August 1, 2010: Pentecost X

 

Pentecost X (13c)
Lk 12.13-21
1 Aug 2010
Fr. Patrick S. Allen

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We have been hearing, reading, and considering these last several Sundays, a section of St. Luke's Gospel that concentrates some of our Lord's teaching on the theme of discipleship – what it means to hear the call of Jesus and daily to take up a cross and follow him: going out in mission to bear witness by word and deed to the nearness of God's Kingdom; becoming still and docile in seeking communion and fellowship with Christ in the contemplation ofhis goodness and beauty; persisting in the prayerful pursuit of God.  All these are clearly spiritual and religious duties, and we can comfortably lump them into – we won't say compartmentalize into – the category "Spiritual & Religious," where they may safely and innocuously remain.  But now, as we sometimes say, Jesus has quit preachin' and gone to meddlin'.  He begins to speak about money, and with that we are not too comfortable. 

In my ministry, on five different occasions and in five different settings, I have taught a series on the Seven Deadly Sins.  I can't speak to the statistical significance of my sample, but for what it's worth, I have noticed a clear pattern emerge.  Attendance will dip markedly for two of the sessions.  First, as you may guess, for the session on Gluttony.  We are terribly self-conscious about body image, and our relationship with food has become so confused that in this country we have managed at the same time to have epidemics of obesity and anorexia.  But the other is the session on Greed.  We are discomfited by talk about money and wealth, especially when that talk is likely to lead towards parting with some of it, and especially when that talk is within the context of the church.

But of course our Lord spoke often about money, and he told us that the connection between heart and treasure is close, and so we do well to attend to it.  And in this morning's lesson, he tells us that following him, being his disciple, will require a careful examination of, and ceaseless vigilance toward, our relationship with money, with wealth.

Take heed, and beware all covetousness, for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.

Take heed, and beware!, Jesus says.  Of course the only reason to issue a warning is because the normal person, in the normal course of his day and life, is likely to be unaware of a real and present danger.  The danger here being that we will come to understand the meaning and purpose of our lives in the accumulation of money or the things that money makes available to us.  And that, by the way, is a danger that haunts everyone, rich or poor or somewhere in between.

And so a man, almost certainly a younger sibling, comes to Jesus asking him to help settle a family money dispute: Bid my brother divide the inheritance with me.  And Jesus refuses to get involved:  Man, who made me a judge or divider over you.  It's worth noting that there is no implication that this man has anything other than a legitimate claim – just the opposite.  In fact, we may infer that fairness, justice even, requires that this man receive some portion of the inheritance. 

But Jesus notes spiritual danger, even a spiritual sickness, beneath this man's request.  It's almost as if Jesus says, "You may have a right to this money, but even so, why would you want it?  What do you think it's going to do for you?"  Jesus the Great Physician diagnoses this spiritual sickness, and it is so common, and so dangerous – deadly, actually – that he addresses his warning not just to the man with the claim, but to the entire multitude gathered round him, to all who would be his followers, even to you and me:  Take heed, and beware.

When it comes to this spiritual sickness of "covetousness" or greed, we need especially "to take heed and beware," not only because the disease is so deadly, but because blindness to the disease is an aspect of the disease.  A moment ago I mentioned anorexia.  The anorexic cannot maintain a healthy body weight, because one aspect of her disease (it's usually a "her") is a kind of cognitive biase that alters how she is able to think about and perceive her own body.  The anorexic looks in the mirror but cannot see what is plain to everyone else – that she is starving to death.

It is much the same with greed:  so easy to see in others, but we are often blind to it in ourselves.  

Now, in one sense, this isn't so mysterious.  Covetousness is an internal problem, so it's not as obvious as some others sins.  For instance, I suspect that when you commit adultery, you pretty much know you're committing adultery.  But no so with greed.  Greed in ourselves is difficult to discern – How much is enough? I've given some, ought I give more?  These are difficult questions without bright line answers. 

Greed is hard to discern, no one thinks he is personally greedy, but the evidence suggests otherwise.  For instance, several years ago, Harvard economist Juliet Schor found that only 1/3 of Americans making more than $100,000 annually agreed with the statement "I can afford to buy everything I really need."  Overall, Professor Schor writes, "half the population of the richest country in the world say they cannot afford everything they really need. And it's not just the poorer half."[i]

So, you see, a kind of blindness, an inability to see oneself clearly, is part of greed's dynamic.  So take heed, Jesus says.  Beware.

And how do we do that?  To begin with, we can ask questions – lots of questions.  We can learn to be suspicious of ourselves.  Do I really need this?  Why I am I buying this?  Do I produce things that are bad for people?

But perhaps the most important question, the question that goes to the heart of the matter, is, "Where is my security?"  Or, to paraphrase the psalmist, "where is my house of defense and my castle?" 

To make the point, our Lord tells this parable about the rich man whose land brought forth plentifully.  And so – and rather prudently, we might be tempted to say – he carefully stores up his wealth.  Now I'm going to be okay, he says; now I'm secure – nothing can touch me!  I have blue chip investments; I have IRA's and a pension; I have built a financial wall between myself and all that stuff out there, and that will protect me!

Again, we might be tempted to say that this man acted prudently.  But Jesus says such a man is a fool.  In another parable, Jesus warns of "the deceitfulness of riches."  Well, this man, this foolish man, has fallen for the lie that wealth tells. 

Money may certainly be convenient.  It may allow us to enjoy, and enjoy with gratitude, many of the good and beautiful things in this world.  But against disease and sickness, broken relationships and betrayal, and certainly against death, money is no protection.  It offers no real security.

So, covetousness is a kind of spiritual disease that makes us blind to its progress in us, and makes promises it cannot keep. 

The cure that Jesus offers, I'm afraid is not especially pleasant, and I have no spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down.  It is a common sense cure; it is the cure the Church applies each Ash Wednesday:  Remember, O man, that dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return.  Or, in the words of this parable, "Fool!  This night your soul is required of you."  The antidote to the disease is to be reminded, to remind ourselves, that this world is not our home, that here we have no permanent and abiding city, that, as this morning's psalm put it, Man being in honor abideth not, seeing he may be compared to the beasts which perish.  And that instead we were made, loved into being, for something infinitely greater: eternal life, which is a share in the divine life of the Most Holy Trinity.

And that perspective allows us to be in an honest and healthy relationship with money and wealth – and even, it is especially worth noting in these times, the lack of money and wealth. 

The man in our Lord's parable believed that wealth could put his soul at ease.  But our souls' true ease – "the peace that passeth all understanding" – comes from a right relationship with God, which is to have known and responded to God's love.  It is to realize, that far from existing to accumulate treasure, we in fact are treasure – we are God's treasure. 

Indeed, God treasures you so much, that for your sake in Jesus Christ he laid aside divine prerogatives and became poor for you, and quite literally: "Foxes have holes, and bird have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head," Jesus said.

But our Lord's self-chosen poverty was a sign of the sacrifice to come, the length to which God would go to acquire, to ransom for himself, the objects of his love.  You are his treasure, bought with the infinite price of God's own blood, shed for us on the cross of Jesus Christ, and given to us here – this morning on this altar. 

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[i] Melanie Thernstrom, "Spending Sickness" in New York Magazine, 15 July 2002.  http://nymag.com/nymetro/news/bizfinance/finance/features/6216/