In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In the Antiochian Archdiocese—in fact, in the Patriarchate of Antioch—the readings shift this morning, when we move to the gospel of Matthew, because we’re counting down now to the story of the Syro-Phoenician woman who gets a special place of prominence in the Antiochian branch of the Church, which means that, unlike the rest of the Orthodox Church this morning, or most of the Orthodox Church, we have the parable of the talents, as they call it. Probably no surprise to you, beloved, that I’m interested in making three points with respect to this text.

The first is this: is the image of Christ as judge. Not a popular image of Christ. Christ as buddy—that’s a popular image. Christ as savior—popular image. But Christ as judge is one that’s a bit challenging. Today’s parable is one in a series of stories that illustrate the last part of the second article of the Creed. “He will come again in glory to judge.” All judgment, Jesus declares, the Father has put into his hands. Now, it’s not at all uncommon to hear today’s parable as though it were a moral and philosophical lesson. Indeed, I have heard it used as an argument for capitalism! [Laughter] It is a parable that proclaims loudly and firmly, without mistake, the platform of the Republican party—I’ve heard it interpreted that way.

Let me suggest another approach. You see, men tend to treat this story, if they notice it at all, as though it expressed useful aphorisms. Regarded as such, the tutorial of this account is: Everyone has a separate set of talents; the important thing is to make the most of what you have been given. Will the parable bear that meaning? Well, of course it will; of course it will bear that meaning. Is that the meaning of it? No! If this were a story told by Benjamin Franklin or John Dewey, this interpretation would make logical sense. Everybody’s been given a certain number of talents, and we’re all called to live to our full potential. But is this really a parable about prudence and personal industry? Did we all get up early this morning and come here simply to hear a bit of economic or personal wisdom?

But if we attend closely to the setting in the introduction, this is mainly a story about Christ. In this story, Christ goes away for a long time. That’s how it begins, isn’t it? He’s going away for a long time. And then at the end, he comes back. That’s what the story’s about. The parable says that we are living in between these two events: his going away and his coming back. These two events frame history as we live in it. This is not a story of moral wisdom. It is an account of human life in a Christian framework, guided from his going away, guided toward his coming back. It declares that each of us is destined to have Christ make the final determination of his life. This is a story about the structure of history. It says that history has a goal determined by the return of Christ, who will judge the lives of each of us. The parable that comes after this is the parable of the last judgment, which we’ll be hearing in a few weeks, won’t we?

And what each of us hopes to hear at the end of it—and let us hope that for each of us and let us hope that for one another—“Enter into the joy of your Lord.” And that, beloved, really is the substance of the matter. Do we live—are we living—under his lordship? Is he really, as Scripture says, Adonai Eloheinu, the Lord our God? Of him we declare he will come again in glory to judge.

Now, if that’s left out, then we have a completely different parable—but that tends to be left out. In fact, it’s almost always left out. When our politicians make their decisions, they commonly will say, “We’ll let history be the judge.” History is going to be judged! History is no safe judge at all! Christ is the judge. Christ is the judge! If that idea were dominant in the minds of American citizens, just think of what a transforming thing that would have on our life. If that idea were dominant in our economic institutions, our banks, our corporations, those who control the stocks, the movement, the manufacture of products and their sale—that Christ is finally going to be the judge—what a difference that would make!

But let’s talk about these talenta, as the second point in today’s reflections. The Latin form of the word “talent,” talenta is used commonly now as a metaphor, that we’ve forgotten that it originally means a monetary unit. We’ve kind of forgotten that, so it’s a metaphor, and we almost always use the word “talent” now in a metaphorical sense. You have a talent to play the piano, for example. I took piano lessons many years ago as a child, and even now when the light is right in the room, I can distinguish between the white and the black keys. [Laughter]

Let us speak of these talenta that the Lord hands over to each of his servants—the Lord hands over to each of his servants. When he does this, we must not pretend that he says, “Here is your life: Make the most of it. Be all you can be. Live your dream. Treat life as a series of opportunities.” I have certainly heard the parable interpreted that way! He doesn’t say that, though. The initial truth of these talenta is that they do not belong to us. The sacred text does not, strictly speaking, say that the Lord gives them to us. The verb there is paredoken, not edoken. He entrusts these things to us. If it is true that we are to make the most of what he hands over to us, it is because it all belongs to him. At the beginning of the parable it speaks of: he hands over to them, entrusted them, his property: heparakonta avtou his property.

