Under Judgement

My Sunday sermon for the 2nd Sunday before Advent, based on I Thessalonians 5.1-11 and Matthew 25.14-30 :-

We may not much like the thought of standing under judgement, but that’s the theme of our readings today. My only experience of a courtroom has been attending an immigration tribunal to support a friend - an artist and musician - whose application to remain in the country was being considered. And that was scary enough, even though everyone was very friendly and the application was approved without any real issue. 

But the new Christian churches of the first century were looking forward eagerly to what they called “the Day of the Lord” - the coming judgement. They believed that that day was really close at hand. In fact, at that time the imminent end of all things was expected by many people, and so there were those, members of all religions or none, who were looking for signs and clues, patterns of numbers that might predict the hour and the day. But in our first reading Paul recognises that the folk he’s writing to in Thessalonica aren’t like that. You know as well as I do, he tells them, that we can’t know the hour or the day - these things will happen at the least expected time - so as God’s people we need to be always ready and watchful and prepared.

Some people today still play with numbers and look for clues and signs. They may search through the Bible - the Book of Revelation or the Book of Daniel - or maybe they look for clues in the writings of Nostradamus or the sayings of Mother Shipton. I remember many years ago being assured by a somewhat excitable person that the world was due to end in 1986: he produced a series of complex, lengthy and entirely spurious calculations that he told me proved his case. But, needless to say, we made it through to 1987 OK! 

Those who worry that the world is about to end today are likely to be more influenced by Covid, global warming or nuclear arsenals than by scripture. But I still want to take seriously the imagery of judgement in our Bibles, even if I apply more to my own life, and at some point to my own death, than to any idea of the whole world all ending at once. 

For I think what Jesus says retains its meaning, its power and its immediacy, when I apply it to myself. “This is what the day of the Lord will be like,” he says, and I should listen, for will have to face that day. One of the most constant themes in the teaching of Jesus and the stories he tells is that there is a reckoning. One day we’ll have to answer for ourselves; one day we’ll have to face up to the reality of what we have done, and what we’ve failed to do, with what God has entrusted to us.

So I want to take today’s Gospel reading seriously. Three servants are each entrusted with bags of their master’s gold. You’ll recall that some translations use the word “talent” here, and a talent was a measure of silver or gold, maybe 25 kilos or more in today’s weight. So it’s this parable that’s given the word talent its present-day meaning as a natural or special gift, an ability or aptitude. We’ll be judged, says Jesus, according what we’ve made of ourselves. We’ll be judged by how we’ve used or failed to use the gifts we’ve been given.

The different servants are given different amounts of gold; the gifts we have vary, the opportunities we have vary - and more is expected of those who are given more. But all of us are given some measure of talent - of gift, ability, opportunity, and of course wealth. And right at the start of the story we see that though these are given to each servant to use as he chooses, they also remain the property of the master who gives them.

So, says Paul to the Thessalonians, “We mustn’t be asleep, like the rest - we must keep awake and sober.” Those words apply to me too. And you. We should be making the most of the gift of life and what life has to offer. We should enjoy God’s world, and each day we spend in it, and we should at the same time be alive to every opportunity we have to use our time and talents in God’s service, in fellowship, service, sharing, giving. As a friend once said to me: “My main ambition is to leave my bit of the world a better place than I found it.” Amen to that.

As you enter via the main door to my former parish church at Holy Trinity,  Minsterley, you’ll see above you some slightly macabre memento mori - based I think on one of Wren’s churches in London. Carved in the stone lintel are hour glasses with the sands of time running through, and some skulls and crossbones. My children used to think that maybe the church had been built by pirates, but no: the point of memento mori, reminders of death, is to remind those who come to worship of the lateness of the hour, and the urgency of the task. 

But we should also be reminded of this: that whenever we come to worship we come to meet Christ, as a friend, as the friend who invites us to share the fellowship of his holy table. We don’t have to dread the coming judgement, because though we may not have completely succeeded in life, what we’re judged on is not our success rate, nor how many times we’ve failed, but whether we’ve kept trying, and kept the faith: whether we’ve persevered. Christ died to free us from the impact of our sin; and as we’re judged, we’re also loved. And within that love is the promise of life. We link ourselves to that promise both by our worship and by living lives that reflect and convey and share his life and love.

Throughout his letters to different churches, one of Paul’s most constant themes is that to be a Christian is to dedicate our life as a thank offering to Christ. He alone can save us, and lift from us the burden of judgement. So it’s in thanksgiving for what we already have that we offer ourselves, our time and talents, to God. And as we do so, his love will be our guide and strength. So let’s not hide away, or hoard away, what God gives us to use in his service. For a talent used is a talent which grows, while a talent hidden away can only be wasted. Let’s live our lives to the praise and glory of God.