Buried Talents

Our Gospel lesson is about vocation. We read that God calls Our God is a calling God. He called Abraham. He called Moses. He called mysterious men out of Persia to follow a star and then called them to return home "by another way." Our God is there. And He is not silent.

These days the notion of "a calling," venerated not so long ago, is held up to derision. Countenancing that a distinct, demonstrable call is a requirement for priestly ordination, the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago about thirty years ago placed a large display ad in a daily newspaper:

This cynicism has become all too common.

The bishop who priested me said that he would not consider any candidate for ordination until he had read the candidate's "Statement of Call" and deemed it to be authentic. There is nothing in the verb to ordain signifying "self-selection."

Still, a shadow of respect remains for the idea of calling. We still use the phrase, "God-given talents." To be sure, our talents are in-born, yet no one can show you where they reside in your DNA or in your brain. And common experience teaches that they remain undetected until circumstances and our striving bring them out.

Our English word talent derives from the Greek word talanton meaning a certain measure of weight in gold. In this, our Gospel lesson comes into focus. You see, it is about us today. Its specificity on that score is startling. A talent, according to one definition, is a man's weight in gold. At $1,945 per ounce this week, that sets a talent's value at $6.25M. Uncannily, this sum is equal to the salary over a lifetime for for many Americans in the middle class.

And the talents of our parable make this very connection:

Now that we understand the context, this allegory becomes obvious. We are reminded of the creation of man and woman. God forms us and then imparts certain talents into each one of us. St. Paul writes,

We go on reading and learn that no one person receives all talents:

Furthermore, every person, however, receives some talents:

Is not our parable this morning, therefore, about the creation of mankind and the gifts God gives each of us? The parable begins:

Now, where is this far country? "The Kingdom of Heaven" is mentioned immediately. Who, therefore, is this "man"? Is it not God? We read in the Greek that His servants address him repeatedly as Kurios, which is the Greek word used consistently to translate "YHWH" in the Septuagint. And what are Kurios' signature acts? He calls to His servants, and He imparts His goods.

Our interpretation of this is confirmed as we learn more about these "goods." For the Greek text specifically links them to ultimate Judgment, expressed by the verb, παρέδοκεν / parédoken, meaning, "to deliver to one something to keep, use, take care of, or manage" (which is to say, "to bless") or "to deliver up one to custody to be judged, condemned, punished, scourged, tormented, or be put to death" (which is to say, "to curse"). Both of these are contained in the same verb!. Does not this verb describe the Last Judgment?

That is, God calls us (His servants) to life and then gives each of us the fabulous riches of a lifetime to do with as we will and talents. But this is not a neutral gift.

At the end of our lives, He will return. (In the Holy Apostle's Convent translation, "after a long time He returned." And what we have done with our lives will lead us to union with Him: "'Well done, good and faithful servant! Enter into the joy of thy Lord'" (Mt 25:23). Or what we have done will lead us to separation from Him: "'cast the unprofitable servant into the outer darkness. There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth'" (Mt 25:30).

The parable poses a grave question: "What will have we done with our lives?" And it poses the answer: some of us have buried our talents, while others will go out into the world realizing their full value. This difference, as we have just seen, is a very great difference. Will we fulfill our lives according to God's expectations and hopes, or will we squander the gift of a lifetime and all those talents?

Now, how does one bury his talents? By doing nothing. Even as a hermit, I meet young people. And I ask them, "What do you want in life? What do you value most highly?" I have been surprised at how consistent the answer is: "I want to be happy." If I venture further, I discover that happiness equates to pleasure. "I want to feel good," they say.

I have discovered that this orientation is more consistent than I dreamt possible. Stanford Professor Anna Lembke, Director of Addiction Medicine at the Stanford School of Medicine, has helped me to widen my view. Reading her brilliant book, Dopamine Nation (2021), I stopped thinking about addictions narrowly, whether they be oxycodone, cocaine, pornography, video games, gambling, or even our smart phones. These really are proximate pathways. The real addiction is broader. It is when we have fastened upon the pleasure centers of our brains, controlled by the neurotransmitter dopamine. You see, it is not simply an injection of chemicals which the addict craves. It is not simply sensual stimulation or images of this on a computer. Addiction is a general craving for excitement and instant gratification which keeps our dopamine pumping.

