A BRITISH November is a grey month with lengthening nights, strong winds and heavy rain. For Christians it also marks the end of the Church’s year. It is the time in particular when we mourn those who have died, when we remember those who have fallen in war, and when we are invited to acknowledge our own destiny: we too will die. Our mood may become as grey as the month.

If it does, one antidote may be found by reflecting on the three parables from St Matthew’s Gospel (Matthew xxv), which have been read in many churches this month on successive Sundays. We will hear the third tomorrow. Taken together, not only singly, they have something to teach us.

The first is the parable of the ten virgins, going out with lamps to await the arrival of the bridegroom. Five, we are told, were foolish and five were wise. The wise brought extra oil, so that, when the bridegroom was delayed, their lamps did not go dim. The foolish appealed to them to share the oil they had spare, but received a dusty answer: “There may not be enough for us and for you.” Does that sound wise? Or were they just being mean? Why would they not share what they had in reserve?

Parables, however, are meant to teach specific lessons. This one is not about sharing; the third parable is about sharing; this is a parable about the way we use resources. The foolish virgins were negligent and wasteful. They had not brought extra oil and squandered the little they had. The wise used their oil with care. We must husband our talents.

It makes no difference how many talents we have. That is the lesson of the second parable. A man going on a journey divides his property so that it is cared for in his absence. To one he gives five talents, to another two, to a third just one. Some people have exceptional gifts; others appear poorly endowed; distribution is uneven. But in the parable the man with five talents has no advantage over the others. The one who received the single talent is in fact punished later, not because he had that one talent alone but because he had done nothing with it. The servant who had received just two talents and used them wisely is praised as warmly as the one who had been given five. No difference is made between them. That is the nub of the matter. How then are our talents to be used?

Now we hear the third parable, and here indeed the lesson is about sharing. The familiar words toll out: have we fed the hungry, given drink to the thirsty, welcomed strangers, clothed the naked and visited those who are sick or in prison? The setting is one of judgment. If judgment seems premature, nevertheless self-examination is timely at the end of the year.

How have I used my gifts and talents this past 12 months? Have I nurtured them and used them wisely? To use them wisely in the light of this last parable means putting them at the service of others. Have I done so? This year in particular has offered me many opportunities.

This November brings to a close a year in which our world has witnessed and been wounded by disasters on a tragic scale. There have been natural disasters — tsunami, hurricane, earthquake — and there have been those we make for ourselves, in terrorism and the way we struggle, sometimes incompetently, to overcome it, and so make matters worse. These wounds may darken our grey November mood, but the gospel lesson can lighten it.

To help to supply food and drink, shelter and clothing, and visits to those in need, whether sick or in prison, suggests immediate practical ways to be of use. The avenues for aid are well known and deserve our active support. But we must not overlook the other command, to welcome the stranger. Who are the strangers, for you, for me? Who is alien? “Welcome” is a state of heart. It breaks down preconceptions. When we welcome the stranger, we discover the Saviour in disguise.

“When you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to Me.”

Monsignor Roderick Strange is the Rector of the Pontifical Beda College, Rome.