Rev. Maureen Frescott
Congregational Church of
Amherst, UCC
August 4, 2013
Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14;
2:18-23; Luke 12:13-21
“Bonfire of
the Vanities”
There’s
an old story about a stingy old rich man who was bedridden in his final days.
He had heard the saying, “You can’t take it with you,” and was determined to
prove it wrong.
He
instructed his wife to go to the bank and withdraw enough money to fill two
pillowcases.
He
then told her to take the bags of money to the attic and leave them directly
above his bed. His plan? When he passed away, he would reach out and grab the
bags on his way to heaven.
Several weeks after the man died, his wife was up in the attic cleaning, when she came upon the two forgotten pillowcases stuffed with cash.
“Oh, that darned old fool,” she exclaimed. “I knew I should have put the money in the basement.”
Several weeks after the man died, his wife was up in the attic cleaning, when she came upon the two forgotten pillowcases stuffed with cash.
“Oh, that darned old fool,” she exclaimed. “I knew I should have put the money in the basement.”
The
message of both of our scripture passages this morning is that we can’t take it
with us.
Anyone
who has ever moved, downsized to a smaller living space, or inherited a
household worth of stuff after the death of a parent, knows this.
All
that we work so hard to accumulate in this life will be left behind – left as a
joy or burden to our families, to gather dust in someone else’s attic, or to
gradually decay, rust, and be reclaimed to the earth by the ravages of time.
Nothing
in this world lasts forever.
Jesus
has much to say about putting undue value on things that are in reality,
temporary and worth much less than we think they are.
The
Parable of the Rich Fool is a signature Jesus parable in this regard.
Now,
any time a rich man talks to Jesus or asks him a question we know it’s not
going to end well. As I said
earlier in our introduction to the gospel reading, Luke in particular loved
pairing the words “rich” and “fool” together.
The
gospels are full of tales of rich men hoarding their possessions and not
getting into heaven, widows giving their last nickel to the church while the
rich give very little, money changers having their tables overturned, and
greedy land owners not paying a fair wage.
But
while the rich are the focus if all of these stories, what Jesus is lifting up
here is not the evil of having money and possessions, but rather the evils that
result when we place too much value upon them.
The
focus of these stories is greed.
The
rich man in our parable today is looking for a way to store his crops for
future use. His concern is that without a larger barn to store his goods, he will
not feel secure enough to relax and enjoy life.
And
we might ask, what’s wrong with that?
The
man has done nothing illegal to gain his bounty. He didn’t steal it, he didn’t
manipulate anyone into giving it to him, and there is no mention of him not
treating his workers well or tying to cheat anyone out of a fair wage. His land
produces a bountiful crop. The soil, sun and rain worked together to make him a
rich man. He simply builds bigger barns to hold what he rightfully harvested
from his land.
Would
it be better for him to let it go to waste?
We
might answer that what God has given us is not for us to hold onto for
ourselves. The man should give the excess back to God, by giving it to those in
his community who have less.
But
perhaps the message that Jesus has for us here goes a bit deeper than our need
to give back to God. It’s hard for
us to pour out God’s love if we haven’t made room to receive it.
The
man’s life has been taken over with worry and concern over how to store his
possessions. He believes that he cannot relax into the joy of living as long as
his future is insecure. He does not acknowledge the gift that God has given him
and he does not trust that God will continue to provide.
In
a world ravaged by drought, floods, unstable economies, and food insecurity,
many of us might have cause to doubt that “God will provide” as well.
When
children in our own communities go to bed hungry at night and families have to
choose between rent and groceries, telling them that God will provide may not
be enough to keep them from imagining how they might build their own bigger
barn, to ensure they have enough to feel secure.
When
I was in seminary, I traveled to Kentucky with twelve of my classmates to learn
how poverty affected children living in the poorest parts of Appalachia.
We
visited a church that gathered as a community every Thursday night to pack bags
full of food to be given to local schoolchildren. During the week these children relied on the free meals
offered at school and would often go hungry for the 68 hours between Friday
afternoon and Monday morning. What
was striking is that the children receiving the food bags were instructed to
hide the bags from their parents, as too often the food was taken away from the
children, hoarded for another day, or sold to fund a parent’s addiction.
Greed
is fed by insecurity and fear.
It
is not limited to one socioeconomic class and it comes in many forms.
We
might place undue value on our possessions, the size of the land that we own,
the number of people under our influence, and our ability to exert power over
others.
Greed
also comes into play when we withhold our time, attention, respect, and love
from those whom we deem unworthy of receiving it.
Jesus
sees and calls out the fear that is at the root of our greed.
Our
fear of not having enough.
Our
fear that we are powerless.
Our
fear that we ourselves are unworthy of love.
But
too often what we desire, what we long to possess, what we hoard because
without it we feel insecure, is something that is perishable and temporary, and
once it’s gone we fall into fear yet again.
The
author of Ecclesiastes writes,
Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
I saw all the deeds that are done under the sun; and
see, all is vanity and a
chasing after wind.
When
we hear this text, our modern ears translate the word vanity as meaning
self-centeredness, narcissism, or pride.
But
the root of the word vanity is emptiness.
In
fact, the word that appears in the original Hebrew text is hevel,
which means “breath, vapor,
impermanence” –
Hevel is a fleeting vaporous
apparition that is easily blown away.
Perhaps
this text from Ecclesiastes is better read as:
“Vapor
of vapors. All is vapor. All the deeds that are done under the sun are vapor,
and a chasing after wind.”
Now
we might argue that we accept that our material possessions are fleeting and
temporary, but our work – all the deeds and toil that we’ve done under the sun
– are not.
What
we do now has the power to affect generations to come – socially, economically,
environmentally, and spiritually; and while our human legacies will not live on
for eternity, there is still value in what we create and leave behind for
future generations.
All
is not vanity. All is not empty.
All
is not foolish toil left to wither under the sun.
But
perhaps too much of it is.
If
we all took out a sheet of paper and listed everything that we do in a typical
week, we might be forced to defend the necessity of a good number of things on
the list.
Work
is necessary. Play is necessary. Time spent with family and friends is
necessary. As members of a church community, we might add that time spent serving
others and serving God, is necessary.
But
how much is too much?
How
far can we stretch the reasoning, the rationalization, for the necessity of
every thing that we do?
The
average adult in our society leads an increasingly overscheduled life, add a
couple of kids to the mix, and one’s life quickly becomes an endless parade of
lacrosse practices, soccer games, dance recitals, violin lessons, doctors
appointments, teacher meetings, and school assemblies.
Even
without school age children, when we string together work commitments, plans
with friends, trips to the gym, caring for adult children or elderly parents,
and various boards, committees, and organizations that we choose to serve, we
quickly see why the mantra of our modern world has become, “I’d love to, but I
have no time.”
Earlier
this week I saw a posting on facebook that read,
“Stop the glorification of BUSY!”
Too
often we wear our busyness as a badge of honor.
As
we list all those things that we do in a typical week, we may feel a sense of
pride in what we’ve managed to accomplish.
Our
busyness can add to our sense of importance and value, to the point that when a
friend asks us how we’re doing and we respond with a breathless rundown of all
the things we’ve done, and still have yet to do – perhaps we’re not complaining
so much as bragging.
For
many of us, beneath the feeling that we’re exhausted, overworked, and
overstressed, is the fear that if we don’t have a full schedule, we will cease
to have value….or will be thought of as unimportant.
We
worry that our kids will fail to keep up with those who have a multitude of
extracurricular activities to add to their college applications.
Or
we believe that we are too important to lessen our pace.
We
imagine all that would fall through the cracks and ask ourselves,
“What
would the people at work do without me?”
“What
would my family do without me?”
“What
would my church – and God – do without me?”
What
is so wonderful about our scripture texts today is that they both give us good reason
to yank ourselves off the treadmill that we’re struggling to stay on.
Because
all those things on our to do lists are really not as important as we think
they are.
And
all our toiling under the sun is not going to make us live longer or live happier.
And
all those things we have stored up in our barns are not going to keep us
secure, or healthy, or safely out of harms way.
Jesus
said to the rich man, “You are a fool. You could die this very night. And the
things you have set aside, whose will they be?’
What
Jesus offers as an alternative to all our toiling and storing up, is the love
of God.
What
makes us feel powerful, what makes us feel secure, what makes us feel connected
to others, is love….and God’s love, God’s unconditional love, is the greatest love
of all.
But
we can’t feel, experience, or seek concrete ways to respond to that love if we
haven’t created a space in our lives for it to take root.
In
15th century Italy, it was a common sight to see priests gathering
up and publically burning items that might tempt one to sin – books, works of art, musical
instruments, fine dresses, and even mirrors. These public burnings were known
as bonfires of the vanities.
It
was believed that the removal of these items would cause people to turn back
towards God.
But
as we know, removing the temptation doesn’t reduce our desire or need for the love
and security that we seek. And we if don’t seek those things in God, and in our
relationships with each other, then we’ll find something else, some other
vanity, to fill in the void.
If
we empty our barns of possessions but don’t seek to fill our lives with love,
then it won’t be long before we fill those barns back up again.
If
we reduce or commitments and clear our schedules to create a day of Sabbath for
us and our families, but don’t fill that space with love, then it won’t be long
before we’re seeking something else to do to keep us occupied.
Filling
that space with love doesn’t mean that we have to take on yet another community
service project or church commitment, if we’ve already made space in our lives
for such things.
But
if we haven’t made space for such things, we may be surprised how rewarding it
is once we do.
Filling
that space with love will look different for each and every one of us. It could
entail spending more time together as a family, visiting a friend we haven’t
seen in a while, taking longer walks at a slower pace, setting aside time to
mediate or pray, opening up a creative channel and learning how to paint,
sculpt, or sing.
Remember
this is not a challenge to add more things to our lives, but to actively reduce
how much we are doing and how much we are holding onto and creating a space for
God’s love, mercy, and grace to work it’s way into our lives.
All
of life is vanity.
All
of life is hevel – a fleeting breath, a passing vapor.
Give
yourself time to experience it while it’s here –
in all its fullness,
and
in the loving company of God.
Amen.
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