Those of you who have been cringing for
most of this summer might be thrilled to know I am leaving the histories and
minor prophets, at least for a week. I’m
not sure that I am supposed to be in Luke this week, but I feel like I owe it
to the Search Committee and the Vestry.
As I was interviewing, now almost two full years ago, I was asked if I
would preach on Stewardship. I shared
with both the Search Committee and the Vestry that this nonsense all grew out
of me preaching on Stewardship. For those
of you who do not know, this whole ordination thing began when a priest beat me
into running a Stewardship program and preaching on it at church. To be fair, Dan was not mean. He was just insistent. We argued, but I finally agreed. I learned in those arguments, though, that
some priests viewed preaching on Stewardship as tantamount to asking for a
raise, or at least keeping one’s job.
At the time, I was a branch manager of a
brokerage office. I was young, too. Had I known that could lead to this, I
probably would have fought much harder not to run that program and not to give
those sermons. But, one of the
redemptions of that experience is that I am as comfortable talking about money
as I am anything else in Scripture. So,
I told the Vestry and Search Committee “No problem. When it comes up, I will preach it. After all, where and how we spend our money
is a clue to our heart and a clue to our relationship with God.” Ironically, since my arrival, I think an
obvious money sermon has come up once.
One single time. By quirk of the
lectionary, our readings have been pointed elsewhere. It is a shame really. One of the nuggets of the Holy Cow was that
we as a parish have a budget some $400,000 below where it should be, if people
told the truth about their income and really believe they are members at
Advent. You’d think God would want me
hammering away at that more frequently.
But no. Even though money is
often discussed in Scripture, our readings and my sermons have mostly been
elsewhere.
That, too, might be a gift or at least for
the best. Rather than me going old
school broker and brow-beating you about Stewardship, and threatening you with
eternal damnation, we have had to spend a lot of time in others areas getting
to know one another. See, you all can
laugh. Visitors might be offended by
that idea. I had a newish member at 8:00
tell me how disappointed he/she was that I finally preached on money. He/she had been telling friends that he/she
had found a preacher who preaches on things other than money. Now, I have lost my unique standing in
his/her eyes. That’s not to say I have
not had lots of individual discussions with parishioners and had some thoughts
in Finance Committee and Vestry to share, but we have not been forced to think
collectively of financial stewardship much, until today . . .
The story in Luke begins a pretty normal
request. This is Luke’s second
discussion of how material possessions, or the love of them above God, can lead
to spiritual danger and even separation from God. People would ask rabbis to serve as advisers
and arbitrators. It made sense. If you and a friend were fighting about
something, it was best to get a rabbi, an expert in the law, to give
advice. Following the advice of a rabbi
was a kind of defense, right? Standing
before the elders or judges, you could claim “Rabii John said this was the way
to do it.” It was a great way to deflect
responsibility, and it showed some serious concern on your part that you wanted
to do what was right. Why else seek out
a rabbi’s opinion? What? You thought modern humans figured out how to
dodge, deflect, or shirk responsibility?
Of course, the man in question is not
seeking an advisor; he is seeking an advocate.
He wants us to hear he is looking for advice, but what he wants is for
Jesus to tell his brother to divide the family inheritance with him. Jesus sees the request for what it is and
asks who set him as judge over them.
Worse, and this is where the guy should have really paid attention,
Jesus tells the man to be on his guard against all kind of greed, life is not
abundance of possessions.
Luckily for the man, Jesus decides to make
a point to the crowd. He can slink back
into the crowd or even slink away. But
Jesus tells the story of the foolish rich man who builds a bigger barn. Buried in the details of Jesus’ parable are a
number of clues that ought to inform us, but that we are likely to miss. For example, the implication that his barn is
too full of grain to be able to store any more would have been scandalous to
those who tried to live in accordance with the torah.
Most of you all know I moved here from
Iowa. I learned more about farming in my
time among the farmers there than I would have ever thought possible. I especially learned a lot about farm economics. Before moving to Iowa, I had no idea the cost
of drying crops. I also had no idea how
dedicated they were to maximizing yields.
Oh, in theory I understood it.
The more crops one grows, the more money one can make. The less one spends on the crop, the more one
makes. But modern farmers take it to
another level. Many of the tractors are
connected to the computers which keep track of the yield in each area of the
field. They know which parts of the
field need what kind of fertilizers or nutrients. It helps them place what is needed where,
without wasting what is unneeded somewhere else. They have even connected their tractors to
the satellites to figure out what patterns to use to plant, fertilize, and
harvest, and to make sure that no part of the field goes unused. Some even have an autopilot function, I am
told, just to make sure the yield per acre is as high as it can possible get
without fear of human error.
