Proper 28, Year A
November 17, 2002
Christ Church, Covington

“For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away” (Matt. 25:29).

Our Gospel this morning gives us one of the classic stewardship texts: a story of a master who departs for another country, but not before he gives his three servants gifts of money (units called “talents”) to care for while he is away. To each he gives a different number of talents, according to the ability of each. When he returns, the three servants return to the master what they have been given, along with what they have made with the talents; except, that is, the third servant, who returns to the master the single talent he was given, with nothing else beside. Fear of losing the talent has paralyzed this servant; fear of punishment has made him bury the talent for safekeeping. In the surprising upshot of the story, it is this fearful servant who is punished for bringing nothing else with him. Thus, in a verse left out of our Gospel, “Cast the worthless slave into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matt. 25:30).

As a classic stewardship text, this Gospel is usually glossed as an example of how we are meant to put the gifts God has given us to good use in the service of the kingdom. God is the master, and we are the servants; stewards, if you will, who have been given gifts in trust. “Talents”, of course, in addition to being an ancient unit of measurement, coincidentally also evokes the talents that God has given us to build up the kingdom. As far as it goes, a classic text for stewardship, reminding us of the many gifts which we have been given, and the blessing that follows when we put them to work.

But there is even more here, and it is here that the emphasis of this Gospel reading really falls. The neglected element in the familiar gloss is revealed by the servant who has done nothing with the talent, not even leant it out at interest. He is an “worthless slave” who brings nothing to his master on his return.

By contrasting the fearful servant with the able servants who are given multiple talents and who are willing to risk them, the Gospel reminds us that discipleship is by definition “risky business”. Being a good steward means taking risks in the service of the kingdom: prudent, measured, even calculated ones, but still (after all is said and done) neither easy nor pre-determined in their result. In other words, risks. This doesn’t come naturally to most of us. Nevertheless, disciples of Jesus Christ are engaged in a great venture, a great venture of faith, in which much is hazarded. We’re not encouraged to “play it safe”, or to expect that we can bury the gift we were given in some “sure thing”, by the Master who ventured all by traveling to Jerusalem.

We’re meant to stretch ourselves, like the able servants in the parable, in using the gifts for ministry that we have been given. There’s no indication in the story that they weren’t venturing anything by putting their resources to work. Instead, they are congratulated for their trustworthiness, even when much was demanded of them. The easy thing, the safe bet, is to do nothing with what we’ve been given. But this is exactly what we are not allowed to do as disciples.

This encouragement to venture forth, to be good stewards through some prudent risk-taking, is true for individuals and communities. On the individual level, each of us responds to the call of God to be good stewards and disciples of the Master, through stretching ourselves with God’s help out of the “comfort zone” where we like to live. I know that many of you are engaged in ministries that you were not sure you could really do before, and which represent a challenge. At home, at work, and in every area of life, we are constantly venturing forth in tasks we aren’t sure we can do. That’s risk-taking, being a good steward, and the rewards are great. I know this to be true in my own case. For me, the discovery of my ministry here in this place, at home and in my work, was to attempt with God’s help to do tasks which I was sure couldn’t be done by me. That, for me, was “good news”.

This encouragement to venture forth is also true for communities, even communities of faith. Christ Church, Covington, is a great Christian community; not the kingdom of God, of course, but a community on a journey, which is where we ought to be. As stewards and disciples, we’ve been willing to undertake some challenges over the past thirty years or so (some of them pretty monumental), to venture forth and to hazard ourselves in a great mission. No one can say that Christ Church has stood still. We could have buried our talent in the earth, done nothing and played it safe. I’m glad this community of faith didn’t do that. We are fortunate to be where we are as a community, at this point in the journey, embracing the continuing challenge and willing to venture our all in the life of faith.

The Rev’d John Bauerschmidt is Rector of Christ Church, Covington.

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