My Endowment of Talents

I'm sitting in a math class, acting as co-teacher, for a bunch of 8th grade pre-algebra students.  I'm thinking about the parable of the talents, from Matthew 25, which I referenced yesterday at Mr. Center's Wall.  Since I'm in a math class, and I'm not really talking about talents (neither money nor the abilities we, in English, call "talents"), rather talents as a metaphor for some--whatever--endowment from God, I will change "talents" to n.  So, new title: "My Endowment of n".  The detailing I didn't do there on the other blog, I need to do here, and I'm not talking about East of Eden.

I was in primary on Sunday with my class of 7-8 year-olds when I think I finally understood--really understood--what's being talked about in this parable.  I like to think that I've been generally pretty good at "getting it" when it comes to parables, but I've pretty much entirely missed the point on this one my entire life.  I wouldn't have "gotten it," I think, were I not in my current position in life, and had I not seen one certain punk driving to high school this morning who cut me off in his slick little BMW (spoiled punk kid with foolish parents, of whom I'm actually a little bit jealous, though I'd be more comfortable not admitting that or dwelling on it).

Like in a previous post, and building from James' comment, I can't help but think when I see people with clear demonstrations of padded living: why not me?  I'm smart.  I'm talented.  Most likely I'm smarter and more talented than they or their parents.  Why don't I have a slick little BMW (or Porsche)?  (So in addition to envy, I'm also guilty of pride; I'm working on it.  I've still got time.)

The question is silly; the implications, I think, are less so.

So the parable. 

The "ah-ha" came with the first line: "For the kingdom of heaven is a man traveling into a far country...."  Ah!  Metaphor.  My kind of thing!  So who's the man?  The Lord.  What's the Lord do before he leaves?  He gives his stuff to his servants.  Who are his servants?  Us.  Where did he go?  Well, let's restate the question. Let's say instead, Where has he left us?  On Earth.  Basically alone, or at least without his interference, and with our agency instead.  So, we're on Earth with his stuff, and he's not here.  What are we going to do with his stuff? 

That's where the rest of the story comes in, plus its application.

To one guy--or, to some people on Earth--the Lord gave a whole lot; to other people, he gave a little less; and to other people, he hardly gave anything, yet he gave "TO EVERY MAN ACCORDING TO HIS SEVERAL ABILITY."  In other words, the Lord gives us what we can handle.  How this translates to--or between--material possessions, location of birth, socio-economics, race, intelligence, spiritual gifts, and so on, I have no idea, and I certainly can't interpret anything for other people.  I can, however, look pretty well at myself.

I just finished reading Mockingjay.  I really enjoyed it.  I nearly cried at the end.  And the end was brilliant, not just affecting.  Why can't I do that?  Dang it!  I want to create something big and brilliant and beautiful!  Well, maybe that's not one of my "talents" --maybe that's not included in my n.  Or not yet, anyway, as I prefer to think.  Why haven't I found--or it found me--a job that will really take full advantage of my "several abilities"?  I don't know.  Maybe it's just not part of my n.  Why hasn't a Porsche miraculously appeared in my garage aside my Honda....

As life-changes tend to do, I've had a pretty drastic re-organization of my personal priorities since losing my job.  I've talked about that a lot here.  The sum of those aforementioned parts: When it comes right down to it, who cares what I've got; it doesn't bleeding matter.  The only thing that does matter is that I'm living in such a way as to accord myself with the Gospel--what God says I need to do and be.  If I can do that, well, that's the whole point of life, right?  Everything else is just decoration, especially things like sweet cars and cushy jobs or even publishing a novel.  Extra.  Bonus.  Even if I had them, I woudln't take them with me.

And the three servants in the parable of the talents don't take their endowments with them (unless they were spiritual or knowledge-based endowments); they, the endowments, nor their increase, are not the servants' anyway.  The master takes them back!  The guy who said, "Screw it.  I'm not doing anything!"  And hid his candle under a bushel or didn't bother learning the Gospel or magnifying his callings in the church or having/caring for a/his family or whatever else, well, he gets cast into outer freaking darkness!  The other two, regardless of how much they received or produced (it's enough that they were productive!) will now receive "abundance"!  What's abundance?  Well, by context, I can't help but think that it happens to be an inheritance in the Kingdom of Heaven.  They make it.  What else is there?

It's not about how much I've got; it's what I do with it.  What am I doing? 

My best.