The crowd listening to Jesus, though, would
have heard a rebuke of the wealthy man with barns. We might see nothing wrong with maximizing
yields and increasing profits, but Israel was under a different economic
system: God’s. You all certainly
remember this from our too-quick travels through Ruth, but God-fearing families
were not supposed to harvest the corners of their fields or glean them. What was left was meant for the poor, the
widows and the orphans. It was God’s way
of ensuring that those forgotten by the rest of the world could get enough to
eat. How many obeyed God’s instruction
in this? Human nature being human
nature, my guess is that it is much like today.
We know Boaz worked his fields in this manner. But he was singled out as a righteous
man. There were probably some who really
tried to follow God’s instruction; there were probably some who pretended to
follow God’s instruction; and there were probably many who chose to ignore God
altogether because they were smart businessmen and women. The man in question has more than he
needs. In fact, his barn is
overflowing. Now, he plots to try and
keep even more, rather than letting others share in God’s bounty—that whole
love your neighbor as yourself command.
The next verses remind us that God is far
more concerned with the attitude that we have to our possessions than we would
ever like to believe. Five times in
three verses, the man is all about the ego, “I.” Add to that all the “my’s” and the cultural
significance of the name of Yahweh, the great I AM, and you can begin to
understand the scandal Jesus’ audience would have heard. In effect, the man has made himself God. He thinks the bountiful harvest is of his own
making, his own planning, his own expertise.
He knows he is the captain of his ship and the master of his domain, so
he considers and plots how to ask to give his ultimate gift from God, his soul,
rest and relaxation.
Think of the hubris. We have talked from time to time of the
psyche and the ruah. When we were
conceived God breathed life into us and made us us. He made Hunter Hunter, Judy Judy, MC MC (like
she needs more encouragement), and Brian Brian.
In one sense we are all similar because we are human beings. In another, though, we are very different. Each of us has different attitudes, ways of
processing, ways of relating to the world.
We describe each other in these attributes, right? She is a nervous Nellie. He’s a gentle Ben. When we call to mind the people in our lives,
we think of that uniqueness that makes them who they are. More amazingly, and in contrast to other
religions in the Far East and elsewhere, God tells us we will be us for all
eternity. There’s no anonymity
promised. There’s no subsuming happening
in the life to come. You and I will know
each other because we each have different God-breathed psyches. And this rich man thinks his soul is his
own. God breathed his psyche into him,
just like He did for us; and the man has forgotten. He thinks he can give rest to his soul; he
thinks he can provide for his soul.
Those of us who like to think of Jesus as
just a hippie before His time are no doubt disappointed by the judgment part of
the parable. God appears and demands his
life. Our uncomfortableness may start
with God’s address of the man as a fool.
After all, he has saved well, he has planted well, and he is looking to
the future. By our modern understanding,
the man is anything but foolish. Of
course, fool in the Old Testament refers to anyone who rejects the instruction
of God. It is pretty cut and dried: the
wise live as God instructs; the fools reject God’s instruction. The rich man in this case has become
self-centered rather than God-centered.
The result will be doubly crushing.
Not only can he not take his wealth with him in death, despite all his
wise planning, but he has also lived a life that, in the end, rejects God’s
call for him to love his neighbors as himself.
God gave him an opportunity to be a blessing to the poor and
marginalized, and he rejected that opportunity.
Understand the criticism here. The story is not so much concerned about the
man building a bigger barn, practicing particular farming techniques, planning
for the future, and other such behaviors.
The real problem for the man is the attitude. God gives us everything. In that sense we are all stewards. Does the man use the blessings of God to
benefit others? Does he even use the blessing
of God to his own benefit? Of course
not. And he stands condemned because he
thought himself the source, the focus, and the provider.
I said earlier that I have not preached a
lot on stewardship since my arrival. If
your ears have only been attuned to “give more money,” such is a true
assessment. But hopefully I have been
calling you to think of yourself as a steward in everything, not just
wealth. Those of us who are parents are
stewards of our children, right? Those
of us who have been given special talents or unique abilities are called to use
those talents and abilities to glorify God, right? Hopefully, you have heard me challenge you to
be good stewards of your time, to be good stewards of God’s wisdom in
Scripture, to live in ways that glorifies God in your life so that others may
be drawn into His saving embrace. Our
attitude towards wealth is just an area of our lives that serves as a reminder
to us and an example to others about our real faith in God.
To put a positive spin on the
possibilities demanded by God, what if the man in question had put out the
word, “I have plenty and God has given me a bountiful harvest, take what you
need” to those in need in the community?
Can you imagine the response? Can
you imagine the teaching opportunities?
His rich friends might consider him silly or foolish, but he could have
redirected them back to God. How many
would have begun a conversation with “what are you thinking?” The poor would have had an incarnated example
of God’s mercy in their lives: Give us
this day our daily bread. No doubt
some would have questioned even as they accepted the bounty or blessing. “Why are you doing this?”
