First United Methodist Church
Birmingham, Michigan
Scriptures: Matthew 25: 14-30
There ought to be a law against preaching from the Gospel of Matthew in the summertime. For Matthew's version of things is always darker and more foreboding than other versions of the same things. There is, for example, more judgment in the Gospel of Matthew than in any other book of the New Testament, save for the Book of Revelation. All of the harsh images are there in Matthew: fire; worms; the outer darkness; weeping; wailing and the gnashing of teeth. Matthew is full of this.
What's more, Matthew violates one of the cardinal rules of good preaching. This is the rule which says: "If you have a negative thing to say and a positive thing to say, put the negative first." Send them home on some good news. You clean off the lot and then you build. You don't build and then clean off the lot. But Matthew does the opposite. He ends on the negative.
Consider the Sermon on the Mount. Where do you find it? In Matthew, that's where. Wonderful stuff. Three marvelous chapters of teaching. But how does Matthew finish it off? With a story about a wise man and a foolish man. Each man built a house. One built on a rock. One on sand. How does it close? Not with the wise man who built his house on the rock. That's how I would have finished the story. Not Matthew. He closes with the house built on sand. The rains come. The winds howl. And the last visualization of the whole Sermon on the Mount, is that of a house and all of its contents floating downstream. That's Matthew for you.
Or consider Matthew's telling of the story of the ten virgins. Five are wise. Five are foolish. All are waiting for the bridegroom. Good preaching form would suggest that Matthew tell about the foolish ones first. This would enable the preacher to end with a story of the wise virgins, finishing on a rising crescendo of affirmation, which would leave everyone with the memory of a positive example ringing in their ears as they rise to sing the final hymn. But how does Matthew tell it? He gives us a closing scene of five foolish maidens, blood on their knuckles, banging on a locked door.
Or consider another of the stories that are unique to Matthew. The setting is a banquet. A wedding banquet. We are feeling good about the banquet. Why? Because the messenger has gone out to the highways and byways, the streets and the lanes, bringing in everybody. The good the bad and the ugly, all are sitting down to eat. That's good news. And just as they are about to plunge a chilled fork into the salad, the host arrives. He looks over the crowd. He spots a man without a wedding garment on. He walks over and says: "Friend, how did you get in here?" The man is speechless. Wouldn't you be? Whereupon the host calls to the bouncer and says: "Throw him out." Just like that. "Throw him out." That's how the story ends.
Why does Matthew do that? Why does he feel a need to recast many of Jesus' stories so that they end on a downer? There can be only one answer. It is because Matthew is so concerned about what he finds, or what he does not find, in the church of his day, that he feels it his duty to warn them. Justifiable or not. True to the merciful elements of the Gospel or not. Good preaching technique or not. Good news or not. That's what he does. Comes on strong. Comes down hard. Warns. Judges. Which is why Matthew ought to be out-of-bounds for summer. Matthew is too heavy for summer. Keep things light and airy in the summer. After all, people don't have to come. They could just as well make a pitcher of ice tea and sit by the pool. I'll have to think about that.
But in the meantime, we have this text from Matthew with which to contend. It is more familiar than the others I have mentioned. It is also harder to like. Concerning this story, Fred Craddock writes:
"There is a kind of shocking discomfort about Matthew's telling of the parable of the talents. It has the judgment, which I have come to expect in Matthew. It closes with the punishment, I have come to expect in Matthew. There has also been a success story or two. Five made ten. Two made four. But the emphasis is not on those who succeeded. The emphasis is on the one who buried it. I am even ready for that in Matthew. What I am not ready for in Matthew, or in any other writer who concerns himself with the Gospel of Jesus Christ, is to say that anybody is going to be bound hand and foot and thrown into the outer darkness (with weeping and gnashing of teeth) simply because they said to the Lord: "I was afraid. I did what I did because I was scared.'"
And I am right with him. So are you. We're all uncomfortable. Why? Because we're all afraid. Some of us are more afraid than others. But we're all afraid to some degree. I wonder why.
It's not that we were born that way. I think it was in my first college psychology textbook that I saw that picture of a babysitting in the high chair. Locking the baby firmly into place is the little tray that slides in and out, the one on which you put the cereal before the baby puts the cereal in his hair. But there is, in this picture, no dish of cereal on that tray. What there is, instead of the cereal, is a coiled snake. And it is clear from the expression on the face of the baby that there is no fear there.
I am afraid of snakes. So are many of you. But we weren't born that way. We had to learn most of our fears. People helped us along by saying things like: "Watch it...look out...don't touch this... don't do that... don't go there... uh-uh-uh..." And many of those messages saved our lives. But some of those messages also scarred our lives.
Some of our fears were taught quite unintentionally. If I take my kids and crawl under the bed during a storm, it isn't going to make much difference if I say: "Now don't be afraid." I've already sent a message to the contrary.
My father was afraid of the water. I don't have the faintest idea why. I never saw him swim in it, or even wade in it. I can't remember seeing him in a boat more than a few times, and then never without a pained look on his face. And while I do not totally share his fear, I recognize that it was a part of my early learning that I had to overcome. And, to this day, I do not dive head first into water.
Sometimes fear can be exhilarating. Listen to a group of kids exiting from a thrill ride at Cedar Point. "I was scared to death. Weren't you? I thought I was going to die. I felt like I was going to lose my breath. I felt like I was going to lose my lunch. Wow! You want to do it again? Yeah, let's do it again."
