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What Are We Waiting For?
Sermon by Catherine W. FitzGerald March 26, 2006, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Isaiah 61:1-7 Matthew 25:14-30
With the start of the Red Sox season still a few weeks away, I was happy this past week to accept an invitation to attend a stand-up comedy performance by successful comedian Margaret Cho. It was good to get out and devote a solid two hours to laughter, one of my other favorite pastimes. If you know me at all, you surely know how much I love to laugh…and I can find humor in just about anything. But as the evening progressed, I developed an uneasy feeling—I could not give myself over entirely to the comedy at hand. A sizeable chunk of Ms. Cho’s performance was spent criticizing Christians and what she sees as their hypocrisy: that Christians could identify with a loving Christ and yet be so unloving and so unaccepting to so much of the world. Much of what she said was funny—much of what she said held truth. Ms. Cho never said a bad word about Christ—it was we Christians she held in such low esteem. She supposed that if Jesus were to come to earth today, he’d hang his head and say, “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!!” I think I understood her frustration and it made for decent comedy as far as comedy goes—but a deep sadness also arose in me. Is this who we are to our neighbors? Hypocritical? Judgmental? Narrow-minded? Un-Christ-like? The words of Margaret Cho’s Jesus have played over many times in my head since then. I believe they reflect, in part, the sentiment of our parable today. For it echoes the reaction of the master whose disappointment and judgment fall upon the third servant. “That’s not what I meant!” A man going on a journey, summons his slaves and entrusts his property to them—to one he gives five talents, to another two, and one talent to the third—each according to his ability. In Matthew’s time, a talent was the equivalent of 6,000 denarii. A day laborer would have to work 60 million days to repay such a debt (that’s over 164,000 years!). The entrusting of talents to the slaves within this story seems quite remarkable given their worth, and certainly shows a great trust in the slaves. The first two servants double their original sums—risking what they have to make more for their master. The third servant, who received one talent, went off and dug a hole in the ground to ensure the safety of his master’s money. This was a common practice of the time—it ensured that the money would not be lost or stolen. The law promised that if one buried money immediately upon receipt, one was absolved of liability if it were stolen. So, it is understandable that given such a large sum, the servant would want to protect it. The master returns and rewards the two slaves who’ve increased his money—but deals harshly with the third, saying he will be cast out into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. I suppose the burial of the money may have been understandable, but it was certainly not acceptable to the master. This parable is part of what is known as Matthew’s apocalyptic discourse, which occurs in the 24th and 25th chapters of Matthew’s gospel. The master who returns with both reward and judgment represents Christ’s return at the end of time. Apocalyptic discourses are thought to “disclose divine secrets concerning God’s plan for the [end] of history and the final judgment. Their intended function is to strengthen believers to remain faithful in difficult times by dramatizing the hope that God will come and redeem his people,” explains biblical scholar Douglas Hare. However, these chapters are not solely concerned with understanding God’s final actions—they are primarily dedicated to discerning our involvement in the coming of the end times. As one author put it: “Where the judgment of God is concerned, the question is never how much I have been given, but what I have done with what I have.” Within the parable of the talents, we find that maintenance alone is not enough for God. As we wait, we must do something with what we have. When paired with the preceding parable of the bridesmaids, a picture of the kingdom of heaven becomes clearer. The kingdom of heaven “is not just the place where God lives, but is the sphere of God’s influence; it is found wherever and whenever God’s will is done,” writes Biblical scholar James L. Mays. If this is the case, then while we await Christ’s return the onus is, in part, on us to represent and to increase the kingdom of God. Just because we are waiting for the kingdom of God, as the servants await their master’s return, does not mean that waiting is an appropriate response in itself. On the contrary, we see that just as the slaves were expected to act toward their lord’s increase while he was away, we are expected to act toward our Lord’s increase as well. Our waiting should follow the will of God—should represent the message of Jesus Christ. It will necessarily encompass risk. The first two slaves had to risk what they were given in order to have a chance at its increase. This need for risk is not just a gospel reality—it is a human truth—nothing worth