Sermon, Sunday, 11 October 2009

Mark 10:17-31

Princess Diana is quoted as saying, “They say it is better to be poor and happy than rich and miserable, but how about a compromise like moderately rich and just moody?”  I think that explains a lot about today’s gospel reading from Mark.

It’s so hard for us to give up possessions, isn’t it?  Even for the tradeoff to be poor and happy; or the bigger tradeoff to get into heaven.  This gospel lesson makes me uncomfortable.  Because even though I have never considered myself rich, even moderately so, in comparison to much of the world, I am so much more like the rich man turning away in grief than I am anyone else in this story.

Our possessions, our wealth, brings us happiness and security.  We surround ourselves with things in our quest for joy not realizing at times that those very things are what prevent joy from embracing us.  With our fortresses of material possessions and financial security, we can scarcely move at times, stifling any attempts we may make to follow Jesus on the journey that was referred to at the beginning of the passage from Mark.

So we, like the man in the reading, throw ourselves at Jesus’ feet hoping for an easy answer.  I really don’t think that man was looking for an easy compliment in doing that.  I believe he, like us, truly wanted to know what else he needed to do to get into heaven.  He was a good man and Jesus knew that.  A touching, poignant portion of the passage is when Jesus looked at him and loved him.  It’s one of the most direct statements about Jesus in scripture.  He looked at him and loved him. 

Jesus saw and knew what was going on.  In spite of that man’s grief Jesus loved him to death, literally.  Because he was calling on that man to give everything away.  And notice that Jesus didn’t say sell everything and give the proceeds to me so that I can continue my ministry.  No, indeed, the money that the man would realize were he to sell his possessions was to go to the poor.  And then he could come and follow Jesus.

Unlike Princess Diana, Jesus doesn’t really allow for compromises.  There’s no gray area when it comes to giving.  It’s all or nothing.

In the movie “Brother Sun, Sister Moon,” which tells the story of a certain man named Francis who lived in Assisi some 800 years ago, there is a pivotal scene in which Francis, born into a wealthy cloth merchant family, renounces his wealth by stripping off his clothes in the town square and heading off into the mountains to begin a life of poverty and service.  Francis did what the rich man in the gospel seemingly could not do.  And what most of us seemingly cannot do.

But….but I have to wonder.  The gospel writer Mark leaves the end of this particular story open with a question mark, I think.  Yes it said the rich man went away grieving, but it doesn’t actually say whether the man did do as Jesus said or not.  Certainly we can allow him his grief, in giving up all that he possesses.  That’s a mighty task and even as unrich as I am, if asked to do the same thing, I would grieve too. 

But I keep coming back in my thoughts to that simple statement that Jesus looked at the man and loved him.  And that gives me the strength to guess at an answer to that question mark at the end of the story.  Because a love that strong is mighty powerful and can cause you to do all sorts of things you wouldn’t do otherwise.

Not too long from now, we’ll regroup ourselves for one of our monthly conversations and this time our conversation is going to revolve around stewardship.  Stewardship, meaning what we do with the resources that are put in our charge; our wealth, in other words.

But don’t limit yourselves when you think about your wealth; it’s not just about money or what your bank statements look like.  Because true wealth goes deeper than money.  True wealth, as we all know, involves family and friends and faith.  True wealth is about the talents we possess and the abilities we have innately within us.

Perhaps that’s the part of the rich man that Jesus loved--his abilities and talents for following the law and for leading an upright life.  Jesus knew that if the man was going to follow him on the journey before him, he couldn’t be encumbered by the possessions that held him down.  Jesus wanted his full wealth...his real wealth on the road with him.

So when you think of stewardship this afternoon, don’t leave here grieving.  Go away with joy, grateful for the resources, all the resources, that are in your care.

16 November 2008

Matthew 25:14-30

The twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew is unrelenting. If you’ve got one of those bibles that prints Jesus’ words in red (which of course is how he spoke; in red), the entire chapter, all forty verses, is in red. It’s all Jesus, all the time.

This chapter is divided into three sections. We heard the first section last week. If you remember, that was about the wise and foolish bridesmaids or virgins, some of whom didn’t have enough oil for their lamps and are then locked out of the wedding feast due to their lack of prudence. You might recall, if you were here or read my sermon online, that I said that that parable was about the endtimes; about the waiting of the church, especially the early Christian church in the later decades of the first century. They were expecting Jesus back and a good follower of The Way needed to be prepared.

The middle section is what we heard today. It too is a parable that speaks of the endtimes and how the faithful (or unfaithful) will be treated when that moment arrives. And just as last week’s parable was not an etiquette guide for those going to weddings in the ancient Near East, neither is today’s reading going to be helpful to anyone who seeks to understand economics (and I understand that there are actually people who do understand economics). This story from Jesus is not about how to invest and I doubt if it will help anyone out in the current fiscal, um, shall we say, ‘unpleasantness’ in which we find ourselves.

I suppose you’re wondering about the final third of this chapter. Well, it’s the lectionary reading for next week. I don’t want to give anything away therefore so you’ll just have to return to find out what’s next. I will say though that the relentlessness continues and again, no one is let off the hook.

No, if you are looking for the easy-way faith, don’t expect to find it in Matthew twenty-five. It’s not for the faint of heart really. I should think that any new converts to the faith, if they read this chapter right off, would turn on their heels and run, if they knew what was good for them and if they really understood what was going on in these verses.

You can’t really blame Jesus though. Chapter 26, the very next words after all this chapter, begins with Jesus telling the disciples that he’s going to be crucified when they get to the observance of Passover in two days. He’s got a lot on his mind, I would guess, and the thick density of his disciples and followers may have been utmost; and by thick density, I’m not saying that they were crowded together into a small room, if you catch my drift. They’ve been shown as needing way too much explanation…they were a little slow at times in the uptake.

