(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Worship on November 19, 2017, Proper 28)
The Gamble of Parenthood
Many of my friends are young
parents. When they speak about
their children, their speech, I’ve noticed, enters a special register. It’s as though all of the sudden their
words wear halos—even if they’re talking about dirty diapers or sleepless
nights or walls now covered in a toddler’s graffiti art. Everything about their children is
sacred.
There are few certainties about
raising a child. One thing that is
certain, is the great cost. Sleep
and time and money and social life and energy and personal ambition—all are
sacrificed for the sake of the child.
What is also certain is the great risk. Will the child be born healthy? How will she develop socially and emotionally? Will she make friends?
As far as I know, all my friends
planned beforehand to have children.
And as far as I can tell, all of them wouldn’t change their decision for
the world. Even though the cost is
inevitably greater than they expected.
Even though sometimes the risk has cut the wrong way and left them with
unanticipated troubles.
It’s surprising enough to me that
my friends are resolved in their decision. But what surprises even more, is when I read the stories of
parents of children with severe disabilities or children whose life was cut
short. I read recently about Peter
and Barbara in Rhode Island. Peter
and Barbara had a daughter named Lauren.
Her first breath was meconium.
For a day, she lived on the respirator. Peter still remembers that day. How he reached clumsily toward Lauren and how she squeezed
his little finger and looked into his eyes. That day, Peter says, he saw beauty and love. The next day, Lauren died. Years later, Peter defiantly declares:
“I miss Lauren, but I wouldn’t, if [we conceived again] and I knew this was
going to happen [again], I wouldn’t wish Barbara not to be pregnant just
because this was going to happen.”[1]
I do not share Peter’s words to
suggest that tragedy can be wiped away with defiant hope. I share his words because I can hardly
believe them. Peter paid a cost
far greater than any of my friends.
He risked and lost so much.
And yet he declares that he would do it all again. Why?
That word “risk” keeps coming
up. It’s almost as though we’re
talking about a gamble, a wager, as though every parent who plans for a child
is nevertheless embarking on an unplannable adventure. Every parent who plans for a child is
rolling the dice.
And with few exceptions, even
when they lose, they win. Even when
they’re dealt a difficult hand, they declare it a gift. They declare themselves grateful.
Another Kingdom Story
In today’s scripture, Jesus
continues his storytelling. Last
week, remember, he told the story of a delayed wedding celebration. He urged his disciples, “Stay
awake!” Faith is not about
calculating the day or the hour when the kingdom will arrive. Faith is about making the kingdom
possible, about being ready for the
kingdom whenever it arrives. And the kingdom is near, already among
us, Jesus proclaims; it could be here any minute! It could come when we’re least expecting it: in a moment of
conflict, where forgiveness could bring the kingdom; in an unwanted
interruption, where hospitality could bear unexpected kingdom fruit; in the drudgery
of routine, where love could help the kingdom to grow against all odds, like a
flower in the cracks of the pavement.
Today Jesus continues to talk
about the kingdom. His story is
simple. Three slaves are entrusted
with their master’s money. A lot of money. A single talent is around twenty years’ wages: the earnings
of half a lifetime.[2] Two of the slaves are gutsy. They make some high-risk trades and
double their money. The other
slave is cautious and careful. He
keeps his talent hidden, so that there’s no danger of it being lost.
The message of the story is
unquestionable. Be like the two
servants. Not the one.
An All-Too-Human Tale
Beyond that point, though, I have
a lot of questions. The master in
the story resembles a ruthless tycoon who cares more for profit than
people. Thus he casts off the
careful slave, calling him “wicked” and “lazy” and “worthless.” Is this a picture of God, the same God
who we have been told again and again is merciful and gracious, slow to anger
and abounding in steadfast love?[3] Is this the same God who blesses the
poor in spirit? And the world of
today’s story resembles a heartless meritocracy, where people are judged on
their performance and receive rewards or punishment accordingly. Is this a picture of the kingdom of
God, the same kingdom of God that brings down the powerful and lifts up the
lowly?
Like last week’s parable, this is
another story that begs for careful attention. If we take it too literally, then we end up with a God who
looks more like a merciless Wall Street investor than a merciful father, and a
kingdom that looks more like a competition of the fittest than a gathering of
the broken.
My hunch is that this is another
case of Jesus telling stories with relatable, all-too-human characters. In other words, his audience would have
been familiar with absentee landowners expecting big returns from their
underpaid servants. The story
itself that Jesus tells is nothing new.
What is new, is what Jesus is suggesting about faith.
The Risk of Faith
When our back is up against the
wall, as were the backs of Jesus and his Jewish audience, and as are the backs
of many churches today, the impulse is self-preservation. Faith becomes about survival: in our
case, about sustaining the brick-and-mortar church or the programs that have
traditionally run inside it or the people that fill its pews. But Jesus seems to have a very
different sort of faith in mind.
For me, the key to the story is
the wild amount of money that the servants are entrusted with and their
response. If you were entrusted
with half a million dollars belonging to someone else, would you then invest it
in high-risk trades? Or would you
hide it, to ensure a full return?
To be sure, Jesus isn’t giving an
economics lecture on investment.
Elsewhere he has very little good to say about the practices of saving
up and seeking profit.[4] He’s talking here about the
kingdom. He’s telling a story
about faith. And apparently faith
is filled with risk. It’s not
something we hide and hang on to, something that we save in hopes that it will
later save us. Faith is a venture
into abundant life now. It’s
always calling for more—more love, more forgiveness, more hospitality. It’s a gamble, a wager, a bet. Which means that it might not come off
the way we hope. Just looks at
Jesus’ life. Most of the world
would consider the cross a great loss, a heavy cost, regardless of what comes
after.
And Yet…
If Jesus’ story today is any indication,
the kingdom of God will not result from safe, well-calculated investments. Jesus certainly didn’t make a safe bet
himself. The kingdom of God,
according to Christ, will come in the wild wagers that we make in love and
forgiveness, generosity and hospitality.
We may lose these bets, as Jesus did. And yet….
It strikes me that the risky
faith Jesus proclaims, looks quite similar to the gamble of parenthood. The point is not winning. The point is the risk itself, that even
when you lose, you win, because the risk itself exposes you to a life-giving
love. I think of Peter who had his
daughter Lauren for only one day, whose grief is deeper than any I have ever
known. He paid a great cost. He risked and lost. And yet….
Prayer
Loving God,
In Jesus Christ
We see
The risk of life
And the hope of your kingdom:
Stir us to make daily
The holy bet of faith,
To take our chances
On love and forgiveness
As you have done.
Amen.
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