Scary Talented [Proper 28A]

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Matthew 25:14-30

Scary Talented

There are a number of scary texts in the Bible – tales of the Devil, demon possession, of weeping and gnashing of teeth, and people thrown into the outer darkness. And there are others: there's that time when people offered the wrong kind of incense and were consumed by fire from heaven – which is why I have the acolytes prepare the incense, just in case. There is the part about everything you do in private being made public – which is especially scary for teenagers and politicians. There is pretty much everything in the book of Revelation. And there is that thing where the one perfect, sinless person who loves everybody gets nailed to a cross – which tells me that no one is safe.

And yet, growing up, there was no more terrifying story than this parable about the talents. Let me explain: When I was a child, I was pretty shy. I didn't like to draw attention to myself, didn't like to be in front of people. But I did like to sing – and I was good at it. And that was the problem. God gave me a talent, but I did not want to get up on the stage.

And I knew that put me in a precarious position, because I had heard this parable read and preached in church. And it always made me sweat. I didn't want to lose my singing voice. I didn't want God to take away my talent.

I grew up in the Pentecostal tradition. Pentecostals take the Bible seriously and quite literally – even take the parables literally, as allegories. And so I used to hear fairly often as a boy, “If you don't use your talents, God will take them away from you.” And that is a horrifying thought – especially for a child. But, as a means to an end, it is also an excellent way to get someone to do what you think they should do. And so, it was often applied, in my case, to singing. As in, “If you don't sing for Jesus, you are going to lose that nice singing voice.” And so you can see why this passage was for me the most terrifying of all.

Now at this point, it is worth saying that the word “talent” is the worst thing that ever happened to this parable. The worst thing. To us – especially those of us for whom English is our primary language – the word “talent” means an ability – an ability gifted to us by God or genetics for which we are responsible. If one hopes to live up to his or her potential, he or she must develop that talent – take the raw material and transform it, through hard work and effort, into something useful.

But the Bible was not written in English, neither did the events take place in the United States of America. I hope this is not news to you; I hope you knew that. It seems that the word “talent” found in today's English text was originally talanton in the Greek and simply meant a large sum of money – maybe something like 15-20 years wages for a low-level worker – a low-level worker like the servants in today's Gospel. It was a lot of money but that is all it was – just money. But because the master in our parable doled out the cash according to the ability of each servant, the word talent came to describe, in the English language, “one's natural ability to do something.”¹ Give the talents to the talented – or something like that.

The “talent” to “talent” etymological history made this parable easy. The interpretation was built right in. And why mess with that; so few parables are that straightforward. Overlooking all of the other details of the parable – some which should at least give us pause – this became the most obvious of Jesus' parables. Something like this: God gives us talents. God expects us to use, grow, develop those talents. If we don't use our talents, God will punish us, in fact banish us to the place of the weeping and the gnashing of the teeth – which sounds like a terrible place. And so you better be faithful with your talents, or else.

Which I guess, would mean, on the other hand, the inverse must be true as well: a good use of talent earns you divine favor and a place in Heaven. “Well done, good and trustworthy slave...enter into the joy of your master.”

There is something appealing about this interpretation. It allows us to be in control – of our fate, of eternity, of even God. Because of this parable, we know how to get into God's good graces: just sing on stage. That is, once you get over the stage fright, the easiest path to salvation. Unfortunately for us, we favor this whole grace-based system – one in which God loves us and marks us as Christ's own forever in baptism – rather than a “hard work earns heaven” theology. And so perhaps, this parable, this parable that seemed so easy, merits another look.

I think a good starting point is to look at this parable with fresh eyes – as if it were not in the Bible because the truth is when Jesus told it, it wasn't. What would you think if someone just told you this story: There was an incredibly rich man who decided to take go away for a while. But before he did, he called in three of his low-level employees and he gave one, let's say, 5 million dollars. Another he gave 2 million dollars. And to the third, he gave a million. The risk involved is huge, right? You might think at least one of the employees would be tempted to skip town, spend the rest of his days lounging on a Mediterranean beach. They were entrusted with more money than they would make in a lifetime as servants.

