you will note that we are described as servants, more accurately, as slaves. That is not the only word you can use of Christians. We shall see in a moment that, in any case the slave of Christ is an uncommon kind of slave. Yet this is one word for Christians and it has the sanction of being used by Jesus himself, and it is supported by many things he said. What it means is he claims our service, and that he has a right to claim it. He is not going to be put off by a pious “lord, lord.” There is only one way, he says to secure a well-founded life; and that is not merely to hear but to obey his word. He sets our tasks, and if we mean to be Christians at all, we do them. He has left us in the world to further his interests and care for his cause.
But that is only one side of the picture. When the master was about to depart, he summoned his slaves and handed over to them his own belongings. Christ has left us his work to do, but he has also left us his resources for doing it. What Jesus was empowered with for doing his work he has handed over to us. It would be easily possible to fill up the rest of the sermon with an attempt to do justice to the gifts he has passed on. At the beginning of his ministry he was equipped with the Spirit for his work. He has handed on the same transforming, enabling Spirit to us. He had an unparalleled gift of prayer, the believing prayer that has immediate access to God. This gift of prayer he hands on to his servants. He speaks specifically of his peace, and his joy, as things that he handed on to his disciples. He had on his lips the Word of God, and this too he has committed to us, so that through human lips the divine word can still be heard and the message of redeeming love made known. The parable then, is about the servants of Christ, uniquely privileged servants, but still servants from whom he expected service.
THE SERVICE OF THE SERVANTS
What does Christ expect them to do? He certainly looks for service; but what does this mean? You may take the answer straight out of the parable. The master handed over his belongings to the slaves, but this was evidently not that they might spend his money on themselves and enjoy a good time in his absence. He expected them to use his resources as he would have used them himself. That is our answer. All that I was saying a moment ago is true—Christ has handed over wonderful gifts to his servants for which they should be ceaselessly thankful. But they are not gifts which they are intended to spend simply on themselves. They are to be used as Jesus himself used them. How did he use them? You know the answer as soon as I ask the question. If he received the Spirit, it was not that he might enjoy it by himself. He took up the Old Testament word—“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach the Gospel to the poor. He has sent me to preach release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind.” If Jesus had such a marvelous gift of prayer that he could spend whole nights in prayer with God, when day broke, he would come down the mountainside to deal with the suffering multitudes below.
If Jesus has shared his gifts with his servants it is that we may use them for his glory, in the way he used them himself. If he has planted faith in our hearts, it is for us to spread this faith among all people. If he has shown us in his own life the measure of love, it is for us not simply to contemplate love, but to practice it. Don’t misunderstand what I have just said. It does not mean that we must all be preachers or welfare workers. The parable insists on variety. Not all the Lord’s servants are the same. We have different gifts, and we serve him in different ways. Whether or not human beings are born equal, they are certainly born different. There are men and there are women; and there are things a man can do and a woman can’t, and there are things a woman can do that a man can’t. There are things a man with a tough healthy body can do that an invalid can’t; and there are things an invalid can do that a healthy man cannot do, and so on.
I suspect that this was one of the things the “unprofitable servant” failed to see. He was a man with minimum endowment; and he said, “I can’t do what the other fellows do; I might as well attempt nothing at all.” This is a common attitude, and it is wrong. A week or two ago a soloist in a service I conducted, sang “Balm in Gilead.” He sang it beautifully and it is a moving song, but one part of it is dead wrong—
If you can preach like Peter,If you can pray like Paul Go down and tell your neighbor He died to save them all.
The truth is: You can’t preach anything like as well as Peter or pray like Paul, they were five talent men. And Christ does not expect you to do what he did. But that is no reason why you should not make the contribution you can make. Still more however, the unprofitable servant was afraid. “I know you,” he says, “and I was afraid. I was afraid that if I took risks, I should lose the little bit of faith and love I have. I could only try to keep them safe.” “You’ve got it wrong,” says the Master, “I didn’t ask you to do anything hard. You only needed to take the money to the savings bank, not to become a great financier.”
Christ is our Master, but he is not a hard Master. His yoke is easy and his burden is light. Christ asks nothing you cannot do. Most of us he calls to stay simply where we are, allowing the light to shine that he has kindled within us, allowing the love to live that he has created in our hearts. It is the story of Naaman again; God asks the little thing. Out of that, more may grow, but that is no anxiety for us. This leads to, thirdly—
THE REWARDS OF THE SERVANTS
The answer to this is simple and short. Every Christian grace you share with another is doubled. Venture prodigally with your faith and your love, and you will find them increasing all the time. Shut them up, treat them as a secret possession and they will wither into nothing. Take a simple test of this. You can easily try it if you are my age or older. You must have known people in your youth who were Christians and now have left the Church. Where would you look for such people? Among say, the few who sacrificed everything to become missionaries or among those who came and sat in Church once a week and were careful to do nothing more? You know the answer to that.
The punishment for not using your talent is loss of it. This is true everywhere; in music for example, it is true here. The reward for faithful and responsible service is—more service. “You were faithful over a few things, I will put you over many.” There is a glimpse here of what heaven is like. It is not rest—in the sense of doing nothing. It is increased responsibility and broadened opportunities for service. That is why it is joy, like the service of Christ, the life of universal self-giving love. It happens in a sense in every service, every Sunday morning. Christ calls up his service, and looks them up and down. “Five talents for you; two for you, for you, bless you, one—but don’t fail to use it for me.” With the gifts he offers us the joy of service here; and there is only one joy greater than that—the joy of eternal service in heaven.
“JUDAS, PILATE, AND HIS WIFE”—Matthew 27.3–5
[Preached nine times from 4/12/79 at South Shields to 3/31/96 at Milbank]
There are three texts; they are about three people. They are all as different as they can be. Judas, the Jew, disciple of Jesus, betrayer; Pilate, prefect of the Roman province of Judaea; and Pilate’s wife, different from the others not least because she was a woman. These three people have one thing in common. They all wanted to opt out of the crucifixion. No wonder; it is a grim story, grimmer still when you remember it is not just a story but a fact. It is, I think, since last Good Friday that I have read Martin Hengel’s little book on crucifixion—simply an account based on all the ancient evidence, of what crucifixion was really like. It is a terrible book. Fortunately, it is a work of scholarship for if a good deal of the evidence were not wrapped up in Greek and Latin quotations it might be facing a charge of obscene cruelty.
And this is what the Gospels, the relevant portions of them, are about. They can hardly be called the literature of escape. The sensitive reader will not want to escape to them, he will want to escape from them. That brings us back to where we started—three people who found this bit of real life so horrible that they wanted to get
