The end of one liturgical year shades gracefully into another. At the end of each liturgical year, we call to mind the end of time, the so-called eschaton or parousia. This culminates, of course, with the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.
Even though it is a relatively short season, Advent begins in the same vein. It begins by reminding us that we are waiting for Christ's return. With the Third Sunday in Advent, the season takes a turn. We turn from looking ahead (toward the not-yet of Christ's return) to looking back (the already- the Incarnation of the Son of God).
On this penultimate (Sorry, I can't pass up the opportunity to use that word) Sunday of this Year of Grace, we hear Saint Paul, in what is likely the first book of the New Testament to be written, telling the Christians of ancient Thessaloniki that there is no way to know when Christ will return. He insists that it could happen at any time.
Indeed, the earliest Christians thought Jesus's return was imminent. One of the things that prompted Paul to write this letter was the fact that the Thessalonian Christians were growing anxious because the Lord had not yet returned. First Thessalonians was written in about 50 AD. Knowing the Lord could return at any time should prompt the believer to remain "alert and sober." To live after the manner of the Gospel and then simply trust in God.
Last week I used the story of Saint Francis of Assisi tending his garden. Martin Luther made a similar observation that is worth noting: "Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree." Planting the apple tree, you see, is an act of hope.
This segues nicely into the point of our Gospel for this week. Our reading immediately precedes the sobering account of Jesus's return to judge the living and the dead as set forth by the inspired author of Matthew's Gospel. "Talents are equal to several years; wages" (The Jewish Annotated New Testament, footnote to Matthew 25:14-30, Aaron M. Gale, 57). So, even one talent was a relatively large sum of money. Apparently, it was not unusual in ancient times for people to bury money to keep it safe from thieves. Of course, putting money in the ground yields a poor return on investment.
To invest in anything, even in something as simple as planting an apple tree, is an act of hope. It is hopeful because one invests with the idea that the future bodes well for the investment. In other words, the investor deems her investment to be worth it. At the heart of the parable that constitutes our Sunday Gospel is a metaphor. Jesus is not speaking about money. He is speaking about our God-given gifts.
The homiletic point, therefore, is the exhortation to place your gifts and talents at the service of the Church and the world for the sake of God's Kingdom. Elsewhere in scripture we read: "As each one has received a gift, use it to serve one another as good stewards of God’s varied grace" (1 Peter 4:10).
As you can see, scripture assumes you have gifts, that is, resources and abilities to share and to give. So, it is not a question of whether or not you have anything to give. You do! How a gift is appreciated, enjoyed, developed is by using it. It has been said that your talents are given to you by God and that your use of these is your gift back to God.
In its Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, the Second Vatican Council had this to say about the laity:
by their very vocation, [they] seek the kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and by ordering them according to the plan of God. They live in the world, that is, in each and in all of the secular professions and occupations. They live in the ordinary circumstances of family and social life, from which the very web of their existence is woven. They are called there by God that by exercising their proper function and led by the spirit of the Gospel they may work for the sanctification of the world from within as a leaven (sec. 31)This is not some third-rate, knock-off, consolation prize vocation. In a very real sense, there is only one Christian vocation: follow Christ.
Through baptism, Christ calls you to follow him. You receive a special outpouring of the Holy Spirit at confirmation to heed this call. This call is renewed in every Eucharist, at the end of which you are sent to make the risen Lord present wherever you go- this is your mission. There is also the state of life through which you live out heed Christ's call to follow him: marriage, orders, religious life, being single. As indicated in Lumen Gentium, what you do for a living should also be a way of following Christ.
We must never forget that it is baptism, along with confirmation, which deepens and strengthens it, that is the fundamental sacrament of the Christian life, not the sacrament of orders. Those of us who are ordained are put at the service of the rest of the baptized. This is why all in orders are first ordained deacons.
Just as there is a priesthood of all the baptized, there is also a diaconate of all the baptized. Observing the commandment to love your neighbor as you love yourself puts you at the service (i.e., diakonia) of your neighbor. By using your God-given gifts you engage in diakonia. Diakonia is kenotic, meaning it is something done sacrificially. It is a recognition that God's gift are not given to you solely, or even primarily, to benefit yourself. Using your gifts for the sake of God's Kingdom represents your investment in its full realization. It is an act of ultimate hope, especially when your efforts don't seem to yield much fruit.
This week's readings should prompt the question for each one of us- How can I better love and glorify God by serving my neighbor? Given that we're about to begin a new Year of Grace, it's an ideal time to ponder this question, to seek an answer, and commit or recommit to living in this peculiar way.
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