Here's the Bill

Matthew 25:14-30

All too often, this parable becomes a call to use the gifts we have or risk the wrath of God. The thing that sticks in my craw with that interpretation is that nothing in this parable rings of a characterization of God or God’s kingdom. The wealthy overlord might as well be any plutocrat running amok at the moment. The servants gaining praise simply play into the system of the overlord—greed, conniving, and all else are fair play if it ends in a profit. One servant refuses to play. He may well be standing against the rapacity of the world and only gets cursed and cast aside for his protest. There is no grace. There is no shalom. There is nothing positive in this story.

Until we note where it comes in Jesus’ teaching.

As Jesus ends his ministry in Jerusalem at the temple, he engages in what some scholars refer to as The Second Sermon on the Mount—a set of teachings offered on the Temple mount, a final summation of Jesus’ thinking, and a reminder of what is the core of discipleship. Our parable comes right between two parables that fit neatly into the presumed worldview of Christ’s other-centered compassion—the parable of the bridesmaids on being prepared and the parable of the sheep and goats, directly stating the ethic of Christ’s kingdom—the blessed are those who care for the neediest of all. 

So how does the story of the talents fit into these lessons?

First, it really is about the world as the world is. A talent was a huge monetary coin—literally fifty pounds of gold. A talent represented 15 years’ salary. Enormous wealth is being handed over to the servants. The giver expects a return. The calling to accounts will to be brutal. What’d you make me?, is the demand. Two servants managed to double the amount entrusted to them. We find out from the third servant how this money makes money. The overlord is ruthless. He reaps where he does not sow. The overlord is driven by acquisition. He takes crops from seed he did not plant. The overlord could care less about the means as long as the end is riches. Two servants, goes the implication, bought right in. Success! They’ve learned from the master so well, they rise in the business! This story is a story told and retold in every commercial center in the world. The bottom line is the ultimate gauge. Riches equal power. See, for example, Saudi Arabia, as the crown prince consolidates his power by jailing all his rivals. Hear, for example, NY Times columnist Paul Krugman addressing the tax debacle that simply makes the rich richer at the expense of everyone else—

…last week one G.O.P. congressman, Chris Collins of New York, gave the game away: “My donors are basically saying get it done or don’t ever call me again.” So we’re talking about government of the people, not by the people, but by wealthy donors, for wealthy donors. Everyone else hates this plan — and they should.

Second, pay closer attention to that third servant. He buries his talent. He returns it to the overlord, who cannot believe the idiot did not even invest it with bankers to earn interest. Had it been last week instead of 2000 years ago, a tweet storm would ensue deriding the poor slob. Instead, he is cast into the proverbial outer darkness to wail and gnash his teeth. But he preserves his soul. He stands against the way of the world. Here could well be a very definition of faithful action—live by self-emptying mercy, losing any and all self-interest, bringing the kingdom of God built on compassion.

From the Beatitudes in the first Sermon on the Mount to the sheep and goats of the second sermon on the Temple mount, Jesus tells any and all would-be disciples that there is a cost to discipleship. If one chooses to make compassion one’s end, there will be a reaction, and it may well be violent opposition. Power is a self-preservation entity. Jesus knows the cost of standing against power. He never once shies away from the cross standing at the end of the road. And he promises the same cross to any who would follow. The third servant meets his cross, but he is in Christ’s kingdom.

We tend to downplay that aspect of faith. Perhaps it is the emptier pews. Perhaps it is the ever-graying denizens who remain with no younger replacements. Perhaps it is the harder stewardship campaigns and budget processes that feel like scraping for gleanings. Whatever the reason, we tend to want to keep it positive. We tend to make faith a simple act of attending worship and making a contribution, perhaps even going so far as asking for a once a month turn at the homeless shelter to serve soup. But we don’t mention the cost. We tend to minimize the cross. We don’t ask people to challenge much of anything in the world directly. We don’t ask anyone to get uncomfortable.

But our world is out of control. Las Vegas, New York, Sutherland Springs, and now Tehama County, CA; reveal the chaos. Innocents shot. Children terrorized. We watch horrified as Christianity gets another black eye from those who would defend pedophiles, align with the power-mad, and otherwise sell all that is soulful in the pursuit of worldly power.

Jesus offers peace, but it is peace that comes through radical transformation of the world as it is. Radical transformation does not come easy. There will be a cost for the transformers. There will come a direct reaction against anyone daring to stand against the tides of the world. But there will be peace—a peace that passes all understanding—that comes through the transformation of the world. Yes, Jesus gave his life, but love ruled. Not even death could hold him.

Not even death could hold him.

It is time for us who claim the name of Jesus to stand against the obscene caricature of Christianity that protects a pedophile, sides with a sexual predator, and buys into the rapaciousness of the world as it is, all in the name of protecting a political ideology. We stand for something other. We stand for self-emptying compassion. We stand for healing, wholeness, and grace. We need to bury the way of the world, leaving it. Instead, we need to reach across all the forms of the abyss leading to fatal and murderous isolation and alienation. We need to empty ourselves to fill the needy. We need to love the unlovable. We need to make the unlivable habitable. We need to care for the children of God—all 7.5 billion of them here now—as the beloved children they are. 

So, take a stand. Return the talent given. Replace it with the true treasure—the love of Jesus. As Jesus mentioned in the Sermon on the Mount—Where your treasure is, so, too, shall be your heart. Let’s love the right things.

And all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.