Spirit of the Heartland

Of course, I didn't know I wasn't supposed to be eating my neighbor's figs. No one had told me anything about forbidden fruit. I only knew that Jesus would love the things that I loved.

I know a little more now about forbidden fruit. And when I hear today's readings, I'm not so sure anymore about what I'd do if Jesus came to my house.

There's all this scary talk about "the day of the Lord." We don't like to hear about God's wrath. No one welcomes words like "distress and anguish, ruin and devastation, darkness and gloom."

I have this vision of an adult Jesus showing up at the door (still wearing his halo and dress). I look at the chaos and clutter in my house, I think of all the stolen forbidden fruit, and I remember the words in today's gospel: "You wicked and lazy slave!" And I wish I could pretend that I don't hear the knock and see him there at the window.

But no one, not even Jesus, comes to my home unannounced and unwelcomed. My assortment of dogs see to that, so I let him in. Of course there's no place for him to sit down. I run to scoop up the papers and books and cats and computer disks from the couch. All the time I'm thinking about how to apologize to him for the mess I've made of my life.

And then I hear him behind me, laughing. I turn, and he steps across the basket of laundry, grins, takes my hand and says, "Well done, good and trustworthy slave, you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things: You will be in charge of 200 beagles, 30 raccoons, and a multitude of hamsters."

"For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance." You know, I'm not really sure that 200 beagles is the reward I want for my trustworthy care of those beagles I already have. But that's not the point.

In this odd story of the talents, Matthew is writing about judgment and the Day of the Lord. This is the time of reckoning. The Day of Judgment is at hand. Jesus is coming ... and what have you done with all that he has given you?

Most of us are pretty sure we won't make a good account of ourselves. Especially after hearing judgment-day passages like our first reading today, we might be like the man who hid his talent safely away and expect God to be a harsh master. A talent is money, a lot of money. It would take about fifteen years to earn that much. God's gonna be really mad if I lose it in a risky investment, so I want to be really careful with it, to be able to give it back to God. That's being a good steward, isn't it?

The gospel says the answer is "No." That's living in fear, hoarding gifts, and obsession with one's own survival. Take those talents – whatever God has given you – and risk spreading them around. Whatever special gifts God has given you – playing the piano, or caring for critters, or listening to someone's loneliness -- use them, share them, invest them, and let them grow. Yeah, God knows, you might lose them. But remember, Matthew, in an earlier story, told about a king who forgave an incredible debt – a thousand talents ... and that's really big money, maybe 200 million dollars – risked, lost, AND forgiven. "Take the risk," the gospel says. God can forgive our mistakes, but what can God do with our unwillingness to live and use our talents?

If Jesus comes to your house, it may not be what you expect. Where we expect wrath because of the stolen forbidden fruit, or the messes of our lives, God offers forgiveness. When we're not afraid to open the door of our messy lives to God, when we're not afraid to use the talents we have been given, Jesus invites us to share in his joy.

If Jesus comes to your house, look out!
The day of the Lord may not be what we expect it to be.
Get ready to enter into joy.