Sermon on the rich fool

Behold the executive summary:

The full text is below the fold:

            No matter what the need--food, eyesight, healing--people went to Jesus, and he met their needs. Out of the crowd that gathers in Luke, chapter twelve, comes a man in need of a probate judge. “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me!”

            Now I can’t think of a better candidate for the bench than Jesus. Fair. Wise. Completely impartial. Incapable of being bribed. But Jesus will not play the role this man would assign him. “Friend, who set me to be a judge or an arbitrator over you?” Perhaps Jesus knows better than to get in between siblings fighting over the family farm, the family silver, the family heirlooms. The things we do to each other when wealth and memories are on the line.

            But the word “Friend” tips us off that there’s more to it than that. Jesus uses the word “Friend” the way we southerners use the phrase “Bless your heart.” When Jesus calls you “Friend,” you’d better duck, because he’s about to bring the hammer down.

            “Take care!” says Jesus. “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” The man is worried that he’s being cheated. He thinks he needs justice. He goes to Jesus because he’s an honest broker who can give him what he needs. But Jesus, using those very qualities of unbiased wisdom that attracted the man to him in the first place, perceives that the man’s real problem is greed, and doesn’t hesitate to call him out over it. Instead of a verdict then, Jesus offers a parable on the foolishness of avarice.

            There’s a lesson here, even before we get to the parable. Therapists would call the man’s need for a judge the “presenting problem.” The presenting problem is whatever gets you through the door of the therapist’s office. But many therapists aren’t content with solving the presenting problem. They dig deeper to pull up the root causes of the problem. That’s definitely Jesus’s therapeutic approach. If we have problems in life, we should not hesitate to “take (them) to the Lord in prayer;” just be aware that the answer to your prayer may address a question you never posed, or a need you weren’t even aware of. To paraphrase the Rolling Stones, you can’t always get what you want from Jesus, but you always get what you need from him.

            In the parable, Jesus introduces us to a man who’s experience an unexpected windfall: a bumper crop. Let’s not make out the man to be worse than the parable makes him out to be. He hasn’t stolen the grain, or withheld wages from his farm hands. He’s simply the beneficiary of divine providence: no bugs, no blight, and just enough rain, and now he’s got more wheat than room for it in his silo. It’s a nice problem to have. What to do? He decides to expand. He re-invests his profits into his business. And now he’s set for life.

            Makes sense to me! It makes a lot more sense than blowing it on fancy cars and fancy clothes—which is what a lot of these guys who are signing NFL contracts this week will spend their windfall on. Compared to professional athletes or lottery winners or others blessed with a sudden infusion of wealth, the farmer seems to be a paragon of prudence. And yet Jesus calls him a fool. Why?

            The man’s a fool in at least three different ways. First of all, he’s a foolish investor. His investments aren’t well-diversified because his investment horizon is too short term. Maybe he has goods stored up for many years. Maybe he’s purchased the best silos money can buy and insured them and the contents. Maybe he’s even branched out into other commodities, or bought some Galilean T-bills, if there were such a thing. But that will only carry him through this life. What about the next life?

            Beyond time lies eternity. Beyond time sits Jesus Christ, the one who is, who was and is to come, at the right hand of the Father. A true long term investment is an investment in Christ. We invest in Christ when our dollars and cents flow into those places where Jesus has promised to meet us here and now: at this table, and where two or three are gathered in his name, in the guise of the poor, the sick, the strangers to our shores, the imprisoned, the persecuted.

            The rich farmer may have silos, but where’s his gift of canned gods to the food pantry? He may have a lifetime’s worth of grain, but where are his prayers and financial support for that overseas medical mission? Where is his pledge card? Where’s the letter to the editor or to his Congressman demanding that a wrong be righted, that the oppressed go free? Foolish is the man who won’t plan for the long term.

            At this point I must issue a word of clarification. I’m not saying that you can buy your way into heaven with a big, fat check made out to the charity of your choice. I’m not saying that you can bribe your way past Saint Peter by doubling your pledge. Indeed we are saved by faith and not by works of charity. The point is, do we faithfully dispose of the gifts God has given us, or do we regard them as ours and ours alone, the payoff of our hard work which we are free to do with as we see fit? Faith is more than just making up your mind about the claims of the gospel. It’s about letting the gospel lay claim to your whole life, including your wallet.

            That leads into a second reason why the rich farmer is a fool. He thinks that he doesn’t need God anymore. In the parable, the man thinks to himself, talks to himself, and lays up treasures for himself. Where is God in this conversation? Where is God in this scheme? He never thanks God for this windfall. He never prays, “God, what do you want me to do with all this grain?” He’s rich; and the rich don’t need anybody’s help. They’ve got this covered.

