A series of University Sermons entitled

THE ONE WITH MANY NAMES

Jesus’ metaphors for God

(The ninth sermon in a series of eleven)

The trusting globetrotter

by John Bodycomb

 

Scripture

Matthew 25:14-30

This is the parable of the three servants.  God is likened to a 'trusting globetrotter, who hands over the management of his affairs to others.

 

For someone like me, who prefers everything in order, going away can generate high anxiety.  Security of house and contents, care of the garden, paying the bills; all those things can get me rattled.  My study leave in November-December was such a time.

Fortunately, arrangements worked well.  Three women students 'house sat', a young man needing some money undertook the outside work, and my daughter Janet agreed to pay the mortgage and other recurring bills.  When we returned, the house was immaculate, the lawns looked their best in years, and a few dollars were left from the money I had given Janet.

In today's metaphor Jesus likens God to a trusting globetrotter.  There are three short 'scenes'.

So what does it all mean?

1. God's trust in humanity

First, this is a parable about God's trust in humanity!  The message is very different from last week's, in which human beings are likened to one of the most dim-witted farm animals!  Don't say you weren't warned!  In the first of the series I said,

Something else we need to recognise is that Jesus' 'metaphorical' ways of talking about God don't always seem to be totally consistent with each other ... if we look to the teaching of Jesus (or the scriptures in toto for that matter) for one simple and straight-forward, totally coherent and consistent doctrine of God, that may be forcing what's there to fit with what we want to find.

The extent of the trust is evident in two ways.  First, in what is handed over.  We're not talking 'pocket money'.  The trusting globetrotter hands over everything he owns.  Second, in the period of time.  It's not a twenty-four hour jaunt, like the first time you left your teenagers unsupervised and went off with you fingers crossed.  Jesus says he goes away for 'much time'.

The hearers would have nodded their understanding of this metaphor.  It was already familiar, in the stories of creation.  There are two accounts of the creation in Genesis, from different traditions, but both making the point that God appoints the 'Adams Family' as farm managers.  It's unfortunate that this has been interpreted as giving them the right to do what they please.  That is not the intention of these stories.  Rather, it is that humanity should see the earth and 'all that is therein' as a sacred trust - to be managed in accord with the Owner's wishes.

But the point is clear.  In contrast with last week's metaphor of shepherd and sheep, perhaps implying a rather low estimate of humanity, these stories suggest that God has a very high estimate of human possibilities: that God is confident in the capacity of the Adams Family to look after the family estate.  This is good news: that even when I find it hard to believe in myself, God believes in me! 

 

2. Our accountability to God

Second, this is a parable about our accountability to God.  The globetrotter is not uninterested in the outcome of his handing over of responsibility.  He calls his trustees to account, and pronounces judgement on their activities.

Now let me take you back to the creation stories; specifically the second story in which earth is called 'the Garden of Eden': a lovely name, which means 'garden of delight'.  It is rich with exotic flora, including fruit-bearing trees.  There is ample water, a variety of minerals, and a great range of animal and bird life.  The story-teller says, 'The Lord God placed humanity in the Garden of Eden to cultivate it and guard it'.

So far, so good.  Too good to be true!  In the garden there's one tree that must be left strictly untouched; the farm managers are forbidden to eat from it.  This tree is the symbol of perfect, unflawed judgment in all things.  God says, 'I'm the only one who can claim that'.  Enter the snake, who says, 'You don't accept that, do you?  You can have perfect, unflawed judgment in all things.  Go for it!'

Back a little way in the story there is a key verse.  It says God brings to the Adams Family all the animals and birds, with instructions to name them.  In the Hebrew mind, 'name' means 'nature' - and that implies 'purpose' too.  In other words, God doesn't say, 'This is a merino, and this is a micro-organism, and this is a moose.  Merinos are for keeping the Australian economy afloat, micro-organisms are for amusing microbiologists, and mooses are for feeding Indians'.  On the contrary, God says, 'You decide how to organise this lot; how to ensure it all functions in the best possible way'.

