Saturday of the Twenty-first Week in Ordinary Time
A few important things have happened on September 2. World War II formally ended with the signing of the documents for Japan’s surrender in 1945. Keanu Reeves of The Matrix was born in 1964, “Woah.” Finally, my daughter, Hosanna, was born. As we celebrate her second birthday, she’s going to help us break open the Parable of the Talents.
At only two, Hosanna reminds me of something that I think exists in most, if not all, us. We love when someone entrusts us with something, but hate when someone forces something on us. Rephrased, we desire to be good at stewardship, but don’t desire to live out servitude. Paul, in his discourses on grace, infers that God desires us to be stewards entrusted with the Father’s grace and mission, not workers collecting our wages. The gospels put this human condition on display at least twice, the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Good Father/Jerk-face Brother) and the Parable of the Talents. And of course, my two-year-old illustrates this well by doing ‘helper’ jobs with a determination that is only surpassed by her tenacity to resist direct commands. She desires stewardship, not servitude.
In the Parable of the Talents, this juxtaposition seems to have its origin in how the servants perceive the master. They were each given an absurd amount of money, as one talent is roughly fifteen years wages. They were given the amount “each according to his ability.” However, the first two servants trusted the master and the third did not. The master rewards them for their ‘faithfulness’. For their trust in him and their trustworthiness. However, the third servant is clear that he doesn’t trust the master at all, and nor was he trustworthy with his master’s wealth. He did not safeguard it; he buried it. He didn’t see himself as a steward entrusted but as one forced to do what his master wouldn’t. Like my daughter throwing a toy on the ground after being told to put it away, he buried the coin.
Another interpretation is that his distrust originates in resentment. He saw the amounts given to the others and took offense at how little he was given. This too translates to our family. Just yesterday, my son was surly that I gave a job to Hosanna and not him. Regardless of why the servant lost his trust, I want us to focus on the words of distrust he utters.
Unlike his predecessors, the third servant does not start by returning the master’s money, but starts with these words, “Master, I knew you were a demanding person, harvesting where you did not plant and gathering where you did not scatter; so out of fear I went off and buried your talent in the ground. Here it is back.” The Master repeats the words back to him, not as a confirmation of their truthfulness, but to show the inconsistency between the servant’s excuse and his actual actions. For surely, the man who gives you fifteen years wages to invest while he’s gone can hardly be accused of never sowing. The master seems to be poking a hole in the servants opening line, as if proving that he was wrong to believe he could dupe the master.
But what about us? Do we allow lies about God to allow us to become neglectful of our spiritual lives? Do we recognize that all of God’s expectations also come with his grace to help us fulfill them? Do we resent God when he seems to entrust others with more than us? Do we see God as calling us to stewardship and in turn that God trusts us with his gifts? Or do we believe God has called us to menial servitude?
- Spencer Hargadon