And who we really are
Proper 28A | Matthew 25:14-30
We’ve had some pretty intense gospel readings for several weeks. And last week I began to feel it. So I thought maybe this week, we could start out with a joke.
I’m so much in debt, I can’t afford to pay my electric bill…
These are the darkest days of my life…
OK. How about this one:
I lost my job at the bank on my very first day.
An old man asked me to check his balance, so I pushed him over.
Alright, here’s a classic:
My bank loves me.
They told me my credit card balance is outstanding!
What do you think? Does this help us talk about money, debt, obligations, and standing against the exploitative buzzsaw of individualizing economic fortunes? Yeah!
But really, the best joke is that this parable shows up every third year on the day many churches, including ours, choose to do their pledge campaigns. That’s the best joke of all!
Jesus is talking about usury—exploiting people through crippling debt—and we’re going to have to spin that into a message about stewardship.
So, here goes nothing!
Let’s start with the context.
Jesus is in Jerusalem with his followers, preparing for the Passover. He’s being confronted by all the Temple leaders and he has humiliated them in the process.
And he’s teaching people by inviting them to compare God’s dream for reality to their world. To compare what they know of God’s dream to different examples, to test what they already do know.
That the Kin-dom is owned by the poor in spirit. It grows like a mustard seed. And it offers enough for everyone to live on.
That’s what it is like.
Now, compare this parable to that.
A terrifying master leaves town and puts some slaves in charge of some money. And two of them double it. Not by going to a casino and getting lucky. Or investing in stocks that double their value over the course of a few months or years. That doesn’t exist there.
They double it off the backs of their neighbors.
When the slave owner comes back he calls these two trustworthy. And because they made the slave owner a bunch of money, he put them in charge of a bunch of stuff. Doesn’t matter that they’re skilled at…anything at all. Making the boss money gets them power in the organization.
One of the slaves doesn’t.
He knows the slave owner is cruel and a thief. But instead of going along and keeping himself safe, he buries the boss’s money and gives it back. So he is paid up in full.
And yet, even though he has all of his money back, the boss goes ballistic. He takes the money, gives it to his new favorite lieutenants and throws this guy out for eternal punishment.
At this point, you might be thinking…
Wait a second…isn’t this about growing talents? That’s totally the stewardship sermon in a nutshell, isn’t it? I’m sure most of us have heard some variation of that.
Or maybe we’re struggling with the what and the why here. Maybe we get the basic elements but can’t see what they actually have to do with Jesus’s teaching—like, there’s still a veil over this thing. And partly because we are wrestling with a vision that we want the Kin-dom to look like but it somehow doesn’t.
And for many of us, the first clue may be the punishment at the end. That a slave is punished for giving back to the slave owner what is owed. He is punished for completing the debt obligation. Take that in for a second.
This is a parable about usury.
This isn’t a concept we’re very familiar with anymore. Which is not just a shame, it is shameful.
So what is usury?
Usury is lending with the intention of exploiting the relationship. It is a grave sin. And if we’re not careful, we could be assuming Jesus is endorsing it here.
So imagine I lend you fifty bucks to help cover something, I might like to see that fifty bucks again. But if I lend you fifty bucks and expect to get it back later, I’m entering into a legal arrangement and imposing an obligation of paying back that debt. You’re with me, right?
What happens if I expect more back? I lend you fifty bucks and expect fifty plus something else. Maybe a Starbucks gift card. Or you give me three twenties. Maybe you do it as a tip or I expect it as a thank you.
This isn’t the same as charging an interest rate, but it’s also not nothing, either. The debt is fifty bucks. Not sixty. I’m not trying to make something off of the investment.
But if I do expect it, I’m crossing a threshold in the relationship.
Now imagine I’ve got millions in the bank (now that’s funny joke!) and I loan fifty bucks to someone at a 10% interest rate who struggles to pay it back. It doubles at, what, month seven?
Notice the difference of lending when it isn’t about gaining anything from it. And when one party has power to pay and the other doesn’t. When one owns slaves and another is a slave. Or when only one does actual labor for a living and still can’t pay.
This is why traditions forbade charging interest for centuries.
