These parables toward the end of Matthew’s Gospel are the
hardest parables, no question. They get harder and harder until we get to the
point where it feels like Jesus is contradicting himself. I mean, we just spent
weeks reading “the least shall be first and the first shall be last” and now
Jesus turns it around and says, “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?” What is going on here?
Fear. That’s what these parables
evoke—fear that we haven’t gotten it right—fear that even after seeking after
God earnestly (and, let’s face it, we haven’t always done that so well), even
when we have, we are afraid we haven’t done enough, because it’s not clear from
Jesus’ parables what “enough” is. There are many folks who spend their lives
afraid of being insufficient; afraid of letting everybody down, and nobody more
than God; afraid that they are not enough and never will be enough.
Yet, there is a thread woven through
the Gospels of something different. Jesus is hard—harsh, even—but especially to
those who believe they have it all figured out. These are the ones who find the
swiftest rebuke, so that everybody ends up alongside Peter, asking the question
he once uttered: “Lord, to whom shall I go?” You are it. If everything is as I
hope, then you are the only one worth turning to, and if it’s not, then I have
nothing else to fall back on, so what else is there but you?
As I read the parable of the
talents, it seems to me that that last slave, given the one talent, is absolutely
paralyzed by fear. I recognize this, because I see it all the time. I see
people who are so scared of doing anything that they quietly live and die never
having really lived. I see people paralyzed by anxiety and a feeling of
worthlessness—that they don’t deserve a thing and can’t believe anybody would
fail to see through their façade and see them for the imposter they are. This
slave would rather not have been given the talent at all! It would be much
better if the master had just given talents to others!
I’m reminded of
that marvelous scene in the Lord of the Rings (and if you don’t know what
I’m talking about, then go read it, go see it, and then go see it again) where
Frodo says to Gandalf: “I wish the Ring had never
come to me. I wish none of this had happened.” And Gandalf replies, “So do all
who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to
decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”