            Now we see the wisdom of the letter to the Ephesians, which identifies greed as a form of idolatry. We are all aware of the dangers of poverty, especially with modern technology that brings the plight of the third world poor right into our homes. What is less apparent is the danger wealth poses—and not just sudden wealth that’s spent thoughtlessly and foolishly, as we who watch Sportscenter are all too familiar with. Wealth can turn us in on ourselves, away from the needs of our fellow human beings, as well as the God who is the Father of us all, rich and poor and in between. But the world is too unpredictable, and God too holy to think we can or should conduct our lives as though he did not exist.

            In the Church year, Lent is the time for more intense prayer, for fasting and for turning from sin and turning to God. So, I would submit, are those times when an unexpected windfall winds up in our laps. Whether it’s a raise, a new job, an inheritance, a lottery jackpot or other sudden infusion of cash, windfalls are invitations to renew our relationship with God, to give thanks and to ask God’s help in deciding what use to put our money to.

            God speaks to us in our hearts, but also in the wise counsel of mature Christians. We do little better than the rich fool if the only other person we consult about our financial resources is our banker or our broker. Ask your pastor for advice. Ask an elder you respect. I know that money is a difficult subject to broach, but Church ought to be the place where we can have honest conversations about the things that matter most. Like money.

            The last reason why the rich farmer is a fool is that he waited too long to enjoy himself! The very day he could say, “I’m set for life!” turned out to be the last day of his life! Ironic, isn’t it? In fact, the rich fool reminds me of that guy in the old Alanis Morissette song titled Ironic:

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think

 

            The rich fool should have known better—from the book of the Bible that gave us the slogan, “Eat, drink and be merry”—the Book of Ecclesiastes. Traditionally attributed to King Solomon, Ecclesiastes is the voice of a cynical and world weary old man. Solomon, you know, was a Type-A personality. He was a wheeler/dealer. A schemer/planner and builder. At the end of his reign he’d really made a name for himself: a fancy temple in Jerusalem, a powerful army, alliances with all the neighborhood kings, cemented by marrying their most beautiful daughters. But was Solomon content at the end of his long and exceedingly productive life? No! He was bitter, because all his stuff was soon to pass into the hands of the unworthy. Ungrateful kids would inherit his wealth. Those vultures who sit in their cars idling at the curb for two hours before the estate sale begins would soon be pawing through his things. The injustice of it was so great that Solomon declared most blessed those who’ve never been born to see such evil.

            For this reason, says Solomon, it’s important to enjoy the present moment, and not postpone joy until you’ve worn down your nose at the grindstone for years. That’s the true meaning of the phrase “Eat, drink and be merry.” Today is its own reward; its reward is not in the fame or fortune that may accrue to us down the pike as a result of today’s toil, because, as God asks the rich fool, “The things that you have prepared, whose will they be?” It’ll be someone else’s because you can’t take it with you.

            “What are you saying, preacher? That I should go to Vegas this summer instead of maxing out my 401k contribution?” No; I’m not saying that. I feel like I have to keep qualifying every statement I make. That’s greed and money for you: very slippery subjects.

            What I am saying is, The past is over and the future is not yet. We can only live in the present. And when we decide to live in the present, we find joy to last a lifetime.

            Our hopes and fears for the future tend to ruin our capacity to live joyously and generously in the present. The bills coming due next month, or the looming cost of retirement make us anxious, and make us hold onto our dollars and cents. Or dreams of endless days with a Bloody Mary in one hand and a golf club in the other drive us to workaholism and stinginess in the present in order to make those dreams a reality.

            But this table and this meal tell us a different truth. The future belongs to Jesus Christ. “Every time you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” We have more to look forward to than a carefree life. We can look forward to lives freed from the power of sin and death. That’s something that money can’t buy. Realizing that the best things in life can’t be bought is the first step in banishing the demons of greed and learning to live joyfully and generously.

            And because we have that to look forward to, today’s trials and tomorrow’s worries become more than bearable; in the light of the cross they glow with a joy that comes from beyond us. We no longer have to insulate ourselves from trouble with money, fame, power, or any earthly good. We trust that pain and suffering won’t break us, but that they’re opportunities to share in the sufferings of Christ, who holds our life in his hands.

        I don't know what need brought you here this Sunday--a probate judge, or some other need. But our need to live joyfully and generously in the here and now, and our desperate need for liberation from the demons of greed is the need Jesus meets--both in this parable, and in the table set before us. To it we now turn. 

Comments

[Dave Bruner]

Marvin: in all honesty, this is an absolutely fantastic sermon on a very difficult text and topic. Please don't stop preaching when you become a professor somewhere. Wow!

[Marvin]

Thanks, Dave!