All Saints Episcopal Church, Thomasville

Trinity 25, 2005

"Thou wicked and slothful serva...

For to every one who has will more be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who has not, even what they have will be taken away."

(St. Matthew 25)

One of the more terrifying passages in the Bible appears in the third chapter of Revelation. God has instructed St. John to write to the Church of Laodocea, a church which has been suffocating itself with the sin of sloth. And John writes to them these words from God: "I know your works; I know that you are neither hot nor cold. Would that you were hot or could. Therefore since you are neither hot nor cold, I will spew you out of my mouth." Some of the newer translations render that last phrase in even more colorful language.

Dante was so moved by this one passage, that when he came to write his Inferno, he accomplished a masterstroke. Just as Dante and Virgil enter the boundaries of hell (before they enter the first circle proper), they encounter a group of people called the "vilta" or pusillanimous: those souls who never stood for or against a single thing in their entire lives. They had no gumption; no backbone. No desire to speak for or against goodness or evil. They are in essence the slothful scum of the earth - in no way fit for Heaven, and not even fit for hell. Virgil tells Dante that their tears are food for worms, and that we should do nothing, but "Look thou, and pass."

When Dante got around to writing his Purgatorio, he classified the seven deadly or capital sins in three categories: pride, envy, and anger were "love perverted". Avarice, gluttony, and lust were love excessive. Sloth, which on Dante's scale rested right between the other two groups was love defective - and in its own way, greater and far more serious than the sins of the flesh as well as those sins of the spirit. As with the Church at Laodocea, sloth makes no stab at Heaven, nor does it make any effort toward hell. It is not laziness, but complete and total indifference to anything.

Sloth is the real canker of the spiritual life. Most of us think of this sin as residing in those whom we might be tempted to label "couch potatoes, but it's really far greater than laziness. The word behind sloth is accedia, which means an indifference if not an aversion to spiritual things. Nothing can be done about the slothful man - which is why the poet called it "love defective". All he wants is to be left alone to laze his miserable life away. All effort is distasteful to him, and he fears anything that looks like discipline.

Sloth is the spiritual gloom and heaviness which take the life out of our prayers, kills our emotion, and implants a distaste for spiritual things and finally renders us restless, listless, and unhappy. In time, the slothful man accomplishes nothing, and he condemns the will of God; ultimately his sin weighs him down to hell. And it is with this introduction in mind that I can begin to make sense of the Second Lesson, which apart from the Crucifixion and Resurrection, marks the penultimate climax of St. Matthew's gospel.

At first reading we might be tempted to think that Jesus is commending gambling, but a closer reading shows a significant difference between the personalities of the first two gentlemen, with that of the third. The first two, when given their gifts (their pounds or talents), immediately go off and use them to accomplish what they can. There is no hesitation, no sense of scheming. There is no wondering what God might be about in giving these gifts. They simply accept them with an unspoken gratitude, and use them to enrich their lives.

Such is not the case with the third man. He not only stalls, but far more serious, he questions God's motives. Perhaps even more dangerous, he recognizes the gravity, the magnitude, the seriousness, as well as the importance of these gifts, and yet in spite of it all, does nothing. Essentially, almost as if in spite, he turns his back upon God. This is why Jesus calls him not only slothful, but wicked.

We might be tempted to protest our Lord's use of the word "wicked". Of course if the talents given out were actually money, "wicked" really could be a difficult term to justify using. But Jesus isn't talking about making money or about our becoming lord over greater riches. He's talking about the virtues of faith, hope, and charity.

Every time we receive the sacrament of Holy Communion; indeed every time say our prayers, God gives us through the Holy Spirit His grace. The effect of this grace is to build up within us the virtues of faith, hope, and charity. With these gifts, we are to live our lives such that we might increase, strengthen, and enrich these gifts - and thereby glorify God. Faith can lead one to hope, and hope can and does lead one to charity. Faith sees God; hope follows God; and charity loves God.

These virtues are the greatest gift we Christians can receive, either in this life or the next. Thus the greatest tragedy for any human being is to ignore these gifts, because in ignoring them, we ignore God. We ignore His Son - and worse, we ignore His Crucifixion. This is where the man gets himself into trouble.

