Don’t be afraid: your talents and abilities are needed and you are eternally loved.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 33 A
Texts: Matthew 25:14-30

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

So the third slave turned out to be right.

When given a share of money to care for in the master’s absence, he buried it. Because he was afraid. Afraid, as he said, that his master was a harsh man, and would take any profit from whatever hard work the slave put in.

But he had no idea how harsh. He didn’t commit any crime. He gave back every penny he received, in full. And the master threw him into the “outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

It’s a terrible story. And somehow you and I are supposed to learn something about God’s reign.

Can we make any sense of what Jesus is saying?

We could see it from a perspective that doesn’t make the returning master a stand in for the Son of God. There are interpretations from impoverished people that see Jesus as the third slave who refuses to go along with the capitalist oppressor.

But the context makes that hard to claim. Matthew 24 is a long discourse on the surprising, unexpected, and inevitable coming of the Son-of-Man at the end of time, ending with a parable about faithful slaves who are ready for their master’s return. These next three parables in chapter 25, with a bridegroom, a master, and a king, are told in that context, assuming they’re Christ. Let’s proceed with that assumption.

Some suggest Matthew added the judgment parts to these parables, that Jesus doesn’t act on them after Easter because he never said them. But there’s no way to prove that. No one recorded Jesus. So Jesus could have said these parables in their entirety, including judgment. Which means something happened that changed Jesus’ mind, that is, changed the mind of the Triune God. So, let’s proceed with that assumption, too.

And there is precedent for this in Scripture.

There are plenty of places in the Hebrew Bible where God is angry and wants to punish God’s people and decides not to. The best known is when God, in the wilderness, tells Moses the people of Israel have disobeyed too often and will be destroyed. Moses will become the new Abraham, the father of a new people. Moses tells God that would be a bad look, to take your people into the desert and kill them. And God relents.

So it’s possible that Jesus, as he got closer and closer to the danger against him, was angry and frustrated at his disciples’ mistakes, and maybe even their unwillingness to serve. The letter to the Hebrews says Jesus was tested exactly as we are, that’s how he is able to help us. Jesus could have considered punishing the unfaithful. We certainly would.

If that’s so, then Jesus did change his mind. We’ve been looking at these parables with an Easter lens, understanding them from the perspective of the risen Christ, who doesn’t act on these judgments. But there’s another point of view to consider, a different set of lenses, that could enlighten us as to what happened.

Go to the Mount of Olives, to a garden called Gethsemane.

Jesus, the Son of God, God-with-us, praying while his followers lie asleep, makes a critical decision. It wasn’t a foregone thing that he would choose what he called “the cup” before him. That is, to allow himself to be captured, tortured, and killed.

There is much mystery here for us. This conversation happens within the life of the Triune God, between Jesus the Son and the One he called Father, so this is fully a God decision to make. It was anguished, it was hard. But in the end, Jesus chooses a path. In the language of this parable, Jesus decides “I will go myself into the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. I won’t send anyone there. I will bear the eternal love of God with which I created all things and let them kill me on the cross, and it will destroy all outer darkness, all hate, all evil, at its core.”

In the end the Son of God chooses to go the place of pain and suffering and death to transform the world. To open the reign of God by the love of God taking on all evil and breaking it.

So you can trust Christ with your life now and forever.

And this parable becomes like the others: a simple invitation to those whom Christ loves to follow. To live in God’s reign and continue bearing the love of the Triune God into all the places of pain and suffering and death.

To use your talents you’ve been given, your gifts, your wealth, your abilities, to make a difference in the world. This story is nothing more for you, no threats, no fear. Just a call to use your gifts that you’ve been given to be Christ in the world, and not bury them.

That includes your wealth. Today we’re pledging to each other what we will share for the ministry we’re doing together here at Mount Olive in 2024. We’re not pledging to the Vestry, or to the congregation as an institution. We’re saying to each other, “here’s what I will share so we can be Christ here, together.”

And it’s more than wealth. Talents were a unit of currency, but for us they are also gifts and abilities, and we also gladly share them.

There’s one more lovely thing.

This parable is one of Jesus’ patented hyperboles. One talent was about $500,000 of our money. So the first one got $2.5 million dollars to use. Jesus’ hearers couldn’t have imagined anyone with that wealth. Could you imagine being given a half a million dollars to care for and use for good? And that’s just one talent.

So if you think your talents, abilities, wealth, gifts, are far less valuable than others, listen again. You’re sitting on a fortune. You are central and critical to God’s work in this world. You might be the one person in the right place at the right time who makes a world changing difference to another person, or even beyond, as we share our ministry. And that’s priceless to God.

Don’t be afraid.

There is no outer darkness, no weeping and gnashing of teeth. That decision was made in Gethsemane. Christ Jesus has ended that threat forever. You are safe in the love of the Triune God now and always.

So what will you do with your talents, your wealth, your gifts, when you live unafraid?

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

What if you lived your life as if you trusted that you were absolutely, indisputably, unquestionably safe in the love of the Triune God, now and forever, no matter what?