There is another component which has made us a "dopamine nation." And this is the cessation of striving. Always seeking social justice, our domestic policies seek to provide the things that people once strived for. How long I saved to buy my first pen knife! I still have it. I still treasure it. We strive for shelter, food, furniture, automobiles, money. Professor Lembke writes,

Isn't his amazing! When we have provided everything for everybody, we have stumbled upon a recipe for mental illness, for depression. You see, this is the master equation of Lembke's book:

In a memorable image, Dr. Lembke likens the smart phone to a hypodermic needle injecting all the excitement, which keeps our dopamine hopping. Truly, we have become a dopamine nation. Walk into any waiting room. Ride on any bus, train, or plane. What do you see? The truth is shocking: addicts everywhere .... unashamedly administering their latest fix, one thing leading to another, always craving more. Try dragging a teenager away from his browser. He may snarl at you showing his teeth! We seek ceaselessly: stimulating our brains, flooding our brains with excitement and pleasure. And when the dopamine wears off, we are left feeling empty, even depressed. And the smart phone, appearing within one generation, has made addicts out of us all.

Now you may say to me, "This is ridiculous?! Our smart phones?!" But, you see, Dr. Lembke has demonstrated this principle using neural imaging — MRIs in motion, CT scans in motion. She has demonstrated conclusively that the same pleasure centers are excited with dopamine whether the subject is watching pornography or is sexually stimulated or injecting cocaine or browsing on a smart phone. Neural imaging makes not mistake. And when the dopamine subsides, the subject is left feeling empty.

Instant gratification lies at the heart of this compulsive behavior. One of the Sisters told me at least a decade ago, "All this instant gratification will come to no good." This is the conclusion that Prof. Lembke's research has come to.

Now, what is the road to lasting happiness? It is to strive, to realize the full value of the talents God has given us. To say it more plainly: God calls us. If only by virtue of the talents He has given us, He most certainly has called us to do certain things. The call (from the Latin vocare) is our vocation pointing to the "good works Thou hast given us to walk in" to borrow from an ancient prayer.

Do you see what I am getting at? God has work to do. He needs laborers (as He says repeatedly in the Gospels). He awakens us to our several tasks in the Vineyard by giving us the tools we will need to complete His work. That is, the God-given talents lying within us are a form of a call.

But it is no simple task to determine exactly what our talents are. We read that Moses protested when God asked him to be spokesman. He stammered and stuttered, he said. He was not a public speaker. But occasion and the grace of God led him to discover his buried talents.

I know a nun, modest and self-effacing by nature. She shies away from taking credit for anything. Yet she was cajoled into accepting an administrative position she did not want. She protested that she simply did not have the aptitude for it. She did not have the temperament. Twenty-five years later she (and the team she assembled) established the largest NGO in southwest Haiti serving a quarter-million people a year. And all who knew her shared the same opinion: What magnificent gifts she had for administration! If they are listening to me today, they will nod their heads. "What magnificent gifts she has for administration!" "What a careful listener! I've never been so heard." "What wisdom!" Every day I saw people lining up outside her door. And I knew very well what they wanted. They wanted a few minutes of her time and attention. They wanted to draw close to her heart. I did too. Everyone did.

The case I know best is my own. I do not like to talk about myself. But this point is important, and I do not want to fail in communicating it. I began as a young teenager pursuing my happiness. As I grew older, I joined other "hippies" (as we were called) in Vermont to be part of the back-to-the-land movement. Along with many others, I lived in the fog of a delusion: that we were ushering in a new age. But this world, soaked through with nudity, drugs, and casual sex, was a dopamine free-for-all. Had I stayed there, I most likely would have perished. And I meet friends who did stay there. Their central nervous systems have been shattered from taking drugs every day over many years. And all of them have incurable STDs.

My escape path turned out to be classes I took at a local "hippie college." There I discovered a talent. I had a gift (I was told) as an interpreter of literature. Please understand that I was high school student who played hookey all the time. So this truly was a revelation to me. I took heart and applied to Colgate, who accepted one candidate per year whose high aptitude was out of joint with a poor high school record. I did not know much about the aptitude, but I surely knew about the high school record. They accepted me. And in gratitude I diligently worked night and day. I never wanted to leave. But I had to live. By the time graduation had finally come around, I had steeped myself in the classics and in medieval literature, culture, and languages. I won a scholarship at Johns Hopkins, a foremost department in that field, and took a Ph.D. and became a university professor.

Through a series of unexpected twists and turns, I was recruited by Bell Labs (of all places), who offered me a research fellowship followed by an offer to join their Technical Staff.

What a choice! I had no formal background, no training, in this field! Nonetheless, shall I reject this extraordinary offer and walk away? On the other hand, shall I throw overboard eleven years of arduous preparation in the humanities .... only to fail miserably what turns out to be a quixotic adventure? A close friend who was a scientist sniffed, "Don't be absurd! You could never survive that hothouse of scientific genius! You have the soul of a poet! You are definitely not a scientist!" But my contacts at Bell Labs assured me that they saw something in me (which I evidently had not seen). So I took the risk, and I joined this foremost institution. And soon, I discovered talents I had no idea I possessed. In five years, I was elevated to senior rank on the Technical Staff, carrying on research without supervision, writing books, and teaching.

