Plenty to Go Around

Have you ever noticed that you cannot buy a small tube of toothpaste?
Before you get Jerry Seinfeld's, "What is the deal with that?" voice stuck in your head, just go with me on this one.

It's impossible to buy small containers of toothpaste. You can either get teeny tiny travel-size tubes or you have to get a commercial-grade amount. Unless you're living with a bunch of people who are obsessive about brushing their teeth, these economy tubes could probably last you half a year. But have no fear, it comes in packs of 3 or 4 tubes, so you're set until the next time you have to move.

So, do we let this toothpaste last us half a year? Heck no! We pile that toothpaste on, and if some falls off, so what? We'll just squeeze more out. And instead of squeezing every last drop out at the end, we'll just move on to the next tube -- after all, there's plenty to go around.

But this wouldn't be the case if we had small tubes of toothpaste. Because then we'd be extra-frugal with it. We'd just put a little dollup on the brush -- only enough barely enough to get the job done. After all, we'd have to make this toothpaste last, right? And make it last, we would.

Marketers know this about us. So this is precisely why you cannot buy small tubes of toothpaste. Or shampoo. Or laundry detergent. Because if you only have a little bit, you'll be frugal with it. But if you can only get it in economy size, then you might as well be reckless with it. After all, there's plenty to go around.

This difference in behavior between excess and scarcity is something we see whenever gas prices fluctuate. When prices fall, we're in hog heaven. When prices climb, we start second-guessing all those extra trips or we might even consult a public transportation schedule. This is a fundamental basis for the relationship between supply and demand.

And it relates to our theology, too. For example, in the Middle Ages, scholastic efforts placed greater significance and sanctity on the Eucharist. The laity felt unworthy to receive it, so they stopped consuming the Eucharist each Sunday. Instead, they only sought to be in its presence, to be able to catch a glimpse of its radiant grace. Hence, the birth of Eucharistic Adoration. Anyway, the point is, when the eucharist became more scarce, we placed greater value on it. In fact, even today, some people argue against going to daily Mass and receiving communion each day because one possible result is that it becomes an ordinary part of our routine and we lose the reverence and awe that this Sacrament deserves.

Supply and demand. Jesus and talents.

In today's Gospel (Matthew 25:14-30), Jesus gives us a parable about receiving talents. Although this was a kind of money in Jesus' day, we can also translate the word "talent" how we do today and understand this in a sense of the gifts that we receive.

And quite easily, we can see that the servant who got the most talents handled them with the most risk. The servant who received the least talents was far more conservative (and buried them in the ground so as not to risk losing them). The theology of excess engenders in us a sense of openness and boldness; a theology of scarcity gets us into a much more defensive and even suspicious posture.

It'd be easy to draw a quick lesson from this parable: great reward requires great risk. And to some extent, that's absolutely true. But it's also not exactly what Jesus is driving at here.

Instead, Jesus is trying to get our attention, trying to shake us free from the theology of scarcity, in which we convince ourselves that what we possess is both precious and in short supply. So instead of being open, bold, generous, and making use of what we have been given, we bury it, hide it, preserve it -- in other words, we do nothing with it.

But Jesus' point is that what we have been given -- gifts, talents, opportunities, abilities, experiences, relationships, lessons, victories, and defeats -- are to be put to use. What we have been given isn't for display purposes only; it's not about keeping it safe from decay or devaluation. Instead, it's about making the most with what we have been given, no matter if we think it's a lot or a little.

Because, in the end, what we have been given is God's infinite LOVE and abiding grace. And because it is infinite, there is no end to it. A few months back I wrote a post about how this love ought to be given so freely that we even squander it. Love certainly isn't a possession that we need to be neurotic about saving or protecting. It ought to be something we are risky with: for only then will we be rewarded with anything. Or, as St. Francis captured so well nearly eight hundred years ago, "it is through giving that we receive."

Just like toothpaste we buy in bulk, our talents, and more importantly, God's love, ought to be something that we use and use and use without worrying about it running out.

And why not? There is plenty to go around.