But they don't skip town and rich man's risk pays off in cold, hard cash. Though the three employees did not know it, this was basically a high-stakes job interview. The rich master gives no instructions but apparently his expectations were insanely high: double that cash. Now what you need to know about this rich man is that he is the kind of person who “reaps where he does not sow” - which is to say, either he steals from others or at least he makes his fortune exploiting the labor of others. Because more than anything, he likes to make money. He rewards the ones who hustle and double the money. It is not easy to double money without either crazy good luck or some ethically questionable behavior. But money is money and the ones who make him money are rewarded.

And then there is this third employee. In ancient times, burying money was known as the best way to protect it from thieves; they didn't have mattresses back then. And assuming the third employee was Jewish, which I think is fair given the context, benefiting from the system of usury – benefiting from the interest earned on the debts of others within the Jewish community – violated God's Law. So what he did was not unreasonable. He just did not play the game. He didn't make money but he didn't lose money either.

But the boss, the rich man, punishes the third employee severely for merely protecting the principle investment. And I think it is worth remembering that this third employee, the one he punishes, is also the one he judges least able. Remember he gives talents based on talent – to each according to his ability. And yet when the employee fails to meet his unspoken expectations, the rich man utterly destroys him.

If I told you this tale divorced from its biblical context, you might think I was talking about the mob or maybe an ultra-competitive hedge fund or Wall Street firm. You probably would not think I was talking about the kingdom of God. You probably would not associate the rich man with Jesus.

As the preacher, I, as much as anyone, would love to pretend that this is a simple parable. Then I could just scare you into using your talents, of course for the good of the parish, and we could get on with the Creed. But I am afraid it is not. Parables, it seems, never are.

If Jesus just wanted people to use their talents, he would say that. He is capable of speaking in a straightforward manner. He does so elsewhere in the Gospel. He tells parables for a reason. These parables are meant to hook the audience, to puzzle the head, heart, and soul with their hyperbole, humor, and absurdity. They are not meant to be easy; they are meant to work on us.

This parable begins with the absurd: like saying to us the CEO of Wendy's walked over to the fry station and handed an employee 5 million dollars and expected her to double it. That's not going to happen. That would be absurd. The absurdities, and hyperbole, and humor are not always obvious to us 2000 years later. And so we tend to use allegory and read the parables as morality tales – always starring God or Jesus in the role of Master. This parable more so even than most because of the talent translation.

But the easy answer only keeps us from digging into the heart of this parable. It prevents from having to go deeper. And so we stay at the surface and hone our talents to try to earn God's favor. Which we of course do not have to earn, because God already loves us.

I'm not sure what the right answer to this parable is. I'm not even sure there is one right answer. But I know this parable does work on me; it challenges me; it forces me to really ponder what Jesus wants for me, for us.

This parable speaks to me a little differently every time I encounter it. And I kinda think that is always the point of a parable. I think that is why Jesus spoke in parable instead of prose. He could have given us a straightforward, easy answer, but instead Jesus blesses us with questions.

That said, I'm not gonna leave you hanging. I am going to tell you what I hear in this parable, this time. This time, for me, it is about the absence. The rich man always leaves, every time, and this time I really noticed that. Now, I don't think the rich man in the story is Jesus. Jesus was a poor itinerant preacher who forgave his executioners. There's not much resemblance here.

But this parable was given to a Church that has long lived with the absence. Jesus spent three years in the ministry and almost two-thousand years away. And the Church has been waiting. And we are waiting still. Waiting for Jesus to return, to make things right, to make things better, to make this into the world of God's dreams. And as we wait in this volatile, scary, dangerous world, it is tempting to hide away, to play it safe, to bury our light behind our heavy doors and fortress walls.

But I think this parable is calling us to something else. This time, when I read this parable, I think it is Jesus calling his followers to get out there into this dangerous world with hearts wide open, to take a chance on something great, to put our all on the line for a better world, a world that is more dream than nightmare. Yes, we are still waiting for thy kingdom come, but we are not called to wait with our heads and hearts buried in the sand. I think this parable is Jesus calling us to love 'til it hurts, to hope with reckless abandon, to risk while we wait.

1 Sacra Pagina: Matthew, 352.