It is a theological fact that one cannot see God or know Him or believe Him apart from faith. It is also a theological and spiritual fact that one cannot have faith unless God gives it to him. But it is another fact that such faith cannot grow unless we take a chance, throw the dice, and actively work with it and use it. (Obviously this is the gambling aspect of the process.) And the way we gain more faith, apart form being present at the altar rail, is to use God's grace to gamble: to step out in sequentially larger acts of faith. Otherwise what faith we have will in time decay.

The more faith we have to see God, the more we will have the hope to follow Him, even through the most difficult of times. And God really does reward us on those occasions with more faith and hope. That is, he makes us master over more. And when Jesus talks about making us master over more, He means not only being master over the virtues, but more important, being master over ourselves.

Again, the third man failed to take God seriously. He would have been far better off to have flung his pound into the sea, rejecting it totally. Instead, knowing from whom it came, he simply did nothing. Either we renounce God and fling His gifts away, or we risk anything and everything for them.

In terms of dealing with such risk, I always find it helpful to look back on those times in my life - difficult times - when I've wondered whether I'd ever survive them. The fact that I did is not inconsiderable evidence that the virtues were at work then, whether I was aware of them or not.

But having survived those times, it becomes easier to gamble on those present and future occasions. It becomes easier to step out over the cliff, or to get out of the boat and really attempt to walk on the water. Certainly at these junctures we have to ask God for His assistance, but the asking alone is evidence of faith and hope working away, perhaps on overtime.

And, make no mistake; God will continue to increase these virtues in us, making us master over more. We may not be master over a lot of money. But more important, we'll be master over ourselves and not wandering aimlessly with no goal, no purpose - shifting forever with the wind and tide, overcome by sloth, and standing for nothing.

T. S. Eliot had to have had this passage in mind when he composed a portion of his lengthy poem: "Choruses from The Rock". I want to read an extended passage which I think you'll appreciate.

And the Spirit moved upon the face of the water.

And men who turned towards the light and were known of the light

Invented the Higher Religions; and the Higher Religions were good

And led men from light to light, to knowledge of Good and Evil.

But their light was ever surrounded and shot with darkness

As the air of temperate seas is pierced by the still dead breath of the Arctic Current;

And they came to an end, a dead end stirred with a flicker of life,...

Then came, at a predetermined moment, a moment in time and of time,

A moment not out of time, but in time, in what we call history...and that moment of time gave the meaning.

Then it seemed as if men must proceed from light to light, in the light of the Word,

Through out the Passion and Sacrifice saved in spite of their negative being;

Bestial as always before, carnal, self-seeking as always before,

Selfish and purblind as ever before,

Yet always struggling, always reaffirming, always resuming their march

On the way that was lit by the light;

Often halting, loitering, straying, delaying, returning, yet following no

But it seems that something has happened that has never happened

before: though we know not just when, or why, or how, or where.

That men both deny gods and worship gods,...

The Church disowned, the tower overthrown, the bells upturned, what have we to do

But stand with empty hands and palms turned upwards

In an age which advances progressively backwards.

When my mentor Fr. Ralston was asked to teach a course in modern poetry at Sewanee, he remarked how astounded he was that the twentieth century poets always wrote the poetry of death. And that sense of death is enshrined quite powerfully right here.

Beloved, never forget that God can deal with a cold heart of stone. But what is so much more difficult is for Him to deal with indifference (sloth) - the idea of men leaving God, for no gods, standing blankly with empty hands and palms turned upwards in an age which advances progressively backwards. There lies the way of death: having the gifts, the virtues, and doing nothing with them-leaving God for no god.

And, as Eliot reminds us, God can forever deal with our bestiality, our carnality, our self-seeking and selfish, purblind ways. He can deal with our halting, loitering, straying, delaying - and returning, yet following no other way. In the midst of so much sin, that path yet leads to the light.

Sloth leads no where but to waste and void - and darkness upon the face of the deep. If we fling the pound away, God can yet deal with us. What we dare not do is put it in our pocket and leave it there to decay.

Taking God seriously means taking Him at His Word, and giving Him the chance to act the way He has said He will. At the very least He deserves that chance. Thus we have to take the risk. We have to roll the dice and spin the wheel of fortune, taking the gamble as presented to us. Only the difference between gambling with faith and hope, as opposed to gambling with the dice or the wheel, is that we have God's promise: that even though we might lose the game, we will win our lives - not only mastering them, but keeping them forever.