The parable declares that what pertains to our lives does not belong to us. How many times has each one of you heard that from me in the confessional? How many times? Your life does not belong to you. Your body does not belong to you. And you can’t treat it as though it’s your own. It’s not your own. Let’s take the sixth chapter of 1 Corinthians. It’s not your own. Your body does not belong to you, but your mind also does not belong to you. Your heart does not belong to you. All that remains the property of the Lord. The entire truth about human existence is that it is fiduciary; it is something entrusted to human beings. Human existence is something held in trust.

Now what do we mean by something held in trust? What I believe to be one of the most important institutions of learning in the United States is found in Cincinnati, Ohio, along with other things that are important, such as the Cincinnati Reds. [Laughter] It’s an institution called Hebrew Union Theological Seminary, which I regard as one of the most important institutions in this country, one of the institutions in this country which has produced graduates who have been moral leaders, important moral leaders. Graduates of this institution have been extremely important moral influences throughout the entire—almost the entire history of this country. It’s a very important institution: Hebrew Union Theological Seminary. Over the past several decades, this institution has fallen on hard financial times.

It was obliged to sell quite a significant portion of its own real estate, to sell it. Why? Because somebody forgot his fiduciary responsibilities. His name was Bernie Madoff. Is he still alive, by the way? His shadow still darkens this earth? Anyway, I understand there’s a new film coming out about him or something like that. That’s the rumor on the street. It’s something like 50 billion dollars of other people’s money? The trustees of Hebrew Union Theological Seminary entrusted vast amounts of resources into this man’s hands, and he seriously hurt that institution because he forgot that the money did not belong to him. That’s what we must remember about our lives: they do not belong to us. If we treat our lives as though they do belong to us, the expectation of prison is the least of our worries, and yet it is so easy to imagine that all of it does belong to us. Most people believe that their lives are their own. Most people on the street believe that. There are entire institutions in our culture dedicated to the propagation of that lie.

Today’s gospel, however, serves to disabuse us of that untruth, an untruth, like all untruths, that has its source in the father of lies. We do not belong to ourselves. 1 Corinthians 6: “We have been bought at a price.” We have been paid for. Are we redeemed people? Do we believe in the redemption? Just look at the word “redemption.” What does it mean? Redem- redemptio, what does it mean? Paid for! Etymologically, that’s what it means. It’s paid for. And if we have been paid for, we are not our own property. We live with a serious fiduciary responsibility. We have a Lord. A little later this morning, we will declare when we recite the Creed that he will come again in glory to judge, and when he comes there will be a serious and thorough auditing of the books.

Point three—I’m suspecting that some of you are thinking the proper inference to be drawn from what I’ve said is fear—and you would be wrong! In fact, in this morning’s gospel the only one who’s condemned is the one who acted on fear! It’s a fear—heaven knows where the fear comes from, but it’s fear. From points one and two this morning, we might suppose that the proper lesson today is the necessity of being fearful. No, it’s just the opposite! The only one condemned in the story is the fearful man, the man without the courage to deal with his life. When he’s asked for the reckoning, when the books are opened and the audit is made, he comes forward with this little one talent that he got, and the master asked him for an explanation, and what does he say? “I was afraid.” [Laughter] “I was afraid to take the risk. I was afraid.”

We might think of him as a lazy man, but he was not a lazy man. In fact, he probably worked as hard as the other two. He spent his whole life digging a hole. He uses his fear as an excuse. He wasn’t lazy, but he buried what God entrusted to him. He put it into the earth. There’s where he invested his life: in the preparation of his grave. For him, this earth was the solid reality. That was something that he could believe in and what he could see. He spent a life digging away, digging his own grave.

You know, ironically, in this parable, fear is not portrayed as a good thing. When we declare, “He will come again in glory to judge,” the proper response is not fear; it is not fear. The fear of God is not a sense of timidity, certainly not the proper foundation for a fiduciary life. In fact, I don’t believe there is any room for timidity in a faithful life. On the contrary, the Scriptures exhort us over and over again Tharsete. Take courage; take courage. How important that word is. Actually, it sounds a little better when it’s pronounced in the right language. Courage, coraggio. You get some sense there that it comes from the Latin word cor, which means heart: take heart. Take heart—that’s the lesson to be drawn from today’s story. Take heart.

We answer to Christ our Lord. Take heart. Amen.