“Master, I knew you to be a hard man,
reaping
where you did not sow, and gathering
where
you scattered no seed…” –Matthew 25:24
This morning was beautiful in Houston: crisp, cold, --the
air was clear –the sky was brilliant and a peaceful blue. I got out for my morning walk a little late –I
tend to get out a little later these days—but when I woke and found the house
was cold I knew I couldn’t stay in bed; I had to get outside. I had gone to bed still thinking about those virgins and their oil jars and their lamps, but I woke up to the thrill of a cold house; I
had to be up. And I was eager to get outside.
The cold weather (for Houston) came with a bit of a breeze
(I guess) because a few of my neighbors’ recycle bins were blown open. (Several
of us had put our bins out Friday, hoping that the recycling pick-up would
start again, but apparently not yet. There hasn’t been a pick up since before
Harvey; so, many bins in our neighborhood are almost overflowing with broken
down boxes and beer cans and plastic bottles.)
When I got halfway down the street to Helen’s house –she’s the friendly neighbor
lady with the three floor mop dogs who talks to me about the weather and her
grandchildren and our friend Molly.
Anyway, when I got to Helen’s house (p.s. her husband’s name
is Anthony) (I mean, just so you know)… Anyway, and … Anyway, when I got to
Helen’s house I noticed that their recycle bin had blown open and there was a couple of flattened boxes near
their driveway and a couple of plastic water bottles, and another sheet of
cardboard up against the curb across the street. My immediate reaction was to pick them up,
but I didn’t. I started to walk past them. Looking at their open bin which was
still pretty full, I figured trash had blown out of it sometime in the
night, and thought of closing it for them so more trash wouldn’t blow out.
But, I started to talk myself out of it. I began to convince myself
that this wasn’t my mess to clean up, and that –in fact—it would be good for
the person responsible to find it and clean it up.
I rationalized that they needed to learn to put their
recycle bin away and not to overstuff it –and to make sure they secured the
lid. If –I reasoned—I cleaned up their
mess –which, now I was noticing was also scattered across their driveway and decorating
their front lawn (Boy! They must be good at this whole recycling thing!) –anyway,
if I cleaned up their mess for them they wouldn’t find it and learn to take
proper care next time. Heck, it would be
a disservice to them and the community at large if I… It was at that point
that I found myself stooping down to pick up a flattened box and a couple of
plastic bottles….
Anyway (again), this is how I came to stop thinking about
the poor foolish virgins and their lack of oil and began to understand more
clearly the parable of the talents. Coming upon the mess at Helen’s house (and
Anthony) my initial reaction was to help. There was a mess, and I didn’t want
to just leave it for someone else. That would be wrong. Yet, when I hesitated, and
began to rationalize, I pushed that initial urge down; in a way, I buried it,
and as I did, I noticed a growing tension and anxiety rising inside of me –taking
its place. And with this growing tension
came resentment. Why can’t people take care of their own trash? Why can’t THEY
be responsible for their own recycling? Who do THEY think they are? Why should
I be taking care of their messes? They
won’t learn or change unless I let them suffer the natural consequences of not
securing their trash. In fact, for their own good, I should probably grab some
more recycling and throw it around the yard as well and those beer cans in the neighbor's
recycle bin –maybe I should throw some of those around, too!
In that moment I was becoming a “hard man,” a man “who reaps
where has not sewn,” a man who “gathers where he has not scattered,” and a man
who scatters where he has not recycled! (when no one is looking…)
But the reason I was becoming that man was because I was
burying my talent. I was (to use a
psychological term) sublimating my gifts.
Yet, after picking up Helen’s yard and pushing what I could back down
into her bin and then putting the excess into the bin of those nursing students
who live next door, I continued on my walk and –with another stop or two to
pick up stray cardboard and plastic-- I realized:
This is the parable. I was living it. Right here. Right now.
God has given me certain gifts (my
talents), one of which is the urge to help.
And when I bury that talent not only do I hide my gift, but I also begin
to grow resentful, just like that “one talent” servant in the parable. And like that servant I begin to project my
resentment onto others –including the Master (i.e. God). Burying my talent, I begin to grow hard and bitter
and I project that bitterness and growing hardness, onto the world. I see
others as fools and irresponsible and selfish and…
But, in fact, at 6:08 am, Helen and Anthony were probably
still snuggled warmly in their bed under extra blankets and completely unaware
of what the beautiful cold morning had wrought on their recycling. (And, in
fact, they are actually very kind, very generous and very loving neighbors, who
always invite us to their post-Thanksgiving Crab-fast!)
Back to the parable. When Mr. 1-talent Servant accuses the
master of being a “hard man who reaps where he does not sow,” I wonder if that
servant isn’t actually projecting his own hardening heart onto a master who, it
seems at the beginning of the parable, is actually very generous and trusting. According to scholars, a “talent” was
actually a huge sum of money –worth about 15+ years labor. So, this master
handed that first servant the equivalent of about 75 years salary and asked the
servant to take care of it for him. (My
first thought wouldn’t have been to invest it, it would possibly have been to
get on the next camel caravan headed to Switzerland!) So, the master wasn’t acting hard or selfish
when he handed out the talents to his servants.
He entrusts huge sums of money to his servants, and then he shares with
them the profits. So, why does the
1-talent servant call him hard? Because
the servant himself has become hard.
If we share the gifts God gives us, we find that they are
returned to us doubled, and our vision of God will (I imagine) expand as well;
but if we bury our gifts we lose them and as we do we will find our spirit
shrinking, our hardening hearts blaming God and our vision of God embittered
and growing resentful and scrupulous.
Be your gift! Become the gift God made you to be, and no
amount of oil or lamps will matter because you will set the world on fire (St.
Catherine of Siena); you will light the world!
But bury your gift and the world seems to grow dark and cold and hard –and
in that darkness, you can too easily lose your way, and then where will you be?
Somewhere sad, bitter and lonely, haunted by the sound of much “weeping and the
gnashing of teeth.”
Postscript: As I was coming back to the house, I saw a largish
opened box in the middle of my next door neighbor’s lawn. My first thought wasn’t
about recycling or bins, but of Christmas.
I looked at that simple, empty, open brown box and thought –What an
interesting Christmas lawn-decoration. Way to go, Anna! I like it. Simple.
Subtle. And much easier to maintain than her wobbly giant inflatable Santa on a train.
Sometimes what you see depends less on
what it is, than the way you look at it.