Jesus needed to pack plenty in his teachings in these his last days with them and knew it. So he hit them hard with the cold hard facts of faith, unsettling as it might have been. And of course Matthew knew his audience too. He includes these parables because this need to grasp the difficult parts of faith was paramount in the minds of the original audience of his gospel.


So…we have these three servants…or slaves as they are called in the translation we heard. One is extremely trustworthy and is given five talents. Another is a little less dependable it seems, at least in his master’s eyes, and is given two talents. And then there’s the third one who’s barely trusted and is given the least amount of all: only one talent.

I read one translation of this passage in which the translator changed the amounts to $5,000, $2,000 & $1,000 but I don’t think that does it justice. For one thing, it takes away from us our imagination of just how much we’re talking about here. Evidently, this parable is referring to ridiculously large sums of money. No master is going to trust any slave with these amounts…no matter how trustworthy and reliable. It’s a ludicrous story to begin with, with preposterous amounts of money involved. But that’s exactly Jesus’ point and we lose that sense if we assign too small a value to what we’re talking about here. God’s grace and care and love for us are also ludicrously out of proportion to our own dependability and soundness. We, mere slaves as it were in the ongoing history of faith and the realm of God, are entrusted with enormous, massive amounts of talents ourselves by God. They’re just given to us, handed over, undeservedly and unconditionally.

That, in and of itself, is a pretty good sermon to hear and I could stop right here right now and hope that you go away a little more convinced of God’s grace and that you are a beloved child of God. That’s not a bad message to get for most of us. And if you’ve ever dealt with the more rigid faith proclamations from pulpits across Christianity that repeatedly remind you and everyone else just how worthless you and we are, then this is a good message to take away.

But, alas, there is more. And if we stop here, feeling all warm inside about ourselves, well then we don’t quite get the whole of it. So hold onto those warm feelings and remember that indeed you are loved; loved enormously, stupendously, beyond all reasonable expectations by God.

But let’s turn back to our parable for this morning. The master, this spendthrift, beneficent master, goes away. We don’t know why, we don’t know where but we do know it was for a long time. And in this absence these three slaves treat their talents differently. The first two trade and invest and are able to not only increase but double the amounts they were given. The third one though just buries his; he puts it in a safe place. He doesn’t want the responsibility or the work involved in doing what the other two are out doing.

We all know what happens next. The master returns and asks for an accounting of the money. The first two bring the original amounts that they were given (I guess we would call that the principal today) as well as the amounts that they got in return for their efforts. And they are handsomely rewarded as they are invited into the joy of the master. But our third slave…well, this third slave digs up the one talent that had been buried and returns it, and essentially tells the master that he’s not all that easy to deal with in the first place and here’s the money back but nothing more.

The master is outraged…infuriated…livid. From a theatrical point of view, I actually think he overplays this scene. “What’s the fuss?” I want to interject, “you got your money back. It wasn’t frittered away or spent on cheap booze, easy sex, or even the latest electronic gadgets. Relax, would ya?” Of course, part of that is my discomfort with conflict and my desire to help the underdog, but there’s 21st century therapy for that sort of thing.

But the master reacts as he will, as all masters and mistresses do, and takes the one lousy talent, gives it to the slave who originally had five and then orders that this third slave be thrown out; out into the outer darkness. There’s wailing there and there’s gnashing of teeth; it’s not a pretty place to be.


So, how’s that warm feeling inside you doing now? Has it chilled a little perhaps? I know mine has; it does everytime I hear this parable, from when I first remember hearing it in Sunday School in the basement of that rural Methodist church until this very day.

Then, back in the Orange Methodist Church Sunday School, a rather young Gerry Brague heard this story and felt badly for the third slave, thinking the master had done a great injustice to my new friend, this third slave. I didn’t get the fact then that parables meant more than they are. I wasn’t always perceptive of the line between fact and fiction (I thought cartoon characters were real people for quite a long time) and wasn’t very aware of the moral-to-a-story device.

Of course now I have a degree after my name; letters with periods. So I not only am able allegedly to dig deeper into the story but I get to stand here and expound on it, theologically of course. But frankly, I don’t feel much better, even with those letters and periods following my name and that young Gerry Brague’s reaction is not far off from this supposedly scripturally-astute one. Because if in fact the master is sitting in for God in the parable, I look at the rest of the story and at myself and find way too many similarities between me and that third slave than I do with the other two slaves and there goes that warm feeling.

I am much too quick to take whatever God has given me and hide it all away, thinking it’s mine to do with as I please and not an investment on which God expects, no, on which God demands a return. I am digging holes all over the place secreting away riches galore. Sure, I’ll return them, pretty much untouched and unused, some may even still be in their protective wrapping, but then it will be too late. Then I’ll find out that there was supposed to be more that I brought back; more than the original amount; more than what God gave me to begin with.

And if you think now that that warm feeling has dropped a goodly number of degrees, Fahrenheit or Celsius, just think what will happen to it in the cold, outer darkness. Brrrrr. It sounds worse than North Dakota in February and we all know how I feel about northern winters.

And so, like Ebenezer Scrooge, who awakes Christmas morning crying out something along the lines of “did I miss it, did I miss it?” I look around me and realize that I’m still here on this earth and I can dig up whatever has been given to me and that I’ve hidden and I can begin to use them and make them multiply, right here, right now.

If you’ve been hiding, squirreling away, veiling, burying, covering, or concealing the gifts, talents, and resources that God has given to you and continues to imbue in you, then I urge you to think about these final lessons from Jesus’ time on earth. And bring them out so that you’ll see a vast increase in your, no, in God’s investment.