Reading Sacred Scripture is so rewarding to me because I alway find new surprises and insights, even in portions I’ve read many times before. I strongly believe this is the Spirit, offering fresh ideas to those who are willing to give their mind and hearts to the text. One such revelation came to me when I was reading today’s Gospel selection, from Luke.
Jesus’ parable is a classic: a master gives talents to three servants before departing, and then returns home after a long time to discover what kind of returns the servants had with their talents. The lesson of the parable is (from Luke’s version), “to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.” There’s another version of this story in the Gospel of Matthew.
I imagine just about all of us know the basics of this story. And I’m sure we all have at least some idea of the message behind the story: The master is God, the servants are Christians, and what we do with our talents is in some way reflected in the master’s evaluation of us. But I’m interested in one portion today from Luke that isn’t reflected in Matthew.
In Luke’s version, the master is a noble who seeks kingship. Luke describes: “His fellow citizens, however, despised him and sent a delegation after him to announce, ‘We do not want this man to be our king.'”
In both versions of the story, there’s an idea of trade. The parable from Luke says, “Engage in trade with these until I return”; the version from Matthew specifically notes, “the one who received five talents went and traded with them” and also describes that the one who received two talents did the same.
Now, what I’m interested in looking at is envisioning(in Luke’s version) about how the two servants who engaged in trade did so. Because, if you think about it, it’s kind of tricky. Trade normally works by interacting with those around you. Like, if I’m trying to sell some Spider-Man comics, I don’t hop on a plane and go to China; I’ll generally stay close to home and see if anyone in my area will make me richer.
So, in the story, If the fellow citizens hated the noble, then why would they engage in trade with the two servants who did try to grow their talents? Imagine that conversation:
“Y’know, I despise Nobleman Bob with all my heart. He’s certainly no king of mine! . . . And who are you?”
“Oh, I’m one of his servants. I’m trying to do some trading to make him richer.”
How would the noble-hating merchant respond? It seems like it’d be an awkward moment, at the very least.
As I see it, there are three likely scenarios:
• The two servants didn’t reveal who they were or what they were doing. However, most communities back then were relatively small, and the odds are pretty good that anyone local with whom the servants would have engaged in trade would have already known the servants (and their unpopular master). And even if they weren’t known, a talent was a lot of money – at least thousands of dollars, and quite possibly even millions of dollars. So it stretches my credulity to think that local traders would shuffle around such large sums without having at least some idea of who the servants’ master was.
• The two servants did reveal who they were, and the people with which they traded didn’t let that knowledge interfere with their trade.
• The two servants went elsewhere to trade with their talents. While not impossible, it would have been more effort.
If we have these possibilities in mind, what does it mean?
Well, envisioning how these talents grew in value can give us new insight into a parable we’ve probably heard before. See, if we all agree that the servants are Christians, and Christians were then (as — in some places — now) disliked and disapproved by “fellow citizens,” then we now have new insight into how we can grow our talents.
We can choose not to reveal “who our master is,” and instead let the act of “trade” serve as the way we grow our Master’s wealth. The late departed Fred Rogers — of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood — was a devout Presbyterian minister. But that religion itself didn’t filter through his show; he let the gifts of the Spirit lead others to Christly lives without hitting others over the head with his own faith.
We can own up to who we are and what our Faith is, and let others accept or reject us as they see fit. I suspect this is what many of us do. While many people claim to dislike Christians, they often like how we act: We can be humble, nice, hard-working, honest, and reliable. That makes us good coworkers, employees, teachers, friends, and even spouses . . . even if those we’re close to don’t believe. At worst, those without faith are happy to use us to “engage in trade.” At best, our presence may sow seeds that can spring roots later.
Or we can go where people haven’t heard of our Master. This includes literal missionaries, as well as those who engage with others who are “outside the kingdom” . . . that is to say, without any strong feelings one way or the other about God.
I don’t feel there’s any right or wrong answer; God is seeking to see that we grow our talents, and (provided we act morally) doesn’t seem overly concerned with the “hows.” And it can change from situation to situation; some friends I’ve had for decades probably have no clue as to my faith (since it hasn’t come up), but I’ve done my best to serve as a Christian example in word and deed to them; some strangers have learned I was a Catholic within the course of a five-minute conversation.
The one thing God doesn’t want us to do is to “bury our talents.” He wants us out there, interacting with others, working on mutually beneficial “trade.” The question is: How are you growing the talents God has given you?
