going to knock them off center.” It is easy, perhaps, to recall the stories of the rich and famous when commending the taking of risks, but what about the rest of us? Not many here this morning are wealthy or in the public eye; not many are heads of big firms, or are high government officials. Is huge monetary or material success or fame the only measure of having taken enormous risks to achieve great things? My parents (who are here this morning) migrated in 1951 from rural North Carolina to the nation’s capital with nothing. Well, they did have one thing: faith—faith in God, faith in themselves, and faith if they risked all that they had to seek a better life for themselves and their children here, then something good would happen. With little money, little formal education, and no connections in this city, they worked and prayed and saved and invested their energies to succeed in business and in government finance. They raised my brother and me to do the same in our own way. They have been incredible role models for us in how to live this life, and while not rich or famous in the world’s terms, they are the most successful people I know. So what about you? In this congregation right now, God—just like the benevolent master of the parable—has given some of us the enormous ability to be peacemakers, so much so that the conflicts in the Middle East could cease if these persons would invest their talents in that area. In this congregation this morning, there is the wherewithal to cure the major diseases that are ravaging our world today. In this very congregation, there is enough talent to end extreme global poverty, to stop senseless violence, to protect the integrity of creation, and to plant the seeds of the kingdom of God everywhere. Is this just an unrealistic dream of a religious idealist? You may think so, but if I did, then I’m just like that unimaginative servant in the parable, wandering around in the outer darkness because he refuses to risk anything for the cause. By his inaction, he chose hell. I think I’ll choose faith! |