In time, I was recruited again, this time by MIT, to teach in the Center for Advanced Engineering Study. And there, I was approached to host a television program.

In the midst of this full-time excitement, I received an unmistakable call to the priesthood. My call experience was not at all subtle or hidden. It was vivid, some would say, supernatural.

From all of these things, I learned important lessons, which I share frequently, for they are urgent.

If you take Him lightly, you will discover that He is most displeased. When He calls, which after all is a Divine command, He expects the young Samuel's reply: "I am here, Lord!" or Isaiah's reply, "Send me! I will go!"

After being profoundly humbled and owning my disobedience, I begged for even the lowliest place, and God swiftly put me to work: university chaplain, parish priest, hospital chaplain, theology professor, missionary. He called me to one thing after another. He has so much to do!

The master lesson is this: we must do. We must roll our little wagons, for only then will the Holy Spirit guide our wheels. He will not propel the wagon. We must roll our wheels, and He, to be sure, will guide them.

Every talent I possessed lay buried within. My teachers in public school saw no particular merit in me. It was only in venturing out, trying, striving, pouring myself out, that my vocation came into view .... actually several vocations, for God's call never ceases. I have met priests who pray, "I am happy where I am! Please don't call me!"

Here at the end of my life, God has called me and Sr. Mary Anne to a ministry of spiritual writing. I did not plan this nor even thought about it. But one day my Facebook page (Pope Benedict XVI ordered all priests to have one) suddenly had a hundred Friend requests though I posted nothing. I asked the Sisters what this meant. They told me it was obvious that God wanted me to begin posting things. Within weeks that one hundred went to 500 and over time to 5,000. Of course, none of this would have happened if I had said "Later" or "I don't understand." I had to take hold. I had to focus. I had to do.

As I look back on my life, I see that I really had not planned to do anything. I liked "hanging out." I had not planned to go to college. I never aspired as a young man to become a university professor. I never desired to become a scientist. The sciences held no attraction for me. And the priesthood had never been on my radar. When I spoke to my first diocesan Commission on Ministry as a postulant, they asked me why I wanted to be a priest. And promptly said, "In all honesty, this was not my idea."

Along the way I worked for the Canadian National Railroad laying track. I joined the Merchant Marine. But these were not things I sought out. They more or less just happened in front me .... I guess I can say that it all just happened in front of me, one thing leading to another. And I was swept into it.

As I look back, I can say that the big things that happened I did not plan, and the things that I planned never came to be. The lesson is clear whether learned from the Scriptures or learned through personal experience, one lesson: Trust in God. Throw all else to the wind, and trust Him. If he is asking you burn your whole world down, then burn it down. Trust Him! He is clearing the way ahead.

As our parable teaches, God wants us to become full of the bounty with which He has entrusted us. He calls us. And we must listen for his call. It will not do to decide that you want to become a priest, to take one example. He must summon you. Meantime, He will fill you up with many things from this rich and varied life. God is efficient. Nothing will be lost. He will use everything and compact it into one coherent, organic life.

A vocation common to us all is His universal call to holiness. He calls us to Himself, Who is holy (1 Peter 1:15-16). No matter what else we may be doing with our lives, we are called to be His children, who we are.

How do we escape the pandemic of dopamine addiction (and there is no pandemic more deadly)? We do this through silence, through mindful living, through spiritual writing in a journal .... through all of these things, we attain "dopamine quiet." Our minds are no longer jazzed. Our passions are no longer aroused. We step to one side of the endless cycle of stimulation and instant gratification. Only stillness will remove the hypodermic needle from our arms.

So let us turn off the radio in our cars. Let us throw the television out the window (at least the second-story window). Let us turn off our smart phones and get a landline.

And the greatest talent of all is our love for God and our "Yes" to His gift of life. Only in this will the riches within us be fully revealed. He has such big plans for us. But we will never know what they are until we roll our wagon understanding that He is guiding it.

Tragically, God looks out on a world of delinquent children staring blankly at glowing screens, raking up their passions, whether they be compulsive buyers or gamblers or users of pornography .... the devil's menu is endless. In this blank stare, they no longer see God. And they sink further and further into emptiness and depression. Here is a field of victory through which Satan runs rampant.

Nonetheless, the Lord God never stops longing for our fullness. He longs for the day we have completed our course. And when He returns — and He certainly will at the end of our lives — He will expect to see our shining talents, shining like gold in all of its purity.

Watch for Him. Listen for His voice. He calls us in the night when we cannot sleep. He calls us in our days writing messages on the walls of our daily experience. He calls us to walk with Him and to talk with Him. This is the life of prayer. The Jesus Prayer is the prayer of stillness. It will quiet the mind and cease the orgy of dopamine.

Above all, remember the perfect prayer, which our Lord and Savior Jesus taught us: