Many of you know my recent history—that in the last 3 ½ years, I resigned from a long and successful career in public education to go to seminary, that we put the only house our daughters knew on the market and sold or gave away many of our belongings to move into a 2-bedroom seminary apartment, that I applied for a pastoral residency knowing that I would not be placed in our even near my native state of Texas, that we came here, my accepting this call when Kevin did not yet have a call. Knowing all that, you would probably find it difficult to believe that I do not consider myself a risk-taker.
For you see, playing it safe was valued in my family of origin. Taking risks was not. Having begun to learn the clarinet in junior high, I did not try out for oboe or bassoon when I reached high school. There were too few spots for those instruments, and I had already begun to secure a place in the 1st clarinet section. In my senior year, I ran for secretary—not president—of the National Honor Society. Three others were running for president, and no one else for secretary. Although history was my college major and my passion, I signed up for student teaching in my minor—math because school districts posted more math openings than history jobs. Play-it-safe . . . avoid risks . . . that was my motto.
Imagine, if you will, my sense of injustice when I first read this parable. For the prudent servant, the one who does not gamble, the one who makes sure not one cent of the master’s money is lost, is labeled wicked and lazy. Imagine my horror when the master banishes him into the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Where is the grace in that? Well, maybe if we rotate this parable, turn it around, and
look at it from a different angle we’ll see some grace. Let’s consider the perspective of the man who entrusts his property to his servants. The master chooses servants from his household who should know him well, servants he has taught and for whom he has been a model. These are the ones he chooses to entrust his estate with. He gives responsibility to each of them, according to their abilities—not overburdening any one of them. He hands out talents. A talent was the equivalent to what a person could earn in 15 years. That’s a lot of money! To one servant, he gives 5 talents, to another, he gives 2, and to the 3rd servant, he gives 1 talent. Each servant receives a supremely generous opportunity.
The first 2 servants do indeed understand their master. They know what is important
to him, and how he would manage his estate. So, they trade their talents—their huge sums of money—by taking huge risks. How else, even in 1st century A. D. Palestine would you expect to double your investment—except through great risk? These servants know their master, they know he takes risks. After all, isn’t he taking a risk with them? So, they follow his model. Do you hear the joy in their voices when he returns and settles accounts with them? “Master, you gave me responsibility for part of your estate and look, I doubled the amount you gave me!”
And the master’s response reflects back their joy. ‘Well done! You are good and faithful servants. Because you’ve been faithful over a little, I’ll put you in charge of much. Come, celebrate with me. Enter into the joy of your master.”
Then, there’s the 3rd servant. Even though he’s been living in this household, watching his master, listening to him explain how he operates his estate, this servant does not know his master. He does not understand what makes him tick. Instead of using his money to improve the estate, he buries it. He puts it in the ground and walks away from it. No longer in his possession, he does not have to think about his master’s money or about his master’s estate. He does not have to think about his master at all in his absence. He can just continue his regular-day-to-day routine. Go on as if this generous gift was never entrusted to him. Go on as if he was never offered the opportunity to join in his master’s work, to increase his master’s wealth, to become more like his master, to enter into his master’s joy. He buries the gift and walks away from it. He does not let it interfere with his life. He does not let the gift change him.
That is why, when the master returns to settle accounts, he calls this servant wicked and lazy. That is why the master is angry with him, and takes away his talent. That is why he casts this servant out of the household, off the estate—into the outer darkness. Because this servant never really knew his master. Because he did not accept the gift. He would not let it change his life.
In the parable, 3 servants are entrusted with huge sums of money—talents. But the parable is not about money, nor is it about talents—as in the skills that we possess. It’s about the gift of God’s grace. In the parable, a wealthy man entrusts his business with his servants. But the parable is not about business. It’s about the church. In the parable, one servant buries the money entrusted to him—playing it safe,
so that he loses not one cent of his master’s money. But the parable is not about playing it safe. It’s about taking risks—the kind of risks Jesus Christ took.
This parable is about accepting the oh-so-generous-gift of God’s grace and letting it change our lives. It is about sharing our experience of God’s love so that others will enjoy it with us. It is about being faithful disciples.
Being faithful disciples. What does that mean? What does that look like? Jesus calls us into reconciliation. So being faithful disciples may mean, admitting our own part in the breakdown of a relationship. It may mean—saying “I’m sorry. How can we move forward?” It may mean communicating—openly and honestly.
For his disciples, Jesus called together a diverse group—day laborers, a tax collector, political zealot, and religious fanatic. Into his table fellowship, he invited those not considered “polite society”—tax collectors, prostitutes, and sinners. So being faithful disciples may mean opening our building, opening our fellowship, opening our lives to people we have not previously invited.
Jesus commissioned his apostles to make disciples—by baptizing and by teaching. So faithful discipleship may mean committing ourselves to study—so that we can engage
these new people we welcome into our building and into our fellowship in relevant Biblically-grounded conversation. Committing ourselves to study would actually be re-claiming a past tradition of this church. I have heard members reminiscing—with great fondness—about learning the faith with Miss Bereniece in Sunday school, about being a bluebird—a member of a Sunday afternoon confirmation group, about choosing scenes for the stained glass windows with Miss Pearl, and about delving deep into Bible study led by Bill Funk.
We are faithful disciples in the risky living and sharing of the gospel—both in our personal, private lives and in our corporate church life. Founded 144 years ago, this church is no stranger to the risky living and sharing of the gospel. Through 5 building campaigns (1870, 1905, 1928, 1961, and 2000) members of this church provided space to worship, grow, study, fellowship and serve. This congregation is no stranger to the risky living and sharing of the gospel. For over 20 years, you have provide affordable ½ day pre-school. This congregation is no stranger to the risky living and sharing of the gospel.
Your Presbyterian Women’s group has a long and rich history of supporting mission—providing clothes for those in need here in our community and providing funds for mission work outside of Paola—through PCUSA programs.
This congregation is no stranger to the risky living and sharing of the gospel. Four years ago, you stepped out in faith—claiming your Presbyterian heritage, worshiping with one another, and navigating your way through a spiritual, emotional, physical, and financial storm. You trusted God to be with you, and God was.
This congregation is no stranger to the risky living and sharing of the gospel. Less than a year ago, you set out to pay off your mortgage. You trusted God to provide, and God did. This congregation is no stranger to the risky living and sharing of the gospel. 3 months ago, you called a recent seminary graduate, a woman, to be your full-time pastor. We are trusting God to guide us into the future God has planned for us. And God will.
Jesus is the master in this parable. He gives each of us a supremely generous gift of grace. Through his model—what we see in his life and ministry—he shows us the kinds of risks he took, the kinds of risks he calls us to take. And he promises, through our faithfulness, we will enter into his joy.
Thanks be to God!
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