What's wrong with being afraid? Go back to our text. The frightened servant says to Jesus: "Here! Take your money back. I buried it because I was afraid." What's the problem here? It's not just the fear. Nowhere does the Master say: "Shame on you, you shouldn't have been afraid." Instead, the Master says: "Look, if you were afraid, why didn't you just put my money in the bank. That way I would have gotten it back with interest. The fact is, you let your fear paralyze you... immobilize you... control you. It's not your fear. Of course you're afraid. But your fear became the governing factor of your life, so much so that you considered doing nothing a victory."
Pistons versus the Celtics. Game four of the series. Pistons are up two games to one. What we have is a chance to put the Celtics in a terrible hole. The game is at the Silverdome. Memorial Day. Monday afternoon. Forty thousand people in the stands. The entire nation watching on TV. And what do the Pistons do? They stink up the joint. They lose- the game... the home court advantage.., the favorite's role... and the respect of their fans. They score but ten points in the first quarter. More importantly, they score but ten points in the last quarter, when thanks to the nearly equal ineptitude of the Celtics, the game was still there to be won. In the locker room after the game, with the rafters draped in crepe. Isiah Thomas said: "We were not playing to win. We were playing not to lose."
What did I say a moment ago? Sometimes fear becomes such a dominant factor in our lives, that we consider doing nothing a victory. We play not to lose.
Can you imagine a politician so consumed with the fear of not being elected, that no mailings are sent. "After all, I may not get elected. If I send all these letters, think of the bill I'll be stuck with." No radio or television spots are purchased. "After all air time is expensive. What if I am not elected?" No campaign workers go out with circulars to place on windshields of cars in the parking lot. "After all, what if I am not elected? I could end up owing hundreds of thousands of dollars." Then the election is held. The politician is not elected. He is heard to say: "Thank goodness, I don't have that huge bill."
Imagine a businessman, similarly consumed by fear, going into the grocery business. "You know, if I rent a building on a main street. I'll be out a lot of money." So he rents a little place on an alley. Then he says to himself: "You know, if I bring in a lot of produce and it doesn't sell, I could be left holding the bag." So he gets a few dark bananas, a couple of cabbage heads, and a can of peas. "You know, those electric cash registers that do everything including talk to people, those things are expensive." So he gets himself a cigar box. Then he says: "You know, you can't pay people today at the wages they want." He gets his brother-in-law to run things. Then he takes a crayon and letters on a piece of cardboard: "Open for business." Misspells "business." The store fails. He goes home and says to his wife: "Congratulations, woman, you're married to a wise man. You and I could have been out a lot of money."
Can you imagine a minister in this church, or any other church, going home and saying to the spouse: "Congratulations. We just went another week without anything happening."
Fear! It permeates every other crippling emotion we know. What is jealousy, if not the fear that you will leave me the first time someone more attractive comes along? What is greed, if not the fear that if I don't stuff away everything I can get my hands in the good times, I will have nothing to fall back on in the bad times? What is anxiety, if not the fear of failing.., or losing.. or dying? Especially dying.
"Child, why did you lie to me?"
"Because I was afraid."
"Student, why did you cheat on this exam?"
"Because I was afraid."
"Servant, why did you bury my treasure?"
"Because I was afraid."
Afraid! I was out mowing the lawn. It was about a week or so ago. And I looked up to see a nine pound sparrow walking down the street. I said: "Aren't you kind of heavy for a sparrow?" He said: "That's why I am out walking, trying to get a little of this weight off." I said: "Why don't you fly?" "Fly." he cried. "I've never flown. Seems to me that lots of things can happen to you when you fly. What do you think I am?" So I asked him what his name was. He said: "Mr. Church. My name is Mr. Church."
"Not along ago," says Fred Craddock. "my wife was away. I figured I'd have one of my big meals while she was gone. So I stopped into the Winn-Dixie Supermarket to get me a jar of peanut butter. But I didn't know where they kept the peanut butter. They have so much stuff in these supermarkets nowadays, and they change things around all the time, that you never can find anything. I tried to read the generic signs that they hang midway down each aisle. But I have yet to see one of those signs that says 'peanut butter.' Besides it was about 5:30 when I got to the store, which meant that the place was filled with people.
So I happened upon a women pushing a cart. She looked like she must be at home here. So I said to her: 'Pardon me, ma'am, could you tell me where the peanut butter is?'
She looked around at me and said: 'Are you trying to bit on me?'
So I said: 'Lady. I'm just looking for the peanut butter.' And just about that time a stock boy came along. He must have overheard part of the conversation, because he mumbled in passing: 'Peanut butter... aisle 5... about halfway down on the left.' So I went to aisle 5... halfway down on the left. And there it was. Right where he said. So I got me a big jar of peanut butter. And suddenly along came the woman with the
shopping cart. She looked at me and said: 'You really were looking for the peanut butter.'
I said: 'I told you I was looking for the peanut butter.' And she said: 'Well, nowadays you can't be too careful.' And I said: 'Lady, yes you can. Yes, you can.'"
The world tells us to "take care." And Jesus tells us to "take care." But strange, isn't it? When the world says "take care." it means one thing. And when Jesus says "take care." it means something altogether different. The world says: "Better safe than sorry." And Jesus says: "No way."
"You should have multiplied what I gave you. You should have worked it, ventured it, risked it, advanced it, taken it further."
A little boy fell out of bed one night. His daddy heard the thud and hurried to his rescue. Fortunately, little harm was done. The next morning his daddy said to him at breakfast: "Why do you think you fell out of bed last night?" And the little boy said: "I think it was because I stayed too close to where I got in."
Which is why most of us fall from bed... from grace... from life itself... with a thud... to the floor.., to the bottom... or even to the outer darkness, wherever that may be.
