Fidelity not innovation

Thirty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Some of you may have watched at least one version of that iconic mentor-student movie of Karate Kid. What unites the first and re-booted movie is the methodology the mentor uses to train his prodigy. Whether it is enduring the repetitive and mundane work of waxing cars and painting fences in the first movie, or the proper etiquette of hanging your cloak on a hangar in the version 2.0, these actions unbeknownst to the student were really ways of providing him with the necessary foundation to the martial arts. Who could have guessed? One can easily understand the frustration of the student in being asked to do such pointless, demeaning and repetitive actions while he has his sights on bigger things. Eventually, the student finally discovers the wisdom of his master, and his hubris-filled folly. The message is clear: You cannot learn something new if your ego tells you that you are above the menial work, whereas patiently doing the small, uncelebrated steps properly builds a rock-solid foundation for greater things.

This is what we see in our readings today. To be honest, the three readings we have just heard appear, at first glance, to make strange bedfellows. One praises the industrious and virtuous wife who rises while it is still dark, works with willing hands, and opens her palms to the poor. Imagine that - crossing a Stepford wife with Mother Teresa. The second reading warns that the Day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night, so we must stay awake and sober. And then comes the longest parable in Matthew’s Gospel—the story of the talents—which so many of us still hear as a motivational talk about “using your gifts” or maximising your potential.

That popular reading of the parable misses the point. A talent here is not a personal skill or ability; it is a unit of weight and value, an enormous sum of money. Some say that it was equivalent to the value of a tribute from a client state to its more dominant and powerful neighbour. Even the servant who received only one talent was entrusted with a staggering amount. Knowing this little factoid helps us to see that the parable is more than just an exhortation to be productive. Rather, it is eschatological, it is about the end times. It is about the time between the Master’s departure and His return, about how disciples are to live while they wait. And the Master’s verdict for those who had done their duty faithfully is crystal clear: “Well done, good and faithful servant; you have shown you can be faithful in small things, I will trust you with greater; come and join in your master’s happiness.”

Notice what is rewarded - here’s the clue: its mention twice in just one short sentence. This is the secret of success, or in our case, salvation - faithfulness, not brilliance; diligence in the ordinary, not dazzling innovation; simple steadfast perseverance. The first two servants simply went and traded with what they had been given. They did not invent new financial instruments or make revolutionary enterprising investments. They did the straightforward, somewhat mundane work of commerce—buying, selling, investing carefully—and returned a profit. The third servant’s failure was not a lack of enterprising creativity; it was a refusal to act at all. He buried the gift out of fear and laziness and then tried to justify himself by painting the Master as a hard man. He blamed his Master for his own failure.

And so, we can see here that the real secret to Christian discipleship is fidelity, not innovation. We live in an age that idolises the novel, the disruptive, the “game-changing.” Our generation gets bored so easily, failing to recognise that there is nothing new under the sun. Even in the Church we sometimes hear the subtle pressure to reinvent everything, to make the faith “relevant” by constant novelty. Yet the Gospel holds up a different standard. The worthy wife of Proverbs is not celebrated for inventing a new household system; she is praised for the steady, hidden, repetitive work of her hands—spinning wool, rising early, stretching out her arms to the needy. St Paul does not urge the Thessalonians to devise ingenious new strategies for the end times; he simply tells them to stay awake and be sober, living as children of the light in the ordinary duties of each day. This is what our Lord commanded His disciples to do in the Garden of Gethsemane and He will expect to hear from us at the Last Judgment.

The small matters are where faithfulness is proven. The daily examination of conscience. The quiet act of charity that no one notices. The patient listening to a difficult parishioner. The thankless and often painful job of parenting. The faithful attendance at Mass even when one feels nothing. Never underestimate the power of the ordinary especially when done faithfully. The careful stewardship of the ordinary responsibilities of family, work, and parish. These are the “talents” entrusted to most of us. Few are called to dramatic apostolic breakthroughs; but all are called to be good and faithful servants in what has been placed in their hands.

Notice another angle of the parable is that the Master does not demand equal results. It is never a matter of him pitting one servant against the other or where he is creating an environment of competitiveness among his subordinates. Rather, the only thing he demands is equal faithfulness according to the measure given. The servant with two talents receives the same commendation as the one with five. What matters is not the size of the return but the integrity of the heart that sought to honour the Giver. The tragedy of the third servant is that he viewed the Master through the lens of fear rather than trust. He could not see the generosity already shown to him, and so he refused to risk even a small act of fidelity. The greatest tragedy is not in failing, but in never trying.

As we approach the end of the liturgical year and hear once more the warning that the Lord will come like a thief, the question is not whether we have been clever or original or even consistently successful. The question is whether we have been faithful in the small, ordinary, sometimes tedious things entrusted to us. Have we worked with willing hands? Have we used whatever graces or charisms which God has given us, sufficient for the work He has entrusted to us, rather than burying them in the ground of fear or indifference? The Master is not looking for innovators. He is looking for faithful servants. And to those who prove faithful in little, He promises a share in His own joy. “Well done, good and faithful servant; you have shown you can be faithful in small things, I will trust you with greater.” That is the only reward worth seeking.