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SERMONS
The
Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
August 5, 2001
By
David Christian
Ed
was a close friend of my parents. He was well educated, an engineer.
He had taught for several years at the college level and then had
had a successful career in industry. His wife was a delightful woman,
his children all launched into promising occupations. Many years
ago Ed had become interested in the stock market. For years he had
carefully invested his money and had followed it closely. Every
evening he would spend several hours with the newspaper, ledger
sheets, and graph paper, carefully tracking his investments. Later,
after his retirement and the beginning of the home computer era,
he followed the market electronically, tracking its every quiver.
When the market was doing well, Ed did well. But when the market
was doing poorly, so would Ed. Several years ago the market took
steep fall, and Ed did very poorly. His wife walked into his office
one morning and found him dead.
Ed
had killed himself. He did not kill himself because he was financially
ruined. Although he had lost a significant amount of money on paper,
he still had more than enough to live comfortably. He did not kill
himself because he had disgraced his family. They had little interest
in the stock market, and only cared about it to the extent that
it affected Ed's moods. Ed killed himself because his god failed
him. The financial market had become the most important thing in
his life. He had placed all his trust in it; it had provided his
security. And when it failed him he had nothing left. He had no
reason to remain alive.
Ed's
story seems to be quite different from that of the rich fool in
today's gospel. This man has just come into his fortune. His fields
have produced to such an extent that he has grain enough to provide
for all of his needs for the rest of his life. "Now," he thinks,
"now I can begin to live. I can settle back and not worry about
a thing. I can eat, drink, relax. I can do just what I want." He
is a success. He has hit easy street. He has achieved the American
ideal. He is "independently wealthy;" he is "financially secure."
And
yet ultimately he ends up just as Ed did. Dead. Dead because he
finds his security in what he possesses. Dead because those possessions
become his god. And dead because ultimately that god fails him,
just as it had failed Ed.
In
giving us this parable, Christ is not saying that we should deny
ourselves all that the world has to offer. We are physical beings,
and we require certain things in order to survive: food, shelter,
clothing. It is necessary and right that we should seek these things,
both for ourselves and for others.
What
Christ warns us against is an excessive interest in things. He says,
"Be on guard against ... greed; for one's life does not consist
in the abundance of possessions."
The
danger of being absorbed with acquiring possessions is that it blinds
us to those things that are of real value. The late Lee Atwater,
political consultant and one-time chairman of the National Republican
Party, had this to say after discovering that he had a brain tumor.
"My illness helped me to see what was missing in me; a little heart,
a lot of brotherhood. The 1980's were about acquiring?-acquiring
wealth, power, prestige. I know I acquired more wealth, power, and
prestige than most. But you can acquire all you want and still feel
empty."
What
Jesus and the Church call us to as Christians is a kind of detachment;
a detachment from the things of this world. We are neither to disdain
them nor to covet them. We are to hold them lightly, as gifts to
be delighted in and to be used for our well-being and for the well-being
of others.
This
detachment is expressed well by Paul in his letter to the Church
at Philippi: "I have learned to be content with whatever I have.
I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have
plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of
being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being
in need. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
It
can also be seen in this story from the life of Horetz Chaim, a
Polish rabbi from the last century. One day a tourist from America
paid him a visit. The visitor was astonished to see the rabbi's
house was only a simple room filled with books, plus a table and
bench. "Rabbi," asked the visitor, "where is your furniture?" "Where
is yours?" replied the rabbi. "Mine?" asked the puzzled American.
"But I am only passing through." "So am I," said the rabbi. "So
am I."
David
Christian
The
Chapel of the Cross
Madison, Mississippi
Proper
13C
Ecclesiastes 1.12-14; 2.1-7, 11-23
Colossians 3.5-17
Luke 12.13-21
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