This homily was shared at our Sunday Evening Eucharist Service on 11/19/23.

“For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. At once the one who had received the five talents went off and traded with them and made five more talents. In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things; I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things; I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you did not scatter, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.’ But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. 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. As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ (Matthew 25:14-30)

In prayer recently, I've been confronted with the fact that I’m a deeply scared person. As I’ve read about and identified myself with anxious and troubled Martha in Luke chapter 10, as well as Jesus’ command not to worry in Luke chapter 12, I’ve become more aware of just how much of my daily life I spend in fear, even dread. Oftentimes I wake up scared, immediately worried about what I’ll do that day, whether or not I’ll get it done, what will happen if I don’t, things people will think about me if I don’t, how a conversation will go, what will happen if the conversation doesn’t go well, etc, etc. Or I’ll struggle with fears of the future in general, of death, that I’m a bad person, that I’m a disappointment, that I’m annoying. Fear fosters more fear. I’m afraid to fail, and if I fail, people will see me for who I really am, and if they see me that way they won’t love me anymore. Their grace doesn’t extend that far. God may love me, but if I let myself really slip up, even he may grow tired of me, and give me the punishment that’s due. So, oftentimes I’m driven by this fear, feeling like my best chance at security is to not slip up at all. This way, I may never have to face the judgment that’s always hanging over my head.

Relatedly, in this parable from Matthew, we see a character driven by fear: the servant that is entrusted with a single talent, or bag of gold. While the servants with five and two talents, “at once” it says, went and doubled their amounts, this servant buries his one talent in the ground. While the industrious servants seemed to know that they should, of course, take their talents and earn more for their master, this servant says: “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you did not scatter, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” The master is not happy with this reasoning, and despite the servant’s obvious wish to escape the master’s punishment, he’s thrown into the outer darkness.

What's interesting to me about this verse is that it seems, especially if the master symbolizes Jesus, that the servant has misunderstood his master’s character. He says: “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man.” While he is convinced that his master is cruel, in the master’s interactions with the other servants we see that he is eager to share what he has with them. He not only entrusts his servants with something precious, but rewards them for their faithful work, inviting them to “enter the joy of their master.”

When we act out of fear, we are living in a distorted reality. We feed into delusions we have about ourselves and the world around us. Because this servant believed his master to be cruel, he acted in a desperate way that ultimately went against his master's wishes. The servant was likely scared he would lose the talent entrusted to him or that it would be stolen and as a result bring upon himself the horrible judgment befitting of his “harsh” master. In the same way, when we convince ourselves that the Lord is a harsh man lacking in compassion, we too are liable to act entirely out of fear instead of faith, burying what may have been fruitful in us in the ground.

Fully understanding and knowing God is hard to imagine, but we Christians should cling to what we do know: that the Lord is good and kind and righteous. We need to cling to the fact that our God isn’t constantly waiting for an opportunity to condemn us, but is one that rushes to embrace us “while we are still a long way off” (Luke 15:20). That He leaves the entire flock to go after us when we go astray. That he calls us his sons and daughters. That he desires to gather us as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But, are we willing?

The question in light of these fears often isn’t whether or not our friends really love us, for example. And it certainly isn’t whether or not God loves us. The question is: are we willing to believe in the truth, and live like it? Are we willing to live like people who know that we have nothing to fear? As scary as it is to imagine God’s punishment and wrath coming to us, it’s scarier in some ways to believe that he is a gentle God, that desires to welcome us into his joy. For many of us, this may seem too good to be true. So how are we to believe it?

One way we can learn to believe this is by coming to this table. Through partaking of the Lord’s own body and blood, we can come to see God not as who we imagine him to be, but for who he actually is, a God that delights in us and welcomes us into his kingdom. Instead of being driven by fear, we can be driven by the knowledge of God’s love for us. We may have fears we struggle with all our lives, but God shows us another way, one that isn’t ruled by these fears, but frees us from them and leads us into deeper communion with him. Amen.

On Fear and "The Parable of the Talents": Camellia Bailey

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