And you know how the story proceeds.  As Harvey Cox of Harvard Divinity School put it so neatly,

Instead of faithfully naming the creatures whom God entrusts to him, cultivating the garden of the earth and enjoying its fruits, exercising dominion over the beasts, and living in reciprocity with his fellow men, he sells out.  The first thing he does is to let one of the animals tell him what to do.  He surrenders his position of privilege and responsibility.

(Harvey Cox, God's Revolution and Man's Responsibility, Valley Forge, Pa,: The Judson Press, 1965, pp.43-4.)

This really suggests a very different notion of 'sin' from what many of us were taught.  In this context 'sin' is fleeing from responsibility to make a difference in the world.  It is what the third trustee does: he 'abdicates'.

 

3. The meaning and value of human life

Third, this is a parable that speaks powerfully about the meaning and value of human life.

In January my wife and I spent some time in Europe, travelling through some seven countries.  When making arrangements, we were informed that a visa was required for entry to France.  This was not needed for any of the other countries, but apparently the French were more particular.  We did what we were told: lodged our applications, paid our money, and duly had our passports marked for entry to France.

Alighting at Calais, we had passports at the ready, found our way to the coach, and following instructions, remained in our seats at French immigration while our tour director went in to talk with them.  I was dusting off my disused French in case I had to say, 'Je ne suis pas 'espionne' ('I am not a spy').  Georges returned with a smile.  'They're all out for lunch.  We go straight through!'

Coming back into France at the Belgian border, we had ourselves and our passports ready for scrutiny.  This time, surely, we would all be quizzed.  'Where have you been?  What were you doing there?  Why do you wish to re-enter France?'  Can you guess?  All out to lunch again!  Once more, no questions asked, and straight through.

Although I was grateful for the speedy entry each time, I felt just a trifle let down.  We had done the right thing, and it didn't seem to matter to anyone.  If nobody cares two hoots, what is the point of carefully doing the right thing?  Do we matter?  Do our actions have any meaning if that is the case?

The message of this parable is not only that we matter, but that our actions are significant in the sight of God.  Now to the story with which I want to end.

On November 24 last year, I heard one of the most memorable sermons of my life.  The place was Memorial Church, Harvard.  The preacher was Harold Kushner, rabbi with the Jewish congregation at Natick, and author of the best-seller When Bad Things Happen to Good People.  Rabbi Kushner had been invited to preach as part of Memorial Church's commitment to improving Jewish-Christian relations.  The sermon was entitled 'To what questions is God the answer?'  This story formed a part of it.

I remember many years ago seeing a program on television (I believe it was on The Twilight Zone) about a man who died and woke up a moment later at the end of a long line.  And at the front of the line are two doors: one marked 'heaven' and one marked 'hell'.  And there's an usher, and the usher says, 'Keep the line moving.  Move right along.  Choose either door and walk through'.  And the man says, 'Wait a minute!  Where's the last judgement?  Where am I told if I was a good person or a bad person?'

The usher says, 'You know, I don't know where that story ever got started.  We don't do that here.  We've never done that here.  We don't have the staff to do that here.  I mean, look, a thousand people arrive every minute.  Do you seriously expect me to sit down with everyone and go over their whole life?  We would never get anywhere.  Now you're holding up the line.  Please choose either door and go in already.'

The man says, 'No, wait!  Where am I told if I did more good deeds or more bad deeds?'  And the usher says, 'I'm trying to tell you - no place!  Now move it, please!'

And the man walks through the door marked 'hell'!  Do you understand why?  Do you get the message of that little parable?  It's not that he wants to be condemned.  It's that he wants to be judged.  We have this need to know that we are judged, so that we will feel we are taken seriously.  It is only that sense of being subject to judgment; it is only that that redeems our life from insignificance and makes us different from the animals.  And so one of the issues that God is the answer to is the question 'What does it matter?  What difference does it make how we live?'

For the Bible, the question the atheist asks is not 'Does God exist?'  But 'Does God see?  Does God care?  Does it make a difference?'  And we affirm that how we live makes all the difference.

That is just what Jesus says in his metaphor of 'the trusting globetrotter'!

 

 

Reproduced here on the Warragul Uniting Church web site with the permission of the author,
Rev Dr John Bodycomb -2004.