We live in anxious times. We live in a time when we are anxious about money, our jobs, our homes, and our children’s futures. Amidst such anxiety, chapter 12 of the gospel of Luke-- from which we read this morning-- has some extraordinarily relevant words of comfort. In the 12th chapter of Luke we read that God’s concern for humanity is so great, that God knows even how many hairs are on our head. Chapter 12 of Luke also contains that famous passage which tells us not to worry about our lives-- what we will eat, or what we will wear-- for life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing. "Do not be afraid little flock"-- Jesus says to his disciples-- "for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” Comforting words, indeed, for people living in anxious times.
In our passage for today, however, sandwiched between these wonderful words of comfort, we find ourselves a little bit of a challenge. We read of a man who is also anxious. He comes to Jesus with a problem— he is fighting over his inheritance with his brother, and wishes Jesus to step in and mediate. But, as is so often the case, Jesus does not do what is expected or demanded of him. Jesus refuses to be the arbitrator, and instead of course, what does he do? He tells a parable. He reminds his listeners of that age-old truism-- that material wealth isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s a story about the folly of that longstanding myth that material wealth will bring us happiness, security, and fulfillment. The idea that if we just had enough money, We would be happier. If we could just make a little more, we would be secure. But Jesus warns his followers against exactly that kind of thinking, instructing them that one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.
This is all well and good, and I certainly believe this to be true. Yet as I prepared for this morning’s sermon, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a certain absurdity to this parable given the anxiety of the times in which we currently live. Is it absurd-- I wondered-- to talk about amassing unhealthy amounts of personal material wealth in the midst of an economic crisis that has left over 8 million people unemployed? Is it absurd to talk about the folly of storing up riches when over one million families have lost their homes, and many more struggle to pay their mortgage and put food on the table? Outside our own country, nearly half the world’s population lives on less than two or three dollars a day. Is it absurd to talk about having too much, when so many people have so little?
In the context of a continuing economic crisis, when so many people are struggling just to get by-- in the midst of so much cultural anxiety about whether or not we will be able to take care of ourselves and future generations-- I find myself asking the question: what does this story have to say to us here and now? Where do we find ourselves in this parable?
Upon reflection, I think perhaps one clue to the answer to this question lies in the very last line of the passage. Jesus explains that the man is a fool because he has stored up treasures for himself but was not rich towards God. Unfortunately Jesus doesn't give much of an explanation in this particular passage as to exactly what it means to be rich towards God. But I think if we look at the larger message of the Gospel of Luke, we can begin to understand just what Jesus means by this idea of richness towards God.
One of the overwhelming themes found in the Gospel of Luke is the injunction to care for the poor and needy among us-- the claim that God will lift up the lowly and fill the hungry with good things. Throughout the gospel of Luke we are called to a kind of radical re-orientation of our lives-- a re-orientation away from ourselves and the kind of false security that we think money can buy. We are called to strive-- not for material riches-- but rather for richness of the heart. Richness of those values that we proclaim to be at the very heart of God. Values such as compassion, generosity, mercy, and love of neighbor. Richness towards God requires an orientation that recognizes that we cannot be concerned only with ourselves and our own security. We are meant to live our lives in community with others— recognizing our interconnection and interdependence.
And so in this way we can begin to understand the idea of what it means to be rich towards God-- at least on an individual level. We can understand that there are in fact a number of ways that we can be like the rich fool-- even if we aren’t rich— and even if we are simply trying to get by. Because at the end of the day, this isn’t really a story about how much we have or don’t have. It’s not so much about whether we are rich or poor, or somewhere in between. It’s about how we orient ourselves in the world. Theologian Audrey West puts it this way: “this parable calls on all, rich or poor alike, to reflect carefully about what we want and why we want it. Are our desires driven by a determination to store up treasures for our own pleasure, or are they driven by our understanding of God’s true purpose in our life? Will we measure our lives by the standards of the media, seducing us to want more and more, or by the call of the gospel to be rich towards God?”
If we are serious about seeking to bring about the kingdom of God here and now— and I think many of us are serious about that-- we must be concerned not only with our own good— but the common good. We must be concerned— not only with our own personal happiness and fulfillment-- but the happiness and fulfillment of all of God’s children.
Which brings me to my second point, which is that while there are ways we understand this idea of richness towards God as individuals-- the values we cultivate in our hearts and the way we orient ourselves as individuals— I think that in many ways, the rich fool also represents how we tend to act as a society— our collective attitude as a nation towards wealth and prosperity.
A number of years ago, before the economic crisis, a certain CEO compared the collective attitude of our country to a man jumping off of a very high cliff. The man feels like he is flying at first-- he feels the wind on his face and the sun on his back. But the man is a fool-- because he is actually in a free fall. He just doesn’t know it yet, because the ground is so far away. Well— that comparison was in the 1990’s, and the CEO turned out to be right. We were, collectively, a bit like the rich fool in the parable-- not realizing we were falling off the cliff, and that all the prosperity we were enjoying as a nation would be taken from us almost in an instant. We had let ourselves get so carried away with the idea that our prosperity could make us secure, that we had no idea we were in a free fall until we hit the ground.
Even now, as a society, we are so hesitant to let go of these myths of materialism and self-sufficiency. We are so hesitant to admit to ourselves what we already know. We all know that we can’t buy or spend our way to happiness. We know that material success and prosperity will not help us to cheat death, or give us security from those aspects of life that are no respecters of class or bank accounts. And yet, time and time again, it seems that we continue to let ourselves fall into the isolating myths of consumerism and materialism.
We hear quotes on the news from those who say that to care about the common good means we are slipping into some kind of dangerous political ideology such as communism or socialism. This kind of thinking, I believe, comes out of our anxiety and fear. Because to care about the common good doesn't mean that we have to embrace any one particular political ideology. To care about the common good means only that we are embracing the values as a society that make us rich towards God. I think that as religious people, we can reclaim this language of the common good. Not as political language, but as moral language. Language which reflects our foundational belief that all people are created in the image of God. Language that reflects God's call to care for the poor, and to love our neighbor. Language which recognizes that more meaningful than any kind of material abundance is the abundance that comes out of our relationships with others, the abundance we find together in community, and above all-- the abundance which comes out of our relationship with God.
This is the kind of wisdom that can seem frustratingly obvious sometimes. We can beat ourselves up for letting ourselves get carried away-- time and time again-- by our fear and anxiety. But admitting what we know is difficult because it truly is a counter-cultural message, it truly is a radical re-orientation. All around us, we hear messages telling us to buy more and to spend more. Economists on the news tell us that the way back to financial security as a nation is to use our credit cards, buy more material goods, and to build up the church of consumerism. But to admit to what we know— that we can’t buy our way to security, and that we need each other more than we need more stuff— that is what it means to live into Jesus’ command to be rich towards God. This may be the first and most important step in building up the kingdom of God. Because we can’t change the world until we change ourselves. That is the challenge for all of us as individuals— and then as communities-- regardless of where we sit on the economic spectrum.
We may live in anxious times. We may worry from time to time, and that’s okay. But it’s important not to let our worries and anxieties blind us from the needs of others, or isolate us from our loved ones and our communities. It’s important not to let our anxiety blind us to the truth we already know— that truth which is proclaimed so profoundly in the 12th chapter of the Gospel of Luke-- which is that God is our refuge and our strength. It is in God that we find true security. And it is in the gift of the Holy Spirit-- which infuses our communities-- that we find true richness and abundance.
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