Prop 26a.05 November 13, 2005
The thing you may not know,
but the original hearers of Jesus’s story knew very
well
is that there
was precise law on what to do
if someone entrusted
money to you.
In Jesus’ day, the one way to comply with the law
and be guaranteed
that you would not get in trouble
was to bury the
money in the ground.
But in our story, the master praises the wheeler dealers,
who flagrantly
violated Jewish values,
and condemns
the guy who followed the law,
played it safe,
stuck to the rules of the game, because, he said,
“I was afraid.”
The master says the servant could have at least used the
money
to make usurious
loans.
This story asks the same question posed by the poet, Mary
Oliver,
“Tell me,
what is it you plan to do
with your one
wild and precious life?”
Our life is not our own.
We didn’t design or create it. We aren’t even
in control of it.
Our life is something of a gift
– but more
like a temporary entrusting
because we don’t get
to keep it.
Eventually, we have to hand it back
like the servants
returning their master’s money.
What then shall we do with the time we have?
The conventional religious answer is usually a set of rules.
Do this. Don’t do that. Color inside the lines.
Most of the rules are about keeping our feelings and energies
from getting
out of hand.
Together, the rules amount to telling us
to bury our lives
in the ground.
If the question is “what will you do with your life?”
then Jesus’ parable runs opposite to the conventional
religious answer.
Tennyson’s poem “Ulysses” was inspired
by the example
of his friend,
Arthur Henry Hallam.
Hallam was a free thinker and an adventurous man
who fell in love
with the wrong women,
wrote the wrong
poems and essays,
at least in the opinion
of his father
who had them posthumously
burned.
He traveled to the wrong countries at the wrong times
– even
going to Spain for its first Civil War.
Hallam lived his life full tilt.
When he died, Tennyson wrote “Ulysses.”for him.
It’s about the old king of Ithaka long after his return
from the Trojan
war and how he refuses to settle down.
He resolves to leave Ithaka again and resume his wanderings.
The old king says,
“I cannot
rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees:
all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have
suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me,
and alone . . . .
How dull it is
to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished,
not to shine in use! . . .
Push off, . .
. ; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond
the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western
stars, until I die.”
Now perhaps you are wondering where is the religion in this?
It challenges people to live boldly and adventurously,
but what does
that have to do with Christian faith?
Well, maybe nothing.
But then again, what does today’s parable
have to do with
Christian faith?
Haven’t we been taught that Christianity is about
being good citizens
and family members,
friendly neighbors
and honest business people?
If those things are the essence of Christianity,
nobody ever told
Jesus.
He didn’t stay home and care for his family
the way he was
supposed to.
He tramped around Galilee, and partied enough
to earn himself
a reputation as a drunkard and a glutton.
He hung out with the wrong people
– hookers
and Roman collaborators.
He had unacceptable conversations
with a woman
at Jacob’s well and another
who bathed his
feet quite inappropriately in a Pharisee’s house.
Jesus’s teachings were clearly irresponsible.
“Look at the birds of the air . . . . Consider the
lilies . . . .
Do not be anxious
about tomorrow,
for tomorrow
will be anxious for itself . . . .
Do not store
up treasure for yourself on earth . . . .”
And he said, “I have come that you might have life
and that you
might have it more abundantly.”
The Gospels show Jesus as a man on fire with life
– wild,
reckless, daring life.
We may have read these texts so often through the lens
of our conventional
religious assumptions that we can’t see
what Jesus is like here.
New Testament scholar Albert Schweitzer
always called
Jesus “that adamant young man.”
Edward Hays’ retelling of Jesus’ story in The
Gospel of Gabriel
shows him to
be a playful, wild, exuberant, dancing lover of life.
My point isn’t that we all have to buy motorcycles
and turn into
Jack Kerouac.
That would just replace one set of rules with another.
My point is that conventional religion amounts
to instructions
on how to bury our lives in the ground
to keep them safe and secure.
But the thrust of Jesus’ teachings in Matthew
is that Jesus
has no use for anything “safe and secure.”
Matthew’s whole Gospel is about a life of faith outside
the box
of conventional
wisdom, especially conventional religion.
Matthew tells us the story of a free man,
so that we can
get a glimpse of what freedom looks like
and maybe dare to try it ourselves.
The Gospels are the story of a free man, but not a narcissist.
“Having loved his own, he loved them to the end”
John says.
Jesus’s healing, teaching, and finally his death on
the cross
show his free
life wasn’t a selfish life.
He showed us that the full, rich, exuberant life
is precisely
the life lived for others.
So now we have to ask what the Gospels have to do with Christianity.
Saint Irenaeus tells us the answer.
“The glory of God is a human being fully alive.”
Jesus was the glory of God.
The servant who loses is the one who played it safe,
followed the
rules, buried his life in the ground.
And the master says, “you could at least have practiced
a little usury.”
Remember usury is a big time sin.
The story suggests a life with some sin
is better than
a timid, boring life, without gumption or daring.
Our parable means that life should be fueled by
passion for living,
not fear of judgement.
What are we afraid of? Death?
It’s going
to happen. No way out.
Judgement? It has already happened. Our Epistle lesson says
so.
And guess what. You’re in.
We can, indeed we must, roll the dice occasionally.
Real Christianity isn’t rules and social conventions
but passion and
courage, faith and daring.
The followers of Jesus follow him best
when they live
boldly and freely out of their own hearts
as he lived boldly and freely
out of his.
So, friends in Christ, “Tell me, what then do you
plan to do
with your one
wild and precious life?”
Amen.