Sermons

“That’s One Theory”

Psalm 103:-1-12; Matthew 25:14-30 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – November 12, 2017

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that we might know your mercy and love and live in gratitude for all your blessings. In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

To be honest, I didn’t want to give this sermon at first. Having a seminary intern has been interesting for my preaching, I’m finding. First of all, I’m reflecting on and talking about the practice of the craft more than I’m used to doing. But mostly, now that we’re a couple months in, I’m also simply not preaching Every Single Week like I usually do. And as I’ve noticed before during certain strange interludes when that has happened before, I think it benefits us all for me to have the occasional break. But it also makes for some complicated internal conversations when suddenly it’s my turn again and the lectionary hands me something like the Parable of the Talents.

The Parable of the Talents is one of the reasons the lectionary was invented, I think. Because one of the primary functions of this three-year common schedule of scripture readings, used widely throughout mainline Protestantism and Catholicism, is to encourage preachers to preach on passages we wouldn’t choose if left to our own devices. And believe me, I would never have picked this one. Especially on Thanksgiving Sunday. What were they thinking with this timing? It’s like the lectionary year is almost over, and they’re just throwing in the leftover bits now.

Perhaps I need to clarify here. I have a knee-jerk, gut level reaction to this story, because of the way the “master” treats that last slave. And even more so, because the surface-level reading of this parable seems to encourage us to conflate the “master” with God. And the last thing I want anyone to take with them when they leave here is the impression that God is going to treat you cruelly and callously when you’re unproductive or afraid. God is delighted with the simple fact of your existence and desires only good and lovely things for you.

So honestly, I’d rather just ignore this parable, lest anyone get the wrong impression. But there is the lectionary, daring me to attempt a more complex level of analysis. And since I’ve only got three sermons left before I head off on sabbatical, I figured I should go for it. So let me start with the first thing I found to hold onto in this story. It’s not what’s there, but what isn’t there. If you still have your Bible out, take a look at the other parables in chapter 25. The very first verse clarifies the point of the Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids: “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this.” And the last parable in this chapter, perhaps the most well-known of them all, the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats, starts off with the words, “When the Son of man comes in his glory…”

But our parable for today, the detestable Parable of the Talents, starts off differently. It simply says, “For it is as if…” Now, we usually assume the “it” there is the same “it” as in the other surrounding parables, namely, the Kingdom of Heaven. But it doesn’t say that. What if this is the counter-example? Quite frankly, this parable – with its rich getting richer and its poor having what they had taken away and given to the rich – sounds a lot more like our current situation than the Kingdom of Heaven to me. What if this isn’t another way of describing heaven, but a counter-example? That would make everything make a lot more sense, wouldn’t it?

You can see here how much stretching I’m willing to do to avoid the obvious difficulties of this passage. This is an attractive argument, but not a particularly compelling one. So let’s set it aside for now. Perhaps it will become more useful later. In the meantime, there is a more fruitful option ahead of us.

As I continued to wrestle with this passage, it slowly dawned on me that it might contain justification for an early, not particularly theologically sophisticated theory of heaven I invented when I was young. The theory goes like this: When we die, everybody gets whatever they believed in. So, if they thought they were just going to get buried and become compost, that’s what happened to them. A nice, final offering back to the earth from which they came. If they believed that heaven was a beautiful place where everyone is welcomed and reconciled, and there’s lots of hot chocolate and cozy blankets, that’s where they ended up. And if they spent their lives in fear of a wrathful God and a fiery hell, self-righteously judging others by strict, reactionary standards, then that is the measuring stick that would be applied to their own conduct and the retribution awaiting them. Like I said, it’s not a particularly sophisticated theory, but it’s very satisfying, which is really what suppositions about heaven are about anyway, right?

So let me connect us up here. There is a contrast I want us to examine. Notice how the first two slaves, when the master returns, simply present the results of their actions. They don’t explain their choices. “I have made five more talents.” “I have made two more talents.” They don’t talk about why they chose to trade or what they traded in that led to their success. But the third slave does try to explain himself. Rather than starting with how much he has to hand over, he says, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid.” Only after this introduction does he confess what he did: “I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.” And as it turns out, he gets exactly the kind of response he was expecting.

Why is this third slave’s rationale explained, and the other two not explored at all? What if this parable isn’t so much about God or the kingdom of heaven, but more saliently, a reflection on the earthly and heavenly consequences of our understandings of God? Our beliefs about God make a difference. That is the foundational truth upon which this parable is built. If we see God as cruel and exploitative, we will live fearfully, taking no risks, reaping no rewards, and adding no blessing to our own lives or anyone else’s. If we see God as generous and merciful, we will live boldly and generously ourselves, bringing blessing upon ourselves and God’s world. Our beliefs about God make a difference.

If we see God as up in heaven, far removed from this temporary creation, we will disregard the damage we inflict upon the earth, the air, and the seas. If we see God as a Loving Creator, who invites us into the ongoing co-creation of our world, we will work to live in harmony with the earth and all that is in it. If we believe God, above all else, to be an old man in the sky who gets whatever he wants, then we will rationalize the exploitation and abuse of girls and women. If we believe that God is the animating force of Love in the universe, whose image is reflected in every human person, then we will cherish every child and protect the vulnerable. Our beliefs about God make a difference. They have consequences. Here on earth, and for all I know, also in the kingdom of heaven. Is that what this parable is aiming to teach? I can’t say for sure, but I know it’s a lesson we do well to learn.

So what does this realization mean for us, in the context of Thanksgiving Sunday? Celebrating Thanksgiving in the church, we should remember, is less about food, and more about the spiritual discipline of gratitude. How does that impact our beliefs about the nature of God? The third slave in our parable from Matthew showed us one theory about God and its consequences. We have only to look at our first reading from Psalm 103 to get a different idea. How will we live if we worship a God worth blessing and giving thanks for?

The God described and blessed in Psalm 103 is a God of eternal mercy and love, who heals and redeems us, provides for us and renews our strength. God “does not deal with us according to our sins,” it says. In other words, we don’t need to fear, but even if we do, God isn’t going to treat us like that “master” treated the third slave. This truth isn’t just a matter of what we choose to believe. It’s the predominant good news that’s threaded all throughout scripture, from beginning to end. Sure, there are stories like the Parable of the Talents that present other theories, but they are not the main theme of the gospel. “Gospel”, remember, means “good news”. And it is. God loves us. God is merciful. God is generous and nurturing and kind. That is certainly something worth giving thanks for!

And what’s more, it’s something worth living thanks for! When we live our lives giving thanks to our God, who is loving and merciful and generous, the consequences show up in the world. Hungry people are fed. Lonely people are befriended. Hurting people are cared for. Children are cherished. The vulnerable are protected. Communities are strengthened. Nations seek peace. Creation is redeemed.

What we believe about God matters. What we proclaim about God with our lives makes a difference. So this day, in this season of Thanksgiving, let us proclaim a God worth giving and living thanks for! Let us abandon fear and trust in the gracious gifts God has given us. Let us use them for building up the realm of God’s shalom. Let us join with the writer of Psalm 103 and bless the Lord with all our hearts and souls. Alleluia and Amen!