A Reflection on Luke 19:11-28
Jesus tells this story right before entering Jerusalem, and
I wonder if He knew how deeply it would cut. A nobleman gives his servants
these minas, these gifts, and then leaves. Some of them take what they're given
and do something beautiful with it. They invest, they risk, they let it grow.
One servant buries his in the ground, and when the master returns, that's the
one who loses everything. We read this and think it's about money, about
financial stewardship, but that's not what makes it so personal. Those minas
represent everything God has poured into your life, not just what's in your
wallet. Maybe He's given you this incredible capacity to listen, really listen,
when someone's falling apart. Maybe it's patience with people others have given
up on. Maybe it's that extra room in your house, or your ability to make
someone smile when they're barely holding on, or resources that could change
someone's day, their week, their life. Whatever overflow of blessing, whatever
kindness, empathy, compassion, or provision, God has entrusted to you, that's
your mina. And here's the question that should shake us a little: are you
sharing it with people who need it, or are you keeping it buried safe where it
can't touch anyone?
Here's what breaks my heart about this parable: the fearful servant's
excuse almost sounds reasonable. "I was afraid." But think about what
fear does to us. It makes us hold tight to what we have. We see someone
struggling and we think, "Well, I worked hard for this," or
"What if I need it later?" or "They probably won't appreciate it
anyway." We've got this empathy God gave us, this ability to feel another
person's pain, and we bury it because caring hurts. We've got resources, time,
food, money, friendship, and we hoard them because sharing feels risky. What if
they take advantage? What if it's never enough? What if I run out? And so, we
watch people suffer alone while we sit on gifts that were never meant to be
kept. That's the tragedy Jesus is exposing, not that we're evil, but that we're
afraid. And fear turns blessings into burdens we clutch instead of rivers we
let flow through us to others.
This is where the Rosary becomes such a tender teacher. Look at Mary in
those mysteries, really look at her. At the Visitation, she's pregnant and
could've stayed home, but she hears Elizabeth needs her and she goes. She
doesn't hoard the gift of carrying Christ; she brings Him to someone who's
lonely and afraid. At the foot of the cross, when she's losing everything, she
doesn't close her heart. Jesus gives her John, and John gives her to us, and
she keeps loving, keeps mothering, keeps giving even in her worst moment. Every
mystery whispers the same truth: God's gifts multiply when we share them; they
die when we don't. The Rosary isn't just prayers we say, it's watching someone
show us how to live with open hands. Mary teaches us that real safety isn't in
keeping everything for ourselves. Real safety is in trusting that God keeps
filling us up as we pour ourselves out.
Think about the world we live in. People are so lonely. They're hungry, not
always for food, though often that too, but hungry for someone to see them, to
care, to show up. And here we are, so many of us are blessed with so much.
Maybe you've got extra in your pantry. Maybe you've got evenings free when
someone needs company. Maybe you've got money sitting in accounts while others
are choosing between medicine and rent. Maybe you've just got this gift of
being able to make someone feel less alone. What are we doing with it? I'm not
saying this to shame anyone, I'm sitting here asking myself the same thing. But
Jesus is pretty clear: if we keep it all for ourselves, if we let fear convince
us to hoard instead of share, we're going to stand before Him one day with our
carefully preserved, unused blessings and realize we missed the whole point.
The point was never to protect what we have. The point was to love people with
it.
So here's what this parable is really asking us, and I think we feel it
when we're honest: What has God given you, not just in your bank account, but
in your heart, your hands, your life? What kindness, what patience, what
resources, what friendship, what mercy has He poured into you? And what are you
doing with it? Are you investing it in people, letting it multiply through
compassion and generosity? Or are you burying it because sharing feels too
vulnerable, too risky, too much? The Rosary keeps bringing us back to Mary's
answer. Every bead is her yes, yes to risk, yes to giving, yes to letting God's
blessings flow through her to a world that desperately needed them. She shows
us that we'll never run out of love by loving, never run out of mercy by being
merciful, never run out of what matters by sharing it. Because the God who gave
us everything in the first place? He's not asking us to guard it. He's asking
us to give it away. That's how His kingdom grows, not through fear and
hoarding, but through open hearts that trust Him enough to bless others the way
He's blessed us.
©2025 James Dacey, Jr., OFS
