We are sailing in unchartered waters, so the experts tell us. The impact of the global financial crisis is starting to be felt, and people are uncertain and even fearful of what 2009 will bring. Some have lost their life savings in failed finance companies, others have watched as house values fall, retailers have seen shop sales slide and businesses are beginning to face the prospect of having to lay off employees. And to make matters worse, the Treasury forecast for the next twelve months looks even uglier.
A cartoon in the NZ Herald this week put it poignantly. John Key is at the helm of a boat caught in a storm. He says to his navigator, I presume Alan Bollard, ‘Any idea how long this foul weather will last?’ To which the response is given, ‘This is the good weather – the foul weather is on its way.’
With such gloomy news, it is no surprise some are on edge. The situation needs to be taken seriously, and we also need to ask ourselves how we will respond to the present crisis both as individuals and as a church. We can ignore the warnings and hope we won’t be affected; we can try to insulate ourselves in an attempt to protect what we have; or we can act on the good news we proclaim and be guided by something other than the fear hanging like a dark cloud over our fragile economy.
You may wonder what the gospel can offer those suffering from economic hardship and uncertainty. Certainly Jesus was not someone you would go to for financial advice. His portfolio was poor and what money he did have he held onto lightly. And whereas experts like Gareth Morgan suggest wisely people pay off debt and put their hard earned savings in low risk investments, Jesus was a risk-taker.
To grasp what I mean, you have only to look at the words he speaks today. The workers who back themselves are praised, and the one who acts cautiously is condemned to misery. But does this mean Jesus would’ve encouraged the actions of the Wall Street traders or is there more to his message?
Of all the parables Jesus tells, the parable of the talents is perhaps one of the best known. It is often interpreted as referring to making the most of the gifts we have. We all have special gifts and abilities, and God wants us to use these for the service of the kingdom. The moral of the story is plucked from verse twenty-nine: gifts unused atrophy or wither, but gifts exercised increase.

Of course, such a reading is supported by other texts. Paul, in his letters to the church in Corinth and Rome, speaks of the various gifts found within the Body of Christ; and the church based on his teaching has encouraged its members to exercise their individual gifts for the good of the whole.  
But this is not the central thrust of Jesus’ words today.
Here, a talent does not refer so much to our ability to sing or write or paint; it refers instead to a large sum of money, the equivalent of what a worker would receive for fifteen years hard work. And one of the main characters in the parable is a wealthy capitalist. Like some of us he wants a good return on his investment, and for his money to work for him while he is away.
So, was Jesus arguing for the free market then? I don’t think so. Like the prophets from the Old Testament, he would condemn the doctrine of greed too often promoted by the power-brokers of our society, and he would stand with the poor and those pushed out on to the margins.
Rather he uses an example from the financial world to make a statement about life. And he confronts us with a question: what motivates us? Is it fear - the fear of failure, of punishment, or of loss? Or is it faith?
In the parable three workers are entrusted with a sum of money. The first two invest wisely and make a profit. But the third makes none. Driven by fear, the fear of his employer, he hides what he has. Not even trusting the bank, he does the equivalent of putting his money under his bed - he puts it in a hole!
And by doing as he does, the third worker acts in a way not dissimilar to what we see all around us. What we see too often, including within ourselves, is an unwillingness to take a risk. We fear what it may cost us. We fear what others may say. We fear the thought of failure. We live by fear and not by faith. 
In our pew sheet is a quote I found during the week. I think you will agree it is quite profound. Here is a man who spent twenty-seven years of his life in prison, who knew the injustice and brutality of apartheid, who had suffered the separation from those he loved most dearly; and yet who paints a picture of faith, of being set free from fear to risk everything for what we believe is true and just and noble.
And how can this be so? Mandela puts it simply, ‘You are a child of God.’
Almost two decades ago I spent five weeks in the slums of Manila. One of those I went with is the grandson of Joan Baker. His name is Murray Shearer. Murray, his wife, and their two and a half year old daughter, now work for a mission organization in Manila called Servants to the Urban Poor.
I received a letter from him the other day. The letter speaks of the challenges of living where they are. The dangers of bringing up a child amongst the dirt and desperation of a slum community, the discomfort of dengue fever, and the difficulty of learning a new language. But Murray remains upbeat. He writes:
‘It ‘s not all bad… the rent is affordable… any renovations or improvements are entirely at our discretion; no permission or permits required… and there’s no lawn to mow too. We’ve never argued about the toilet seat being left up; there isn’t one. The two-year-old drawing on the wall with crayons? Not a problem. It actually improves the décor… so yes, it can be a struggle at times; but it’s not all bad.’
You have to ask what motivates a person like Murray to leave the comforts and security of life in New Zealand to work amongst the poorest of the poor. It is not something many of us would choose to do.
But the simple answer is love. As his website says, Servants is ‘guided by a Christian ethos valuing servant hood, living simply, operating in teams, living and working alongside local people and caring for the whole person and their environment.’ And those working in such places are there because they want to bring change and transformation to individuals and the communities in which they live.
It makes me wonder what a difference it would make if such was the motivation for what we do. If we were motivated by faith and not by fear. We may not feel called to serve in a place like the Philippines, and yet each of us is called to give witness to the love of God right where we are. 
Once again, I think Mandela gets it right:
‘We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.’
So, in conclusion, the parable of the talents may not bring relief to our financial woes and uncertainties. But it does holds up a mirror to our lives and asks us to reflect on what motivates us. It shows if we are willing to let go of the fear that stifles us from becoming what we are and if we are prepared to put our faith in a God who, in Christ, has shown us the enormity of his love, then we will find a way through this storm and help others to do the same. May the good news of Christ be our guide and our goal; Amen.
A sermon preached in St Alban’s Anglican Church, Eastbourne, on Sunday 16 November 2008, by the Ven. Damon Plimmer.