Do I Dare?

So, we are getting closer to the end of Matthew, and as a result, closer to the end of Jesus' life here on Earth. And he's trying so desperately to knock a little sense into his disciples and followers. How are they going to carry on without him? He wants them to know that it's going to be hard. . . but at the same time, it's going to be ok. They will have his example; they will have each other; they will have God's spirit. It's going to be ok. But they can't just sit and wait. There's work to be done.


In our Gospel reading today, we have the familiar story of the talents. The master is going away, and he gives three slaves some talents (in today's dollars, a talent would be worth about half a million). To one guy he gave five, to another he gave two, and to the last one he gave one. And he told them to take care of this money. And as we know, the one with five talents invested them and made five more, the one with two talents invested them and made two more, and that last guy, well, he got skittish and buried his and made nothing (he was probably lucky enough just to remember where he buried it!). And when the master came back, he gave the first two that “Well done, good and faithful servant! But to the last one, well, things didn't turn out very well.


He tells his master that he feared him as a harsh man and was afraid to do anything with what was entrusted to him. And you can almost hear the disappointment in the master's response: you thought that of me? You thought so little of me? That I am that cruel? How could you? I've cared for all of you, and I trusted you. You want to know what it's like to live in a cruel world? I'll show you what that's like. . . it's a world without me protecting you.


Most of the time we think of this parable as meaning that we should use our “talents” as Christians and not just wander away, ignoring our baptismal vows and living life just like so many others we meet, cold, reserved, not caring about others. And I reckon that's a good interpretation. . . up to a point. And indeed, there are lots of fellow believers who see God as that sort of cruel master and are afraid to step out of line and take a chance.


What a life it must be, to live afraid of God.


So I think that maybe when we understand this parable in that traditional way, we skirt around an important issue and miss the point altogether.


I had a friend who was a priest down in Chattanooga. She retired from a church which painted portraits of their former rectors and associate rectors, and she had to sit for hers. She had gone to an artist’s studio to have her portrait drawn. The artist took his time, asking her a number of questions aimed at drawing her out so he could get some sense of who she was, trying to capture that inner person on the canvas. Eventually he asked her what she feared most.


Her first answer was devastating war. She mentioned that she had repeatedly had nightmares about nuclear holocaust growing up, and she hadn't gotten over it what with all the awfulness currently going on in the world.

But the artist said, "No, I don't believe you. That can’t be right. What do you fear most?


She tried again. “I am afraid that our children won't be left as good of a life as we've had.”


“No,” said the artist. What do YOU fear? Something more personal."

My friend said she thought and thought. Finally it dawned on her. "What I fear most is getting to the end of my life and realizing that I had been too fearful – too careful – that I never really trusted God to help me live into his love"

"That's it," the artist said.


She ended her story, looked at me, and quoted John of the Cross: In the evening of life we will be judged on love alone.


This parable isn't about using your talents or investing your talents. Well, it is, but it isn't. I think it's about trust. It's about how in this harsh, cruel world, the biggest miracle that God has bestowed upon us is love, a love so deep that he came to us, to be like us, and to show us what true love is. And all God asks in return is that we trust in Christ's love. Trust that that love will grow and spread. That if we take Christ's love and give it away freely, investing in loving our neighbors, loving those who hate us, loving those who don't even know us...well, that love will blossom and return more than we can imagine.


Trusting God's love.


As you know, Fr. Brooks is my best friend. A few years ago, he and his wife, Becca, walked the Camino Ingles in Spain, a pilgrimage that ends at the Santiago de Compostela (the tomb of St. James). When they reached their destination, Brooks sent me a picture of two candles that he lit, side by side, because, he said, “We always sat side by side at chapel in seminary, and we lived side by side, and we did most everything side by side.


There is trust in that act. Trust that God loves us, and that God has been with us each in our journey through life. And trust that this simple act of devotion would be seen by thousands who have come to that place from all over the world. They may not understand the actual meaning of what they see, but what they WOULD see is a prayer, a prayer stemming from Brooks's love of God and his love of his neighbor, of his friend. And maybe those thousands of unknown people will reflect on that, and light their own candles. And maybe they will go out into the world, loving God and loving their neighbors also. Lighting candles in the lives of others.


The trust that one person puts in God's love can spread like wildfire. The trust YOU put in God's love can, too. It can come back again and again, to be carelessly given away, also again and again, trusting that God will take that love and use it.


Don't bury that. Don't keep it in the dark only to be taken out one hour a week. Be lavish with it. Squander it. Give it again and again. Tell people where it came from. Tell them your master is not a harsh God who punishes you for throwing caution to the wind. Tell them that your God IS the wind, and that wind will spread that love, will spread the seeds of your talents, around the world. Again and again and again.


If you just trust it to happen.


Amen.