In Christ’s parable, one worker is given one talent, another two, another five.
The utter generosity is astounding.
Five talents is as much silver as a person would make working all day, six days a week, for one hundred years.
Such a gift, while being extremely heavy, would bestow incredible wealth.
We may object: why the disparity in giving?
Shouldn’t God give everyone the chance to love him equally?
But in our own experience, we see this variation.
Due to a variety of circumstances, some are more aware than others of their own longing for God.
Some have been given the gift of faith from childhood; others find it late in life.
Some feel divine love burning within them as passionately as the Desert Fathers had, while others are plagued by tepidness and doubt.
While all have a longing for God strong enough to sustain them for a lifetime, some may feel this longing more acutely, making it more firmly fixed in their will and more powerfully expressed in their actions.
That is what “abundance of the talents” means.
Talents are not, first and foremost, additional material blessings, nor natural abilities, nor education.
“More talents” means that charity, poured into a person’s heart, makes him long more intensely for God.
The heavier the supernatural weight, the less comfortable we are apart from God.
God’s greatest gifts are destabilizing gifts: the gift of faith makes us strain to see what we can’t see clearly in this life; hope makes us strive for a future promise, not short-term contentment; charity makes us feel like St. Paul, torn by our desire to be with Christ and our desire to serve our brothers in Christ: “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.
If it is to be life in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me.
Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell.
I am hard pressed between the two.
My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.
But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account” (Philippians 1:21-24).
St. Paul’s description of his restlessness throws an effective sidelight on the parable.
More talents mean greater weight, which means a greater restlessness for both God and neighbor.
George Herbert, an English poet, tried to capture this in his poem “The Pulley”:
When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by,
“Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can.
Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie,
Contract into a span.”So strength first made a way;
Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure.
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.“For if I should,” said he,
“Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
So both should losers be.“Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to my breast.”
Let us not be envious for another’s talents; we are given the weight we can bear.
More longing would exceed our abilities to sustain it.
We can know, however, that whatever the amount of longing in our heart, such love is sufficient for a lifetime.
Take a few minutes in silence.
What things (internet browsing, shopping, gossip, etc.) are you letting yourself rest in, neglecting the love of God and neighbor?
Ask God to stir up a restlessness in your heart so that you may pour yourself out in love for him and those around you.