Not because we think charging a 2.9% rate to people with “good” credit is the same as predatory lending. But because the predatory power is insatiable. And the desire to make fat cash on the deal is strong.
But more than anything, to forbid one from exploiting one’s power over another.
Because what is the difference in our system between good credit and bad credit? Two things: how wealthy you are and how wealthy you have been from the beginning.
The question is not simply about who a lender can trust will pay back a loan. It is how we demean the poor, calling them bad. Then using that demeaning to justify charging them much higher rates. Which is textbook exploitation. It’s usury all the way down.
The entire credit lending system is usury. Not simply because it charges interest (as if that alone gets to be the whole issue), but most obviously because it charges the poor more. And, through fees, bankruptcy rules, and predatory practices, the world’s biggest banks can make billions of dollars off of them.
The third slave stands up to that injustice.
He refuses to steal to line the pocket of the slave owner. Even as he knows that this guy will punish him severely. And he does it knowing precisely how it will play out. That the slave owner will promote the thieves and condemn the honest one. Not because he hates the honesty, per se, but that the honesty exposes the sin of the slave owner’s entire operation.
And we’re going to hear next week why Jesus is telling this parable.
But we already know enough today about this cruel mob boss and slave owner to know that this isn’t a picture of the Kingdom of Heaven that Jesus has already described. That it’s a picture, instead of a cruel kingdom of earth. With a capricious leader who demands his way by exploiting his subjects and rewarding exploitation among his followers.
And we have a single slave who stands up to that sin. Who refuses to participate in it. And who refuses to expand that sinful empire. He stands up and gives it back.
Which looks a lot like what Jesus is about to do.
So…Stewardship!
Here’s where we try to do the impossible!
Seriously. How am I supposed to go from usury to give generously to your church?
What I will say is that what Jesus does on his way to the cross is trust his followers are listening. Not just in the moment, but to the whole story. That they are following and learning and becoming. So that when he goes away, they will have the skills to see God’s dream for the world as even possible. That it is already here and also coming soon.
And that they would need community. To be together. Sharing the love of Christ, remembering his presence with them, and being filled with grace to give that grace to the neighborhood—to the ends of the earth.
And that trust is built in participation. Being part of things. In loving each other. Reaching out. Giving to the whole community.
In recent weeks, Craig and Peggy have both reminded us about the gifts others have given that we rely on. And that is a blessing. A blessing not to hoard or blow through as if these are the defining values of God. It is a blessing we’ve received to be a living community of Christ in this neighborhood today.
And we have two very specific responsibilities.
- To participate in that living community of Christ in this neighborhood today with our own gifts of money, time, and skill—joining in with them to make this whole thing go. And
- To help ensure that this living community of Christ can share God’s grace to this neighborhood in the future.
And there are so many ways to participate.
With Grace and Hope.
I’ve talked for years about doing up the pledge campaign, PBS-style. We might need tote bags. Maybe a new limited edition T-shirt!
We’ve also talked about how people like to give to things rather than institutions.
And all of the literature says we need to encourage each of us to think with gratitude.
I think all of this is true and valuable. But I think what we hear in the gospels through this season is not a strategy to encourage generosity. Jesus trusts us to know what we actually are supposed to do. And he challenges us to see some of the broken priorities we live with.
It isn’t a mirror to show us what we like about ourselves, but a window so we can see who needs God’s grace in our neighborhood.
Because we aren’t following Jesus for the swag. Or to fund projects. Or even to rely on once a year thinking with gratitude so we won’t be stingy.
He trusts us to live out our vocation together. In this neighborhood. To these people who are here, now. In this room, living and working across the street or downtown, and those living on the street or near the bridge.
All of this is us. Our living out our values, our care, our devotion in this life with these people in this community.
We are St. Stephen’s Church. And it takes us to invest in us.
- To serve as beacons of Christ,
- Offer a generous invitation and welcome,
- Stand with the vulnerable and marginalized to transform systems of injustice,
- Connect with others, and
- Develop leaders.
To do this work of love. To be the work. All of us. And with our whole selves. Together. May we continue to embody the beauty, love, and devotion in this neighborhood that God graces us with, entrusts us with, and lives out through us for the rest of our days.