New Consecration Sunday Proper 28A/Matthew 25:14-30
Maybe you’ve heard it said that your talent is God’s gift to you, and what your do with it is your gift to God. And then again, maybe you’ve heard this one—
“For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them… to each according to his ability…” That’s a familiar message, no? Perhaps disturbingly familiar, because it affirms a widespread value in our culture: that people who happen to have more resources have them because they somehow deserve them more. We also call that kind of thinking entitlement, and it actually runs counter to the prevailing biblical image of the God who gives generously to all, without any corresponding merit on our part.
You know the God I’m talking about. The one who insisted that creation was good, very good, the one who gave the generous gift of manna in the desert, the one who repeatedly called prophets to witness to God’s abundance and our obligation to care for each other, the one who fed the 5000, the one who inspired the radical sharing of the Acts 2 community.
So with good reason, there is considerable debate among biblical scholars as to whether the man in this parable is supposed to represent God. You recognize the problem: he is an absentee property owner, he seems to profit from the labors of others, and he responds rather violently to someone whose worst crime seems to have been caution. If that’s a characterization of God, then we might as well be worshipping an organized crime boss. On the other hand, we know that Matthew’s Gospel was birthed in a community suffering under extreme political persecution, so maybe the evangelist was making a hyperbolic case for taking bold risks for God.
In that case, the question would then be which kind of risk-taking servants each of us will be, and I could probably preach you quite a rousing stewardship sermon on that basis. But since today’s gospel lesson is a parable, which Jesus generally used as a way to challenge prevailing assumptions rather than reinforce them, I wonder if finding allegorical equivalents for the property owner and the servants is the best way to unpack today’s Gospel.
Here’s the question I’m wanting to ask of this parable. If the owner gave to each according to his ability, exactly what ability did he have had in mind? Ability to work hard? Ability to turn a profit? Ability to stomach risk? Ability to function without much supervision while he disappears for a long time?
Or might it be… that he was looking for the ability to dream big? The ability to imagine that whatever we have in our possession—whether little or much—is powerful and capable of multiplying itself to an astonishing degree? Think about that possibility for a moment. It fits the parable. It fits the truth of the human condition, because we’ve all experienced how powerful dreams can be in shaping outcomes. And here’s something else. Remember how the third servant was the only one who said “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man… so I was afraid.” This servant was so scared of the guy who gave him talents that he did nothing with them at all. But what if the owner had been looking for servants with the ability to believe that his intentions were good?
As the consultant to your stewardship program, I’ve been privileged to hear the stories of your own giving, so I can bear witness to what kind of servants you are. You trust each other. One of your own recently offered this unsolicited testimony—
Music, especially singing with our choir, is my way of connecting to God. It’s very, very powerful, is a great support to me, and gives me more than I ever thought possible. So you would think music is the main reason I give to St. Paul’s, but it’s not. Not at all.
I needed a place to experience God in my own unique way, and St. Paul’s was there. I wanted to be a part of a community with people that came from different backgrounds than I did, cared about each other, and the needs of the world around us, and St. Paul’s was there. My sister came down with life threatening cancer at a young age, and St. Paul’s was there. Our house burned down in the Oakland Fire, and St. Paul’s was there. I became afflicted with serious health challenges, and St. Paul’s was there.
St. Paul’s attracts the most delightful, interesting, gifted and generous people anywhere to be found. I wasn’t looking for this, but St. Paul’s gave me this, too.
I give money to St. Paul’s so it can be there for me, for my family, for our congregation, for the good works we do and have done, for the casual attendee, for the neighborhood. And for the people who we may not know, and may not know us, but at some point in the future, will need what St. Paul’s has to offer.
Why do you give to St. Paul’s? Honestly, I’d love to know because I bet each one of you has a story like this. From what I’ve heard, you seem to not only trust God who gives the gifts and each other, but you are dreaming about the people who are not yet a part of this loving community.
So today offers you yet another opportunity to trust each other. At the end of the service today, you’ll do something new. Principally, you’ll have a great big party to celebrate this season of generosity—your annual pledge drive—but you’ll also be bringing your estimates of giving forward at the end of the service, as a public act of witness and of worship. If anybody here is planning to go away on a long journey, I want to give you fair warning. You’re going to entrust your talents to this community before you go.
And while I’m talking about trust, I want to speak very briefly about tithing. This is the standard for giving in the Episcopal Church—indeed for all Christians—and many of us do it as a spiritual discipline. Some of us should probably be giving more than a tenth of our income. And most of us are working towards it. That’s OK. Giving is always an act of mutual trust, which grows as we challenge ourselves and each other. I hope that you commit a proportion of your household income to St. Paul’s. And whether the proportion is 2% or 6% or 15%, I hope that you commit enough to be surprised by the results.
However you are called to estimate your giving this year, I just ask that you don’t bury your talents. Because you and your church have a bigger capacity to dream than that. Give generously. Give because you are grateful. Give because you are working towards a tithe as a spiritual discipline. Give because you believe in this community. Give on behalf of those not yet here. Or give because you’re just crazy enough to trust that the man who gives the talents—who just might be God after all—has invested everything in us. Because God is the one who believes that we have the ability to dream, trusts us, and is just waiting for us to us to enter into his joy.
