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| A windmill near my home. |
Lectionary 33, Year A – November 16, 2014
Text: Matthew 25:14-30 (Parable of the Talents)
Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Grand Prairie, Texas
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Grace and peace are yours, from the
One Who was, Who is, and Who is to come, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
If everything that we believed
about God was based solely on a quick read through this one parable, I don’t
know how many of us would be Christian at all. This parable is yet another
allegory – like so many of the parables are - where the characters in the story
symbolize someone else. Typically interpreted, the man handing out the talents
is God, and the slaves are the disciples of Jesus (and then us, by extension).
With the characters assigned that way, at first glance, this parable makes God
out to be a jerk who punishes the wicked and the lazy.
Lest we think that one measly
talent is just that – measly – I will remind you that one talent was worth
fifteen years of pay for a laborer. So, even though the third slave is given
less than the other two slaves, what he is given is still quite a lot. It is
his fear that keeps him from doing
anything at all with this money, and so he is cast into the outer darkness,
where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
But in applying this story to us as
disciples of Jesus, rather than thinking of the outer darkness as being an
actual place or space where the slave is cast at the end of the story, I think
instead about the hell that we enter when we don’t venture anything at all.
When we are trapped by fear – fear that immobilizes us completely – fear that
takes away our ability to think creatively and to have fun and to love others –
when we are trapped by fear, we are in a hell of our own making.
Imagine with me a different ending
to this parable: What if the third slave had not lived in fear? What
if that third slave had taken that one talent and had done something wonderful
with it – Something creative? Something beautiful? Something meaningful?
Something that gained money not only for his master, but for others, too?
Often, when we venture, we gain.
I heard a story recently about a
young boy who grew up on a farm. On the farm, there was a windmill, and one
day, the boy decided to climb the windmill to see what he could see. He got up
to the top, about fifty feet up, and then he was too scared to climb back down.
The boy’s father wasn’t home, and, in fact, the only other person around the
farm that day was the boy’s uncle…who was deathly afraid of heights. The uncle
gathered up all of his courage, and then he climbed up the windmill to help his
nephew climb down the windmill.
What if the boy’s uncle had been
trapped by his fear? He would’ve remained at the bottom of the windmill, not
able to help the young boy overcome his own fear to climb down the windmill.[1]
On the other hand, as we each decide
how to participate in the life and ministry of our congregation, we often have
to face down even more fear and allow God to develop even more faith in us. We
may think that we don’t have what it takes to get up and read in public, or to
lead worship, or preach, or teach. We may be very afraid to handle a chalice –
what if I spill the wine? (Hint: we clean it up!)
But think instead about facing
those fears head-on. The very work that you are scared to do may just be the
work that God is calling you to do. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I remember the summer after I
finished sixth grade, my church’s Music Director asked me to play a duet on my
flute with a church friend who played the clarinet. I had just started playing
flute in sixth grade; my friend – who was two years older - had just been
accepted into the High School for the Performing and Visual Arts in Houston for
his clarinet playing. I got the music and I practiced – but not too much – and
after we began rehearsing all together, I realized how awful this one section
really was for me, and compared to my friend, I sounded was even worse! I
wanted out.
Now, Wendy, the Music Director,
could’ve let me give in to those fears. She could’ve found someone else to
play, or just let my friend play his part and improvised the rest. But she
taught me instead the lesson of: Nothing ventured, nothing gained. She pulled
out the difficult section for me and let me play the parts that I could play. I
was terrified, but I did it. The duet was…OK, when all was said and done. (I
still remember the look of pride on her face when we finished.) The important
part was not that I hit every note perfectly, but that I played the flute in
worship in front of about 200 people.
Now, as an adult, whenever I do
anything musical in front of others, and people make comments like, “I don’t
know how you do it! I’d be so nervous!” I respond, honestly, “I get nervous,
too. And sometimes, I feel like it sounds pretty bad. All I can do is offer my
best, even if I think that’s not quite good enough.”
All we can do is offer our best in
our service to God and to others, in spite of whatever fears we may have. Face
your fears, head-on. Climb the windmill. Take what God has given you, and don’t
bury it because of fear. Use it, with love and creativity and joy and a
thankful heart. And God will most certainly use you to show his love to others.
Amen.
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[1] Thanks to Rolf Jacobson for sharing this story about
his own family at our Bishop’s Convocation this past October.
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