9/25/55

Scripture: Matthew 25: 14-29

Text: Matthew 25: 15; "And unto one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one."

Jesus was at great concern to teach his disciples about the kingdom of heaven. An interesting thing about his teaching is that he did not describe it so much as a place in space, he described it as a place in the spirit, or experience, of people. He told story after story, parable after parable, about the kingdom of heaven. And most of these parables turned a searchlight on some attitude of life, some characteristic of spirit. The kingdom of heaven is "like" -- and then he told the story of the ten virgins, some of whom were, and some of whom were not, prepared for the bridegroom’s marriage party. [Matthew 25: 1-13]. Or it is "like" the king who had a feast ready -- and the invited guests wouldn’t come. So people came in off the highways. [Matthew 22: 2-10]. Or it is to be sought like a housewife’s lost coin.

In the incident related in today’s Scripture lesson, Jesus likens the kingdom of heaven to a man’s stewardship of talents. And he tells the story of a ruler, a king, a man of means, going to a distant country and leaving his property in the hands of three men who served him. To the one, whom he considered most capable and dependable, he gave 5 talents, or more than half of the property; to another good man he entrusted 2 talents. To a third he committed the care of 1 talent. All were accounted trustworthy servants. And each was to administer the property as he judged best.

Of course Jesus was using the "talent," a unit of property, to illustrate a great deal more about life - its opportunities, its capacities, its faiths as well as its fears. He was the Master of life -- thrilled with its possibilities, sobered by its perils, sure of its eternal meaning.

"What are you doing with life?" This is the question with which Jesus searched the souls of his hearers.

And Jesus was not talking then about life in the extraordinary -- its great moments, its unusual opportunities, its special rewards. He was talking about life in the ordinary, where most of us live it all the time, and all of us live it most of the time.

Of course Jesus did speak, on occasion, about privileged people and their responsibilities. And his remarks were as keen as a rapier when he did so. But on this occasion he is speaking of the rank and file person -- the common man who is characterized by no particular genius, and no marked endowment. Not the one who mounts with wings as eagles, but the fellow who walks in the dusty paths, is the subject of this discourse.

The men of five talents and of two talents are mentioned, it is true. They are suggested as men of character. But they are drawn in the picture with only a few bold, suggestive background strokes. Jesus elaborated on the one-talent fellow, giving him the center of the stage.

There this average man is sketched in the presence of the king of his life. In this particular picture the fellow plays a tragic part, because of the way he had chosen to meet his opportunity.

Jesus had much to say, in his ministry, about the gifted, about the wealthy, about the privileged folk, and the responsibilities that go with these larger talents. He also had much to say about the mercy and hope for the underprivileged, and for all who were overwhelmed by life’s circumstances.

But some of his sharpest warnings were for the average sort of man, the commoner, the one who makes up the majority of folk. About this message, our thoughts are gathered today.

It seems like a hard saying -- this story of the one-talent man, who was finally deprived of what little he did have to administer and was banished to darkness and exile. At least so it seems, until one dwells on Jesus’ meaning.

Then one sees that the Master was pointing to some of the perils that are woven into the texture of life. He refers to the inevitable punishment of the careless person and the visionless person. Those whom Jesus here condemns are the folk who say in their hearts, "I have so little that it is not worth really using. I can’t do much; so why do anything? Since I am not a leader, I need not be a faithful follower."

All of us ordinary folk need to remember that life is a collective undertaking in which the efforts of many must be woven together toward any successful undertaking. The faithfulness of the many is quite as essential as the genius of the few. Unless the common folk stir up the gift of appreciation, there is little chance for the genius to come forth with great music, or fine literature or excellent machinery, or astute political decisions, or inspiring architecture.

The music of the great composers is not alone an expression of individual creativeness. It is an attempt to satisfy the undefined longings of a multitude of people. An architect may dream up a great cathedral. But he is helpless if it be not wanted, or if other men do not make themselves available to lay the stones truly, and mix the mortar well. The poet’s most inspiring verse lies unknown on a sheet of paper in his desk unless the entire printing crew is faithful each to his own task.

1) It is a great danger in our democracy that we shall lack, at critical times in history, great leaders. It is equally a danger that the rank and file of us citizens may fail to have vision and real earnestness about our citizenship. It is the carelessness, the frivolity, the shallow self-interest of us who make up the multitude, that threatens our institutions.

One vote counts so little. Why bother with the time and attention to cast it? I can’t change corruption or inefficiency in national, or state, or even local politics. So why bother about matters in my precinct?

My ideals and convictions are different from those that seem to prevail in the crowd. So maybe I’m in error, and had better just go along. Thus we bury our talents in the field of inertia and unexamined loyalties, of outworn and comfortable creeds.

The same thing happens in the deeper places where religious impulses flow. Some of us seem not to have so much capacity for spiritual attainment as do others. Where the Luthers and Wesleys and St. Francis’ and the Fosdicks seem to soar to lofty heights, we must plod patiently the steep, long trail. In our hearts we may say, "What is the use? I can’t be a saint. I’m not even sure I want to be. Such things are too high for me." So we settle back, and become average, or less-than-average, religionists, unadventurous and visionless, with no scope or hope. Some persons have quite trying so long ago that they can scarce remember the day when they said: "This day I will try to let God live through me where I am. I shall listen for His leading and rely on His love."