In America, we hear fanciful stories of
Pay-it-forward, as if a $5 cup of coffee in a Starbucks drive-through is a huge
gift. How much more would we moved by
the stories of the wealthy, in thanksgiving to God and all that He has provided
to them, were to give away a season of groceries?! How many of us who own businesses hoard what
we make rather than paying our employees a living wage? Our non-Christian brothers and sisters can
claim they are working “within the system.”
You and I know that God calls us to be agents of transformation in the
system, or to at least set the example He demands. This economic system in which we live, for
all its good, falls short of the economic system to which God calls us. We hear stories of how a stranger tips a
waitress $500 or $1000 and makes all the difference in the world in his or life
that month, paying a medical bill or covering a car repair. Papers and new stations and now social media
will be abuzz by such acts. But how many
of us Christians display the heart of the rich man in this parable by giving a
tip of “God saves” or “John 3:16” rather money, knowing that the waiters and
waitresses that serve us make $2.85 an hour?
How many of us Christians will do that today, after we have read this
passage, heard a sermon condemning the attitude of the rich man, and then
headed out to eat after worship? Heck,
how many of us think we know better how to spend God’s money, or know what is
wasteful and what is really necessary, than our clergy, our vestries, or our
Lord? I see the squirm on that one. I told you all that used to be a huge one for
me, right? I came to church once a week
for a couple hours, but I knew better than the men and women in leadership of
ministries and the church, in my wonderful 20-something wisdom, how my money needed
to be spent. Some of us even cloak
ourselves in righteous indignity by highlighting what we know were bad stewardship
decisions, in effect claiming that God can redeem death but not waste. We are often such fools.
We Christians claim to serve a God who
owns everything, who has infinite resources, but we live as if any of His
blessings are finite, as if He might run out of whatever it is we value more
than Him. That is the source of God’s
address of the man as a fool this morning.
You and I are called to prayerful self-examination or discernment about
everything He has given us. Everything. Even the wealth He has given us.
Our attitude at Advent about money is one
that needs to be addressed, and that is the point of this parable. Maybe this parable comes up later in our
building relationship because now, some 19 months into this journey together,
you know me and can relate to me better than our first or second month. Part of why the Vestry was worried about
whether I would speak about money was the Holy Cow, but part of the reason I am
not afraid to speak about money is the Holy Cow. Each of you who took part in that survey
recognize the commitment that was necessary to finish that survey. I think it fair to assume that everyone who
filled out that survey, gave of their time, has a love for Advent. Part of why I accepted a call to Advent was
the possibility of what could be accomplished if Advent grew into the ministry
God had already given the parish. If
Advent added no new members, and if every family that filled out the Holy Cow
simply tithed, our budget would be between $750,000 and $820,000. Imagine the impact Advent could make for God’s
glory if that were our budget. Imagine
how we could bless those around us, and, in turn, how God might further bless
each one of us for being faithful stewards of his resources. And we don’t need to add a single soul. To live into that vision, Advent does not
need to “grow” numerically, only spiritually.
Of course, if we were living like spiritually mature Christians, as if
we were stewards rather than owners of our time, talents, and resources, what
do you think would happen to our numbers?
We would add people who hungered for that kind of trust in, that kind of
thankfulness for, their heavenly Father.
Those other identified needs, like more volunteers, more whatever, would
likely be filled by those coming along side of us in this journey. We would be a church that lived like it
believed the Savior had come and will come again! We would be a Church of the Advent, indeed!
I have noticed a bit of squirming today,
and I have also seen some looks of “Is he serious?” I get it.
Read the parable again and again.
Struggle with the parable in prayer this week. Ask God whether you are supposed to be
comforted or afflicted today by this story.
Questions about attitude are always, in the end, very personal. Pastors and the spiritually mature friends in
our life can help guide and teach us, but only we know what’s really in our own
hearts. We are called to test our hearts
in how we live, just as we are called to glorify God in everything we do,
knowing one day that we, like the foolish rich man in the story today, will
stand before God and called to make an accounting of our lives. Those of us who are wise will claim His Son
as our Lord and Savior, but only He and we know whether He truly is.
What if, in this discernment, you find
yourself convinced you have been living the life of the fool? Remember, the Rabbi who told the story this morning
came not to condemn the world but to save it.
He came not to condemn you but to call you into right relationship with
your Father in heaven. Your accounting
has already been settled. On
Calvary. 2000 years ago. All you need to do is repent and to ask God
for the grace to live a life that demonstrates you as wise, as one who trusts
in His provision, as one who desires only to glorify Him in all that you do.
In
His Peace,
Brian†
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