Good and Faithful Servant

33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Cycle A
Prv 31:10-13, 19-20,30-31
1 Thes 5:1-6
Mt 25:14-30

My father died two years ago last September. He was a holy man. I remember him as a man of deep prayerfulness, gentle and kind. His was an innocent faith, not based upon great learning but on great love. He had been given many talents. Trained as a simple draftsman, he went on to become a designer of complicated machinery and a builder of homes. He could create wonderful things with his hands. And in everything he exhibited a wonderful enthusiasm…for his work, his family, his God, his life.

I remember him today for two reasons. First, because this reading was one we used at his funeral. Second, because in the month of November we remember those who have gone before us marked by the sign of faith. As I was preparing this homily his Mass card fell out of my prayer book, and something in me wanted to tell his story.

My dad was given much in this life, just like the servant in today’s gospel who was given the five talents. And like that servant, Dad invested his talents wisely. Not just the good things he was given, but also the bad. A talent in Jesus’ day was not a measure of money, it was a measure of weight. A talent weighed about 75 pounds, so five talents of silver was a considerable thing indeed. To invest it required strength, and usually a bit of help.

In the last third of his life, Dad’s talents were very heavy indeed. He was diagnosed with cancer of the larynx when he was 47, my age, and had his voice box removed completely. For an Italian male, that may be one of the worst things that could happen to you, to lose your ability to talk. One minute he could communicate and the next he was completely speechless. Completely helpless and dependent upon the help of others.

He invested those heavy talents well. He trained himself how to speak again, swallowing air in his eshophogus and letting it out slowly to form words. We said he sounded like a frog. He could have used a small electronic device to amplify his voice, but he didn’t because he wanted to show other people who had had laryengectomies that they could return to normal life again. He went on to do just that, even taking his place again on the altar as a lector.

The master was away a long time, and so the servants had a long time to invest the talents he left them. And the value of those talents compounded over time. My father eventually suffered through three more bouts with cancer over a 32 year period. He had prostate cancer, kidney cancer, and finally melanoma, which claimed him. By the time he died he was a physical shell of the strong, vibrant man he had been. But throughout all his sufferings he became a much stronger man, a much more peaceful man, a holy man. He took each and every one of those heavy talents and invested them in other people, in his faith, and in his family. He never did it with words, he did it by quietly taking each one and placing this one here with a prayer, that one there with a hug, and that one over there with a smile. The illnesses that could have ground him down in fear, that could have forced him to bury his talents in the ground, instead paid the greatest dividends. He died in great peace, not in fear.

I tell you this story today not to brag about my dad, although I do so unashamedly. It’s because we all know people like him. We remember them especially in the month of November each year. We have their names enshrined in the Book of the Dead on our altars, and we dust off their prayer cards and their pictures, and relive our moments with them. Many times they are still among us, are even here this morning. We realize that we are indeed given great things from our Master, and not all of them are pleasant. But they are all worthwhile and valuable, and we are called to invest them wisely.

A good and faithful servant is good and faithful in all things. We are all called to be that servant, and best of all, to share our master’s joy.