being gained is gained without risk. It’s a fundamental premise of Christianity—to risk life in order to gain life. We must die to our selves and take on new life in Christ. Bernard of Clairvaux, an eleventh century Christian monk, observed that people who do not progress in the spiritual life, will instead regress. They will not be static—for it is impossible. As Church History scholar David Steinmetz put it: “There is no standing still, no burying of capital allowed.” Luther understands the Christian life as always in motion. Steinmetz paraphrases: “Responsible discharge of my calling as a Christian and, more particularly, as an officer in the Christian church requires me to take risks for the Kingdom, risks I would rather avoid. There is no way around this danger, only a way through.” The risks will look somewhat different for each of us. For Abdul Rahman in Afghanistan, his self-identifying as a Christian has been an incredible risk in itself—one which has lead him to prison and continues to risk his life. Where we are…for most of us I would venture…coming to church on a Sunday is not risk in itself. I cannot tell you what risks we will need to take as individuals. What I can do is identify the reason we must take them. We must be willing to risk everything to be reconciled to Christ. If we love Chirst, as he loved us, we will take these risks. Philosopher Sören Kierkegaard, in his Works of Love, made this point clear. “We shall not…speak about one’s coming into debt by receiving love.” In other words, the idea is not that if you love me—I owe you something. “No, it is the one who loves who is in debt; because he is aware of being gripped by love, he perceives this as being in infinite debt. Remarkable! To give a person one’s love is, as has been said, certainly the highest a human being can give—and yet, precisely when he gives his love and precisely by giving it he comes into infinite debt. One can therefore say that this is the essential characteristic of love: that the lover by giving infinitely comes into—infinite debt.” If we proclaim ourselves lovers of Christ—lovers of the one by whom we were reconciled to God—then we will be in turn, in the infinite debt of love to him. In our confessional heritage, we understand Christ’s incarnation and the promise of Christ’s second coming as God’s act of reconciliation with creation. In turn, we are called to respond with similar reconciliation. This will be our act as the lover. We must show our love by being his reconciling body on this earth—not in thought, but in action. This is the action that results from our infinite debt in love to Christ Jesus. This will be his kingdom come. It is the crux of the greatest commandment—that we would love God and one another. Love of God and love of neighbor cannot be finite. It is limitless love. And every time we feel that we have in some way extended our love to someone in particular—we must be reminded that there are an infinite number of others to whom, out of love for Christ, we are in debt. It is not a new message. It is not difficult to understand. It is difficult to follow. It would be much easier to bury our treasure—to ensure its safekeeping. It is surely easier to keep our love among those whom we feel are deserving of it, than risk sharing it with our neighbors. But as Christians, we cannot choose our neighbors. This is perhaps the biggest stretch for us—and requires the most risk in love. We cannot protect our treasure by deciding who is and who is not deserving of the love we know in Jesus Christ. Simply put by Kierkegaard, “It is our duty to be in the debt of love to one another.” This parable shows us that God expects an active response from us—we do not passively await the coming of God’s kingdom. We are expected to further God’s kingdom on earth as we await its fulfillment in the Parousia. What are we waiting for? We must use what God has given us—both knowledge of God as revealed in Jesus Christ and individual gifts that help make us the body of Christ—to do Christ’s work on earth. We are to be the church, to witness to the world according to what God has made known to us. We are to be like the prophet Isaiah, who spoke to Zion of its deliverance and glorification. “The spirit of the Lord is upon me…he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners….” Has he not also sent us to do the same? Lovers, take heart, for our beloved Jesus Christ is with us by the power of the Holy Spirit to the end of the age, strengthening us each day so that we might carry out the reconciling work of Christ. For wherever and whenever we embody the love of Jesus Christ, gifting it freely to our neighbor, there is Jesus Christ among us—there is God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven…at least in part. Every act of discipleship—every act of love will involve risk. Every work of love will bear fruit—will help build up God’s kingdom. During this Lenten season, let us wait impatiently. Let us build up the kingdom both for and alongside Jesus Christ, so that upon his return he will know that we have loved him fully—that out of our infinite debt in love to him we have loved one another as he taught us. Thanks be to God. Amen. |