Spiritual Cowards (Reflections on Pentecost 22)

"...but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away"
                                                                             Matthew 25: 29b

One of my old high school teachers used to say, "I prefer honest arrogance to false modesty." I'm not sure I agree with him as I'm pretty put off by any arrogance--be it honest or false. Nevertheless, I've got to admit I'm fascinated--in much the same way people are fascinated by political tyrants and seriel killers--with that monument to American arrogance, greed, and self-importance known to the world as Donald Trump.

Yup. I'll admit it: One of my guilty pleasures is watching NBC-TV's The Apprentice, the reality show hit in which young business men and women attempt to convince the pompous Obama "birther" that they deserve a position in his mega-million dollar real estate corporation. It all comes down to which contestant proves to Mr. Trump that they can make him the most money. Those who dare big can win big, and those who are timid get the sack.

Jesus' parable in Matthew 25: 14-30 reminds me of an episode of The Apprentice. A rapacious robber baron goes on a journey, leaving three servants, in whom he has various degrees of confidence, in charge of his estate. Servant #1 is given what would be the equivalent in today's money of about 1.7 million American dollars. Servant #2, presumably a less capable man, is entrusted with just shy of a million bucks. Servant #3 gets just over 300 grand of the boss' loot.

The first two servants invest their holdings, and each manages to double their money. Poor old #3, a pusillanimous wuss, is more afraid of losing the boss' dough than he is eager to make a killing. He knows the boss can be an angry jerk, and he's terrified he'll screw up. So what does he do? He digs a hole and hides the money until the boss gets back.

When the chief returns, he praises the first two servants for their wise investments and promises them raises and bonuses. The third guy, however, gets a royal chewing out. The boss demands to know why this guy didn't even bother putting the money in the bank to earn interest (This suggestion was, technically speaking, a violation of the Jewish law of the day. Nevertheless, it was totally in keeping with boss' greedy bottom-line philosophy). When the poor slob can't answer, the boss tells him, "You're fired!"

Now, just forget for a moment that this story involves money. There are plenty of smiling TV evangelists who will tell you that God wants you to live your best life and be prosperous financially. Yada yada yada. What if you're just a middle-class stiff like the rest of us?

What if this story could be about our spiritual wealth? Let's consider that our Lord has left us in charge of our intellects and our ability to  love each other and to find meaning in life. Let's take inventory of the people who surround us, our natural talents, our health, and the time we're alotted on the planet. Just what are we supposed to do with these things?

Allegorically, I recoil against casting Almighty God in the Donald Trump role--that of the ruthless boss. Nevertheless, the cold truth is that one day we will each have to account for our time and the way we used what we have been given. And if our fear has been greater than our desire--spiritually or otherwise--we will be that much the poorer.

Sometimes I sense a great spiritual cowardice. When I first came to Philadelphia some seventeen years ago, there were about 60 congregations of my denomination within the city limits. Today, there are little more than 40--most of which have a weekly worship attendance of fewer than 100 people. I've seen congregations hoarding vast financial assests, terrified to spend a nickle, because the congregation fears closing more than they desire to share the Gospel. These churches close anyway.

I wonder just what it is that we fear? Are we afraid to admit our own unbelief, so, out of cultural politeness we maintain a nominal but spiritless Christianity? Are we afraid to engage each other in matters of faith because we fear admitting that we know less than we "should?" Do we fear that pursuing a life of righteousness, virtue, and transcendence would make us less interesting people than we currently imagine ourselves to be?

I don't want to be a loser in my life. I want to know at the end of my days that I've invested my love, my intellect, my compassion, my curiosity, and--yes--even my meagre financial resources in the service of God. If I don't question, if I don't reach out to others, if I don't risk myself, I will certainly end up with nothing.

Thank you for reading. Leave me a comment, will you? It's good to know you've been here