Enemy of Apathy

Preached in Fitzwilliam College Chapel, Cambridge - 16th November 2008. 1 Thess 5 v1-11 and Matt 25 v14-30.

This story isn’t about money. Well, it is, it’s about a lot of money. One talent: that much gold today would be worth £500,000. But it’s not about the money. Because in today’s climate, this story would play out rather different.

A benevolent employer decides to put his workforce to the test. The first recipient sets up a hedge fund. The second puts the money into a high interest ISA with an Icelandic bank. The third gets cold feet and hides it under a floorboard at home.

The first loses the lot when Porsche buy out VW, meaning that his gamble that the share price would fall backfires spectacularly. The second sees his assets frozen by anti-terror laws when the bank goes into liquidation and is still waiting to see if he will get even a fraction of it back.

So, on the day of reckoning the third calmly hands back his share. The employer, shocked at the catastrophic actions of the others, is grateful simply to get back the original sum. The first two lose their jobs, their houses and all the trappings of their extravagant lifestyles. Because that is how human society works – the success of a venture is measured by its visible results. Failure, when it comes, is measured in finite terms, and is not tolerated.

Just like the first two servants, the first two here took the risk and put the money to work. Unlike the first two servants, the gamble did not pay off. When it comes to the crunch, money isn’t something you can rely on.

In fact, human beings aren’t particularly reliable either; irrational, unpredictable creatures, illustrated by the differing reactions of the three recipients in the parable. But God, in his infinite wisdom, decides to go against every code of common sense that exists, and invest in humanity. True, we vary hugely in our gifts – some of us are entrusted with fewer talents than others; there are some people who can handle five talents; there are some who can handle only one. There are some persons who have great intellectual capabilities, and some who do not. There are some who have the ability to project and articulate their thoughts, and there are some who cannot. There are some who have physical prowess and attractive looks, and there are some who do not.

But it is important to recognise that not one of the servants was left idle. We cannot all be five-talent people: the pressure would be intolerable. Imagine being sentenced to an eternity of Apprentice-like competition, with bickering, backbiting and baying for attention from a divine Alan Sugar-esque character. But we are entrusted with gifts. We all are. And those two servants who were rewarded in today’s Gospel reading were not rewarded on account of the dividend they returned but on account of the effort they made; and that reward was perfectly equal in magnitude. The same is true of the servant who failed in the eyes of his master – it was not due to the lack of income that he was cursed, but due to the inaction on his part. ‘You wicked and lazy slave’ highlights the evils of sloth and inaction.

After communion we will pray with the words ‘send us out in the power of your spirit, to live and work to your praise and glory’. We cannot hope to even come close to that ideal without putting our talents to work, for the glory of God and God’s kingdom here on earth.

Because when the master does return, how else will we be able to justify the original investment in ourselves?

The reassuring thing about this lesson is that, unlike human justice, success is judged by activity rather than by result. Engaging, wrestling with issues, misguided ventures and exploration are all preferable to inaction. We are sentient, reasoning beings – that in itself is a gift, which we ignore at our peril. And we are given the freedom to explore. By ‘reaping where he has not sown’, the master gives grain that has arrived at being grain by other means, or is exploring what it is to be grain, or is grain that calls itself grass, or indeed is grass that calls itself grain – the chance to be part of the harvest.

By ‘reaping where he has not sown’ the master dismisses the idea of there being an elected, pre-ordained harvest, in favour of taking the chance – that the extra work will reap dividends.

When will this take place? Well Paul gives us the wonderful image of the thief in the night – an unannounced and surprising coming. In the meantime we shuffle along our mortal plane, with the commission to put our gifts to work, but safe in the knowledge that at the end of days, God – our creator, redeemer and sustainer but apparently unorthodox farmer, will leave the flock to search us out, and reap outside the field, that we might spend eternity, worshipping with the saints – children of the light.

AMEN.