Several weeks ago, while I was leading the adult Sunday School discussion in my church, a participant said a very interesting thing. We were in the midst of discussing Jesus' well-known "Parable of the Talents" found in Matthew's Gospel. Those of you familiar with this parable recall that three servants, each entrusted with money by their master who was leaving on adventures, did different things with what they were given. Two servants invested it without any prompts from their master; both doubled their wealth. The other servant, aware that his master reaped where he did not sow, took the one coin given him and buried it. In other words, the coin was not invested and he gained nothing.
The parable is powerful on a lot of levels. To me, everything hinges on the third servant's words:
'Master,' he said, 'I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.'
Of course, the master -- who only moments before praised the first two servants for their fine work -- rebukes this hapless fellow, casting him out into the darkness. But note that the master does not -- in word -- disagree with the servant's description. The master says:
'You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.'
But let me back up. The parable begins with the notice that the master gave to his servants "each according to his ability." Fascinating. For this suggests that the master knew his servants well, that two were more capable than the third. Does this play into the parable, then? Should we expect the third servant to fail?
Perhaps. But, in part, he did not fail. He returned the one talent he was given; it was not lost. Afraid to lose either the talent or what he would have earned in the investment, the third servant literally proved competent in his trustworthiness, particularly since the parable mentions nothing about the master's wishes. The master merely entrusts his wealth to these men. And not one coin was lost.
But the third servant is not rebuked because he buried his coin. He is rebuked because he does not know his master; and he is not really telling the truth. Moreover, he is unwilling to lose what he might have earned.
"I knew you reaped where you did not sow," says the servant. Well, if that is true, then he would have done exactly what the other servants did -- he would have sowed for his master so that his master could reap what was not his to reap. After all, it was the servants who invested, not the master. But the third servant did not invest. Why? Was it because he did not want to lose what he would have gained, essentially saying to his master, "Master, you take what is not rightly yours?" Indeed, that seems to be the case. Hence the servant lies; he is really saying that he did not want to lose what would have been his wealth. So, fearful of losing everything, he buries the coin, intent on showing his master that things were safe and secure.
But what does the master show, not say, in his dealings with the third servant? He shows that he is NOT someone who sows where he does not reap; in fact, he is the opposite. For we see that he not only lets his first two servants keep their profits, he lets them keep their original coins! And, to show his generosity, he takes the one coin given to the third servant and gives it to the wealthiest of the three! In other words, the coins were always going to be the servants' -- but only on the condition that they truly understood who the master was and why the coins were given.†
Hence, to sum up: Those servants who took risks were rewarded, discovering that there was no risk at all; and he who refused to take a risk, lost everything. But, and here's the rub: the servant who lost everything did so because his failure to take a risk was the result of his misunderstanding the nature of the gift he was given and the giver who gave it to him.
OK. Forgive the Bible lesson. What I set out here to discuss was something someone said during class to what I essentially wrote above. This person said this: There is no risk at all in the Christian life. To which I said, "Really? Wow!"
What do you think? Is there no risk at all in following Christ? This week in Sunday School I led the discussion on the "Parable of the Good Samaritan." I was quick to note that the Samaritan took several profound risks helping a wounded man who was the victim of robbers who ambushed him on a treacherous road. Is the Samaritan representative of the Christian life? Is there much for which we can commend him if he did not face any risk at all? Where is Christian bravery and courage if there is no risk?
Or did my interlocutor mean something else, namely that there is no ultimate risk in the Christian life? But is this true? Does this not assume that we already know that everything we do will be approved by God, will be honored and praised and accepted?
Let me ask this as well: Is the Christian life worth living if it is filled with certainty? Is there any life worth living that is NOT an adventure? Does not risk give us our drive for excellence? Do we not need difficulties and obstacles to enrich our lives? Where would we be without risk? Would life not be the dullest thing without it?
I wonder.
Peace.
BG
†Admittedly, there is much more to say on all this. It seems likely, too, that the servants would've kept their gifts if they DID something -- anything -- with them. Imagine if the third servant reported to the master, "Master, I bought a needy family some food and clothes with what you had given." Would the master have rebuked him?
©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.