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A reflection on the readings of Sunday, November 19, 2023 — The thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Speaking as a husband and father, I think St. Paul’s use of the image of labor pains coming upon a pregnant woman is a brilliant illustration for the coming of the day of the Lord — as something that is at once both inevitable and unexpected.

When my worthy wife Traci and I were expecting our first child, I would marvel at how industrious she was, working a full week at the office and still finding the time to wallpaper the nursery, research car seats and strollers, purchase the diapers and onesies we’d need when the baby came home — things like that. I also recall how I spent an hour and a half assembling the crib in our living room only to find that it was too big to fit through the door of the nursery, but that was totally on me.

My point is that Traci had a clear sense of both the inevitability of this child’s birth and the uncertainty – due dates aside – of when it would happen, so she made sure we prepared accordingly. And sure enough, when she went into labor three weeks before that late September due date, we were ready.

As the liturgical year comes to a close – the first Sunday of Advent is just two weeks away – our readings have been reminding us about the inevitability that, for each of us, this earthly life will one day come to a close and that we must be prepared for that day.

We’re called to be ready for an end that will likely come for us in an unexpected way at an unexpected time. The absence of a specific date, however, combined with our natural tendency to put things off, can lead us to regard something that’s a certainty as more of an abstraction.

In last week’s Gospel, ten virgins knew the bridegroom was coming, but the moment of his arrival was enough of a surprise that five of them were caught only half prepared. They wound up being locked out of the wedding feast and cut off from the bridegroom, who tells them “I do not know you.” Their failure to prepare had major consequences.

That tendency to procrastinate is something many people contend with, myself included. Going back to my story — if it were up to me, I would have thought three weeks was plenty of time to decorate the nursery and pick up all the supplies. Wouldn’t I have been surprised?

This is why St. Paul emphasizes the importance of living each day as if it might be our last, of not allowing ourselves to amble along under the impression we can live however we want while thinking there’s going to be time later to get right with God. We simply can’t count on that. When people are saying, “Peace and security, ” then sudden disaster comes upon them.

If any of us was to be hit by the proverbial bus tomorrow, we would certainly want to hear, “Well done, my good and faithful servant, come share your master’s joy,” rather than “throw this useless servant into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.” These options are drawn even more starkly in next Sunday’s Gospel of the final judgment: “Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world,” on one hand and “Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels,” on the other. The stakes couldn’t be any higher, and the stakes are eternal.

Fortunately for us, God created us to share his joy, to inherit his kingdom, and he freely gives us the gifts, the talents, that each of us needs to get to a place where we can hear those words of welcome. That eternal joy is his ultimate will for us, but rather than imposing his will on us, he invites us to cooperate with it. He gives us the talents, and it’s up to us to make use of them.

We can get hung up on today’s parable when we compare what each person got – one servant five talents, another three, and the other only one. Lest we think that last guy got short shrift, it’s important to remember that Jesus’ audience knew that one talent was the equivalent of 6,000 days’ wages – that’s over 19 years of working six days a week. That’s no small sum.

When having even one talent is more than enough, it serves no purpose to make such comparisons, comparisons that become an avenue for excuse-making. I have met many people whose closeness to the Lord, whose holiness, is evidenced in how they live their lives, but I haven’t met one yet who has had a charmed life free from challenges and struggles. It’s usually just the opposite.

God gives different people different natural gifts. Some people are amazing cooks or talented athletes or have the knack for fixing things, but not everyone, and that’s okay. I have two brothers who are accomplished musicians and another brother who’s a professional artist, but all I can do is play the radio and draw conclusions. The point is we have each been given different natural gifts, and no matter what they are, we’re called to use them – not bury them – so that we do our part in building up our master’s kingdom.

It’s easy to notice the natural gifts that people have, but we do well to consider a deeper level – the supernatural gifts we receive as Catholic Christians. In Baptism we receive not only the gift of being freed from original sin, but we also receive the Holy Spirit and are joined to Christ and his Body here on Earth in order to participate in the sacramental life of the Church and to share in Christ’s mission. In Confirmation we receive in abundance the gifts of the Holy Spirit: Wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord.

These gifts aren’t like fine china or silver place settings that we put in a glass-doored cabinet to look at occasionally and use only on special occasions. These gifts are meant to be part of our daily lives, gifts we employ in the nitty-gritty of each day in our dealings with others and our relationship with God. These gifts are the talents the master distributes in today’s Gospel. We see how it went for the two servants who put their talents to work and how it went for the guy who hid his away.

All these gifts are ultimately ordered to one thing: Our union with God. And we don’t have to wait until after we’ve drawn our last breath to have that union. We have a foretaste of being one with Christ each time we receive the Eucharist. We feel God’s healing touch each time we go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. We get to know him better each time we read and reflect on the scriptures and converse with him in prayer. In embracing and employing these gifts, we find ourselves in an ever-growing, ever-deepening relationship that is not limited to a vertical “me and God” direction. It’s one that spreads out horizontally as well to the people we’re closest to and to people we’ve never met. Far from simply living life, we’re giving life.

But none of that happens if we leave the gifts we’ve been given dormant, hidden, and unused.

The day will come when each one of us will draw our last breath on Earth and stand before the Lord. If on that day we can show the Lord the ways his gifts have increased in us and have increased his kingdom, he’ll be able to say to us the words he created our ears to hear: “Well done, my good and faithful servant; come, share your master’s joy.”


Image: Adobe Stock. By Syda Productions.


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Deacon Steve O’Neill was ordained for service to the Archdiocese of Washington in June 2013 and serves at St. Andrew Apostle in suburban Maryland.  After four years in the Marine Corps and three years at the University of Maryland (where met Traci, now his wife of 30+ years, and earned a degree in English), he has worked as an analyst with the Federal government.  Deacon Steve and Traci have two sons and two daughters and three grandchildren.

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