Matthew 25:14-30
There is an old familiar saying: Be careful what you wish for, you might get it. It comes from that wise fellow, Aesop, who told a story about an elderly man trying to gather up some firewood and finding that he is too frail to carry the load. In exasperation he called upon death to come and get him. To his surprise, death appeared and asked, “What can I do for you, old man?” The startled man said, “O! nothing at all; sorry to have bothered you.” We sometimes wish for things simply because we haven’t thought it through well enough.
We wish to win the lottery without thinking through the various costs such good fortune might present. There are enough cautionary tales about people who did win the lottery and have nothing but bitterness and woe from the experience. If you are like me, you think, “But I would handle it much more wisely.” Maybe we would, but that doesn’t guarantee it wouldn’t come with a whole host of headaches or that it would increase our quality of life.
Be careful what you wish for.
This parable we hear from Jesus in today’s text seems to be another situation in which the old saying might apply. Three slaves are summoned by their wealthy master. The master is preparing to go on a trip that will keep him away from his estate for a long time. He has decided to entrust the management of his property to these slaves, so he distributes his funds among them, to each according to his ability.
The master apparently thought the first slave had great ability. He gave him five talents. The second slave fell short of great, and he gave him only two talents. And the third slave, who is just so-so, received a paltry one talent.
But hold on – let’s consider the kind of money we are talking about here. A talent was a unit of currency, the equivalent of 6,000 denarii. You might recall from the parable of the laborers in the vineyard, a single denarius was the usual daily wage for a laborer. So get out your calculator and see that one talent is the equivalent of about 16.5 years of labor – that is, if you worked seven days a week, 52 weeks a year.
The low guy on this totem pole received what might possibly be a lifetime’s worth of wages. The next guy got two of those and the best guy got five. Literally, he was handed five times as much money as he could expect to earn over his adult life.
Granted, this wasn’t a gift. The master handed over these sums to his slaves as a trust. The master was expecting his slaves to steward these funds – that is to say, make good use of them, manage them responsibly, while the master was gone.
The first slave went to work and turned five talents into ten talents, by trading wisely. The second slave did just as well with the amount he was given, doubling his money. When the master returned, they proudly handed over these very impressive gains.
But the third slave was different. He did something that was not uncommon in that time and place. If you simply wanted to safeguard your money, you would bury it in the ground. There would be no real benefit, but no loss either. It might seem like a smart thing to do, but in contrast to the other two slaves, it looks bad. It was lazy. It was gutless, unadventurous, unimaginative. The master says it was wicked.
And I can see his point. Is it good stewardship to let such a valuable resource just sit in the ground? Or under the mattress? Or in the bank?
There is another story from Aesop. A miser buries his treasure in the ground. And makes frequent trips to visit his gold. Someone notices his coming and going, gets curious, finds the treasure and steals it. The miser wails in grief about his loss. One friend suggests that he take a rock, wrap it up in cloth and them bury it in the same place and think of it as his treasure. Because, he says, that will do you just as much good as the treasure did, buried as it was underground.
The third slave dug up the talent when the master returned, brushed the dirt off it, and presented it to his master. Here you are, Master, exactly what you gave me – no more and no less. And the master, undoubtedly, demanded an explanation. The other two slaves did so well. What happened here? Why were you unable to do the same?
The slave’s reason? He was afraid. Let’s take a moment to ponder that.
What kinds of things has your fear stopped you from doing? I think of the times I didn’t dance, for fear of making a fool of myself. The times I didn’t speak up when I disagreed, for fear of making people angry. The times I didn’t loosen my grip on something, for fear of losing it. The times I didn’t say I love you, for fear of being rejected.
The times I didn’t help another, for fear that I might not have enough for myself. All the times I didn’t take a chance, for fear that I would somehow fail.
This fearful slave was so paralyzed by fear that all he could manage to do was bury the talent and feel relieved that it was no longer his burden. All of us do this at times. Even churches do this. But let me tell you about a church that was different.
Back in the 1970s, the LaSalle Street Church in Chicago went into a partnership with three other churches in the city to build affordable housing. Each church put their money, time, and energy into this project and ran a thriving mission in the city for decades. Eventually, they sold the building, dividing up the proceeds between the partners. LaSalle Street’s share of the profit was $1.6 million. This was much more money than they had ever seen at one time.
The pastor and the elders of the church decided to take 10% of the money and give it to the members – $500 to each member. The only instruction that came with it was to use it, in whatever way you see fit, to do God’s work in the world.
Some chose a charitable organization to give their portion, doing it in a way where their gift would be matched, turning their $500 into $1000. Some started a program to provide shoes for the homeless or coats for kids. One man started a local chapter of Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Others gave the money to someone they knew who was struggling financially.
But some never cashed the check. Perhaps they were afraid of making the wrong decision.
By coincidence, perhaps, the New Castle Presbytery did something like this a few years ago, when they cashed in some resources and sent a check to each congregation for $5,000 to start some new ministry. The money still sits in our bank account. I wonder why. Are we afraid?
Fear can prevent us from doing God’s work, and it is actually sinful to the extent that it reflects our failure to love and trust God.
The first epistle of John reminds us that perfect love casts out fear. It is good for us to remember that getting past our fear doesn’t come from being strong or courageous or exceptionally capable in every way. Getting past a powerful, paralyzing fear comes from finding a powerful, enlivening love.
Believe me when I tell you, I am as familiar with fear as anyone, perhaps more than you. But just as I can think of the many times I have let fear stop me, I can also tell you of times I pushed past the fear and stepped out in faith. Every time Kim and I have increased our pledge, not knowing exactly where we would find the extra money, it was out of love for the church and trust in the Lord.
Perfect love casts out fear. Our love may not be perfect, and our fear may never be erased. We are, each of us, a work in progress – if we dare to move toward love. On this stewardship Sunday, I pray that you will let love be your guide.