Well, you see that Jesus was, in this parable, condemning the fellow who brings neither vision nor energy to his task of living. He is talking about the multitude who feel no thrill, and seek none, in living. How often Jesus deplored the dull and unawakened life. "O fools and slow of heart to understand!" [Luke 24: 25]. "To you," he said, "is given to understand the mysteries of the Kingdom." [Luke 8: 10]. But they either did not know, or knew only half of it. And Jesus was astonished at man’s lack of insight, and the dullness of his imagination.

It has been said that even God Himself does not "make a Stradivarius violin without a Stradivarius." But the ordinary worker tends to shrink from going alone, sticks to the protective cover of the crowd, fears the release of personal initiative. He has but one talent and prefers to bury it in mass thoughts, mass movements, mass convictions, rather than venture forth with some individual coloring to the life around him. He is lost in collective thought, collective tastes, collective convictions; and there his talent is buried.

A poet has said:

 "No help shall come from the scarlet skies,

Till the people rise!

Till the people rise, my arm is weak,

I cannot speak till the people speak.

When men are dumb, my voice is dumb,

I cannot come till the people come."

That’s a little over-humanistic, but it has a well-sharpened point!

2) Roy Burkhart point out that there is another peril besetting the person with ordinary talents and capacities. And that is that he will base his action on half-knowledge and ill-conceived resentments. "I knew thee that thou are a hard man, reaping where thou didst not sow, and gathering where thou didst not scatter." I knew you were an exploiter, and I would not be exploited!

Now this evaluation of the king was partly right, but only partly so. This half-considered, resentful judgment, arose out of the servant’s knowledge that the king was successful and that he had attained a great deal of prominence and resources.

But is this a "hard" man? He greets the five-talent servant with enthusiasm and commends him heartily for his profitable administration. He greets the two-talent servant with the same delighted enthusiasm and the same commendation. He recognizes, and appreciates, the evidence of faithfulness. energy and imagination. He gives them, each according to their ability and accomplishment, larger opportunities.

There is a tendency to persuade ourselves that all attainment about our own is due to fortunate circumstances, to a hard kind of justice, or to "pull" and "drag." These may sometimes be the facts. But they are not always so.

A man on relief was embittered because his family had to eat bread without butter. Now butter is a valuable element in a well balanced diet, and in tasty eating. And people should be able to have a reasonable amount of it.

But here is another man who is building a successful business. It comes the hard way, with little capital except what he and his family can manage to save as they go along. Among the many economies that he and his wife practice is their agreement that they will watch the food budget as frugally as practicable and that, for one thing, they will go without butter on their bread!

That was not fortuitous circumstance. And there is a great deal of that sort of thing that has gone into the success of some of the people who have arrived at places of leadership.

It was only half true for the one-talent servant to say, "I know that in your position of wealth and power, you are a hard man. You are an exploiter." There is, there, no appraisal of the vision, the energy, the swift approval and reward of initiative, and perhaps even some self-denial, that went into the overlord’s success.

And this half-knowledge impoverished the one-talent servant and, to a degree, the whole estate.

We impoverish ourselves, and all of society, with our actions based on half-truths, and half-understandings. And the bitternesses which we indulge, in this state, only tear down and destroy what should be built up. The brotherhood in which each serves according to his ability and resources is what deserves the King’s commendation. That is what offers hope for our day.

3) One more peril besets the one-talent fellow. Perhaps he had failed to conquer his sense of humiliation. Lord Byron buried his lameness in humiliation and resentment. Walter Scott invested his lameness without bitterness, and lived radiantly, buoyantly, in wholesome and lovable relationship to all the health around him.

Some hold their limitations so close to themselves that they can’t see past them -- like a penny held before the eye. Others get it far enough away so that most of the beautiful landscape can yet be seen.

In a certain orphanage lived a mal-formed, ugly, sickly, ill-tempered little girl, called Mercy Goodfaith. When she was about 10 years old, a woman came to the orphanage looking for a child to rear and love. To the amazement of the matron, the woman said that she would like to take a child nobody else would take! When she saw Mercy Goodfaith she said, "That is the child I want."

For many years the foster mother tried to help the child with her humiliation. She lavished understanding and love and good judgment upon her. Thirty five years later an official investigator of institutions visited another orphan’s home to inspect it. His report contained reference to the house as exquisitely clean, and to the 2 dozen children as extraordinarily happy. After supper they all went to the living room where 1 girl played an organ and all sang. 2 small girls sat on one arm of the matron’s big chair and 2 on the other. The tiniest child sat in her lap and 2 larger boys leaned over the back of the chair. It was evident, to the official investigator, that the children adored the matron. And who was she?

None other than Mercy Goodfaith -- still hunchbacked, still ugly of countenance, but beautiful to those kids! She had invested her fraction of a talent so well that she lived joyously, surrounded by the happiness and well-being and approval of others. Most of us average persons can do just as well. And it is important to remind ourselves that we can!

We can refuse to bury the talents that we do have. We can invest them where they will produce benefits and happiness. And you can be even a genius at kindness and faithfulness! That is the way to get involved at the needy spots of today’s world -- your world, and my world. That is the way to be on the side of the earth’s builders.

Amen.

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Dates and Places Delivered.

Wisconsin Rapids, September 25, 1955

Wisconsin Rapids, September 20, 1959

Wisconsin Rapids, July 24, 1966