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 32 A
Texts: Matthew 25:1-13; Amos 5:18-24

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Are people of faith at their core really just living a rewards game?

There are plenty of people today who don’t believe in a god of any kind who say that those of us who do are solely motivated by the reward of heaven or fear of hell. These critics will often say, “I don’t need a fear of some god to motivate me to do good to my neighbor, to be decent. It’s just the right way to be. You all seem to be in a faith only for the reward.”

And if you look at most of Christian proclamation over the past centuries, these critics have a point. We’ve been selling this rewards game for a long time.

Even we Lutherans. We’re supposed to believe we’re saved by God’s grace alone. But when we read parables like today’s, our grace theology collapses like a cheap card table, and we get right to moralizing, threatening punishment.

But what if you trusted that you were absolutely, indisputably, unquestionably safe in the love of the Triune God now and forever, no matter what? What would you do with your life, then?

These parables are hard, no question.

Chapters 24 and 25 of Matthew are filled with threatening stories about the end of time, with some welcomed into a new reality and others shut out. They all seem to motivate by threats and fear.

In the Gospels, Jesus’ proclamation of God’s reign is much more heavily about the here and now, the life we live in this world, than the end times. But these parables, which Matthew places during Holy Week, are pretty clearly in the context of those end times.

So why you shouldn’t be afraid? Why shouldn’t you hear today’s parable and all its friends as they seem to be saying: straighten up and fly right or the door is slammed in your face and God will say, “I don’t even know you.”

You can fairly ask, “why would I trust that I am absolutely, indisputably, unquestionably safe in the love of the Triune God now and forever, no matter what?

But hear these parables as if you’re part of the group of original disciples.

By now over 100 people, women and men, were disciples of Jesus, and Jesus spoke these parables to them, the ones already part of Jesus’ community. If you hear today’s parable as they did, for the first time, one thing is clear. This really is a minor failing. The “foolish” didn’t expect to need extra oil, and they get shut out from the celebration at the end of time? That seems an overreaction.

And if these parables were told in the few days before Good Friday, what these disciples did next makes forgetting a little oil seem even more silly to worry about. Most of them fell apart. Ran away in terror and abandoned Jesus. Denied Jesus with curses. Betrayed Jesus to his enemies. Except for the women disciples and John, most failed Jesus miserably.

So meeting the risen Christ while remembering these parables, must have been terrifying. This is when the door gets slammed in our face, they must have thought. This is when Jesus says, “I don’t even know you.” This is when he rejects all his unfaithful disciples, keeps the women and John, and goes out looking for better disciples.

But that didn’t happen.

There was no door slam or exclusion. They locked themselves behind a door, but the risen Jesus came right through it. And said, “Oh, there you all are. Be at peace. I’m sending you out with the Spirit of God in you, to share my love.”

And Christ didn’t say to any of them, “I don’t know you.” He knew them deeply and well. What they did that weekend wasn’t a surprise. Christ knew their flaws and weaknesses and failings, and loved them. And Christ knew their value, too. Christ knew he needed Peter, warts and all. Knew that all of them were necessary for God’s grace and love to get to the whole world.

No one got thrown aside or shut out. Instead, they all heard, “do you love me? Then feed my lambs.”

So again, what if you trusted that you were absolutely, indisputably, unquestionably safe in the love of the Triune God now and forever, no matter what?

How would you live your life? What would motivate you? If your place in the reign of God after death is safe, what does this story tell you about living here?

Surely there’s only one possibility that blesses everyone: share the oil. If all ten run out, who cares? They all fell asleep anyway, and had to be wakened for the party. What if they trusted the love of the bride and bridegroom and everyone laughed – the late bridegroom apologizing for tardiness, the shadowy bridesmaids apologizing for unlit lamps – and all went into the party?

I’m often foolish, by the standards of this parable. Plenty of times I didn’t anticipate something would be needed for me to do. Sometimes I prepare ahead, I’m “wise,” according to this. But I’ve got enough blind spots to feel more solidly in the foolish camp. And I want to be in the party of God’s reign that’s happening here. Doesn’t everyone?

Wouldn’t this have been a better wedding if the oil was shared and people trusted in each other’s love?

You can live in fear of the slammed door, of not being recognized, if you want.

Amos gives you plenty to be afraid of – the end times come, and it’s like being bitten by a snake or eaten by a bear. But fear and threats can’t change your heart. They won’t help you do justice, or show mercy, or love God and love your neighbor.

And you don’t need to be afraid. The actions of Christ after Easter tell you all you need to know to live in God’s reign right now, in joy and hope. Why tremble at the door waiting for it to slam when God’s already propped it open? Why worry about being excluded when the Risen Christ says, “I know you, I love you, and I need you?

What if your motivation to bring enough oil and to help others who forget to bring enough is so all can be at the party, right now? A party that includes all God’s children, with abundant food, good shelter, clothing, well-being, life and hope: this is the reign of God Christ Jesus wants so much to see here.

So what if you lived your whole life as if you trusted that you were absolutely, indisputably, unquestionably safe in the love of the Triune God now and forever, no matter what?

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen