Homily for the Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

November 15, 2020

The story is told of a king who ruled his people wisely and well. He was loved by all the people in his kingdom. One day the king called in his four daughters and told them that he was going on a long journey, and that he was leaving them in charge during his absence. The daughters felt overwhelmed and thought they could never rule as well as their father. The king then told his daughters that he was going to give each of them a gift, and he hoped that the gift would teach them how to rule. The king put a single grain of rice in each daughter’s hand, and then left on his journey.

Several years later the king returned to find out what each daughter had done with her gift. The oldest daughter ran to her bedroom and brought back a crystal box in which she had kept the grain of rice with a golden thread tied around it. The second daughter presented a wooden box, explaining that, all these years, she had kept her grain of rice in the box, safely under her bed. The third daughter raced to the kitchen, found a grain of rice, and presented it to her father. Finally, the youngest daughter approached and said that she did not have the grain of rice her father had given her. When asked what she had done with it, she explained that she thought about the grain of rice for nearly a year before she discovered the meaning of the gift. She realized that the grain of rice was a seed, and so she planted it in the ground. Soon it grew, and from it she harvested other seeds and planted them. She said, “Father, I’ve continued to do this. Come outside, look at the results.” The king followed his daughter outside where he looked at an enormous crop of rice stretching as far as the eye could see. There was enough rice to feed the entire nation. The king exclaimed that this daughter had learned the meaning of how to rule, and placed his golden crown on her head. From that day on, the youngest daughter ruled the kingdom—wisely and well.

It’s interesting to compare this story to the one Jesus tells in today’s gospel. In both there is an expectation that the individuals would do something with the gifts they received. The three eldest daughters basically do little or nothing with their grains of rice—just like the one who does nothing with the talent he receives. The key difference is the contrast between the youngest daughter and the person who receives the single talent. In one case, a single grain of rice, put to use wisely, makes the daughter a queen. In the other case, the person who buries his talent is condemned. Why the difference?

I was thinking about the gifts in our society in this time of the Covid-19 pandemic. There are some people who have been particularly blessed who are able to keep themselves relatively safe. Using modern technology, they are able to work from home and be pretty much as productive as they had been in their place of employment. Other highly gifted people, including doctors, nurses and others in the medical profession have been called to use their gifts on the front lines of the pandemic. Many others, including workers in meat processing and other food preparation facilities, pharmacists, those who work in supermarkets, those involved in making deliveries, teachers and school personnel, have had to use their gifts in a way that often exposes them to the virus. The pandemic has revealed that, often, those who are disproportionately affected are those who live in poorer, more congested neighborhoods, those with less income, those without health insurance, people of color, and the homeless.

And so, we have neighbors who are using their gifts during this dangerous time in heroic ways. We have neighbors who work at jobs that are considered essential, and so they have little choice but to use their gifts if they wish to provide for themselves and their families. And we have neighbors who are most vulnerable, most unfortunate and least lucky, often because of their race, their location or their socio-economic status. The pandemic simply makes more evident what was there all along.

So, what are we called to do, as Christians, and as compassionate human beings? During this difficult time, especially with the pandemic, and with the holidays approaching, we are not being asked to take our grain of rice, put a pretty ribbon around it, and keep it safely hidden in a crystal box. We are not called to take our talents and simply bury them in the ground because we are afraid—afraid that there might not be enough for “them” and for “us”. If the wise use of our God-given talents has ever been required, it is now! There are countless opportunities to help the weak and the vulnerable, the poor and the forgotten, the sick and the homeless. There are countless opportunities to plant whatever seeds we have been given, to invest the gifts of compassion, mercy and justice. In one respect the corona virus makes no distinctions; anybody can get sick, anybody can infect another, anybody can either make things better or worse. But we cannot hide, think only of ourselves, and bury our gifts and resources in the ground. We’re better than that.