Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time 'A'

Saturday November 12, 2005

Dance to the Music of the Gospel!

I have a few disclaimers. I didn’t write this gospel passage from Matthew, especially the concluding paragraph! Moreover, Matthew was neither a capitalist nor a financier. He wasn’t a Republican, Democrat or Socialist! But he was capitalizing on Jesus original parable, which incidentally had nothing to do with money! Talent is the Greek translation of the original Aramaic word for “measure” or “treasure.” It could of course refer to gifts or talents that we have all received each according to our ability.

I found this poignant story among the many that Fr. Bill Bausch provides in his excellent book, “A World of Stories,” [XXIII Publications] which make the gospels live.

Once upon a time, there was a village chief who had three sons. Each of them had a special talent. The oldest had the talent of raising olive trees and would trade the oil for tools and cloth. The second was a shepherd. When the sheep were ill, he had a great talent for making them well again. The third was a dancer. When there was a streak of bad luck in the family or when everyone was bored during the hard winters and tired of work, this son would cheer them up and dance.

One day, the father had to go away on a long journey, so he called his sons together and said, “My sons, the villagers are depending on you. Each of you has a special talent for helping people. So, while I am gone, see to it that you use your talents as wisely as possible so that when I return, I may find our village even happier and more prosperous than it is now.” He embraced his sons and departed.

For a while, things went very well. Then the cold winter winds began to blow, and the blizzards and snows came. First the buds on the olive trees shrank and cracked, and it would be a long time before the trees could recover. Then the village, because of the especially long winter, ran out of firewood. So the people began to cut down the trees but in the process they were denuding and destroying the village. Even though the first son did not want to see the trees cut down, he knew the villagers needed heat to survive, and so he helped them make firewood from the olive trees.

Then too, the snow and ice made it impossible for the traders to come up the river or over the mountain pass. So the villagers said, “Let us kill the sheep and eat them so we do not starve to death.” The second son refused for a time, but finally had to give in to the hungry villagers. He said, “What good would it be to spare the sheep only to have the villagers perish?’”

In this way, the villagers had just enough wood for their fires and food for their tables, but the bitter winter had broken their spirits. They began to think that things were rally worse than they were and they began to lose all hope—so much so, that family-by-family they deserted the village in search of a more hospitable environment.

As spring began to loosen the icy grip of winter, the village chief, the father of the three sons, returned only to find smoke rising from his own chimney. “What have you done?” He asked when he reached his house and spoke to his sons. “What has happened to the villagers”?

“Oh, father, forgive me,” said the oldest son. “The people were freezing and begged me to cut down the olive trees and so I did. I gave away my talent. I am no longer fit to be an orchard keeper.”

“Don’t be angry, father,” said the second son. “The sheep would have frozen to death anyway, and the people were starving, and I had to send my flock to the slaughter.”

But the father understood and said, “Don’t be ashamed, my sons, you did the best you could and you acted rightly and humanely. You used your talents wisely in trying to save the people. But, tell me, what has become of them? Where are they?”

The two brothers fixed their eyes on the third son who said, “Welcome home, father. Yes, it has been a hard time. There was so little to eat and so little firewood, I thought that it would be insensitive and improper to dance during such suffering. Besides, I needed to conserve my strength so that I could dance for you when you came home.”

“Then dance, my son,” said the father, “for my village is empty and so is my heart. Fill it with joy and courage once again. Yes, please dance!” But as the third son went to get up, he made a face of pain and fell down. His legs were so stiff and sore from sitting that they were no longer fit for dancing. The father was so sad that he could not even be angry. He simply said to the third son:

“Ours was a strong village. It could have survived the want of fuel and food, but it could never survive without hope. And because you failed to use your talent wisely and well, our people gave up what little hope they had left. So now? Now the village is deserted and you are crippled. Because you did not use your talent, you lost it!”

And with these two words, he embraced his two sons and they wept for the third.

This is the end of Bill Bausch’s story, but it is not the end of the gospel story. You and I must complete it.

Christianity is an opportunity to use the measure of gifts and talents we received when an incredibly talented and gifted God loved us into being.

Christianity is not a spectator sport or a part-time endeavor.

All of us have at least one talent and most of us have many talents that were given to us to make the world a better place for others and in so doing, make it better for ourselves.

To truly reap the rewards of our talents, we need to take the risk in giving them away.

Though parish dances are a thing of the past, I think we need more ‘dancing’ in our parishes. I’m not referring to a parish dance but to the gift of leading one another in the dance of life. We used in corporate liturgical dance into Sunday worship and other special liturgical events at St Joseph in Mendham in order to allow God’s right brain to touch our right brain. It helped to bring a little heart to the message.

My mom and dad were great dancers – the first up on the floor and the last to sit down. As we watched them dance to the music, it was difficult to know who was leading whom, because they had the gift of dance. And that was what their marriage was like. Ah, the gift of compromise and yielding – not to one another’s whine or whim but to the spirit of love that bound them together, mind-to-mind, heart to heart.

Shepherds and pastors – bishops and priests and yes, even the Pope, need to dance more with their flock, mind-to-mind and heart to heart in the dance of the Gospel. Only then can the words of Christ truly become ‘good news’ for the world.

We can dance to the beat of different drums – young and old, male and female, around the table of Eucharist at which there is a place for everyone. Jesus is the one who makes us one. Only then can we embrace the world with the credibility that will make people listen to the music.

So lets get the lead out and dance!

Dance at home, dance at work, dance in the streets and dance in the market place. People may think we’ve lost our marbles but I’ll bet they will listen.

Wherever you dance, your talent will show because your talent is your dance and the Gospel is your music.

__

An updated version of ‘Just for the RECORD’ has been posted on my website. Click ‘Sidebar Comments’ on the homepage.

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