This weekend’s sermon for St. Peter Lutheran Church, in Greene, Iowa.
Today’s texts are Luke 12:13-21 and Psalm 49:1-12.
In case you missed it, here’s last week’s sermon.
For any of you who don’t know me, I’m Pastor Daniel, and this is my third weekend here preaching.
And you know what? I’ve discovered there’s a lot to do as a pastor.
I’ve been working on meeting as many people as I can (and many of you I’ve met more than once, and we’ll keep meeting), I’ve been working on planning confirmation, getting ready for the school year, writing sermons, going to meetings, and lots of other little things.
So, I’m thinking of an alternative career plan in case this doesn’t work out. I thought of this during seminary, and I think I’ve found an ideal business. It has recurring revenue, the customers do most of the work, and it’s a secure field that’s not going away any time soon.
I’m thinking of opening a storage unit complex. Think about it—people pay you to store their stuff, stuff they paid for and don’t use, but that they can’t bring themselves to get rid of.
Now, I can’t be too hard on people with storage units, because I still have stuff stored at my parents’ house from before we got married, and my wedding present china is still in my grandmother’s basement.
And obviously I’m not really going to change careers now, but if I did start selling storage units, I think the guy in Jesus’ parable would be a good customer.
As we heard, there’s a crowd following Jesus and listening to his teaching, and someone in the crowd has a question about the inheritance he feels he’s owed. It’s not a trap, like some questions Jesus gets asked; it seems to be an honest question.
Since part of the Torah (the Hebrew Scriptures) deals with inheritance law, and radio call-in shows don’t exist yet, dealing with questions like this is part of the job for a rabbi like Jesus.
But Jesus sidesteps the man’s question. Instead of answering, or even asking the details of the case, he sees the man is deeply concerned about getting the possessions he is owed (or at least thinks he’s owed – the story doesn’t specify), and he gives him a warning.
Jesus reminds him that stuff isn’t everything in life. Wealth isn’t the goal. One’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions. Then, seizing the teachable moment, Jesus tells the parable we just heard, about a man who needed a bigger barn to store all his stuff.
This story’s hard for me to hear, because I like storing things. Ask Christin how hard it was for me to get rid of stuff before moving.
Also, although my financial net worth is firmly negative right now thanks to college and seminary loans, I really like keeping track of money. Sometimes I even read personal finance books and blogs for fun. I know, I’m a little odd.
But I get where this farmer’s coming from. He’s saving for the future. I’ve done this. I’ve built bigger barns—maybe not literally, but I have a retirement plan now, and I try to save some money for the future.
Trust me, I’m nowhere near being ready to retire yet, but I like the idea of getting to a point where I can say to myself, “That’s enough. You have ample goods laid up for many years, and it’s time to relax. Eat, drink, be merry, watch Netflix, go on vacation, take that around the world cruise.”
This guy’s actually kind of admirable, isn’t he? He’s put in his time, and now he’s ready to enjoy the rewards.
But God doesn’t look at him and say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” Far from it. God looks at him and says, “You fool!” Ouch. So what’s he done that’s so foolish?
If you asked me what sort of person God would call a fool and say their life is demanded of them, my first theological reaction would be that it must be someone really sinful.
But this isn’t a story about sin, is it?
There’s nothing in here to imply this guy’s done anything wrong. This isn’t a story about an unjust oppressor, or about the just punishment of a thief, or anything like that. The way Jesus tells it, the man is just rich. He’d probably say he’s blessed, at least in the sense he worked hard. He’s been diligent. He’s worked hard for what he has.
If you asked him, maybe he’d even quote the 21st chapter of Proverbs, “The plans of the diligent lead surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty comes only to want.”
Or maybe Proverbs 3, “Honor the Lord with your substance and with the first fruits of all your produce; then your barns will be filled with plenty, and your vats will be bursting with wine.” That’s his problem, right? He’s done so well his barns are full.
Yet God calls him a fool.
Why? Today’s Psalm, Psalm 49, gives us a hint. In verses 4-8, the Psalmist points out that no matter how great one’s riches are, they’re never enough to buy our way out of death. The rich and the poor both ultimately die.
The rich man’s problem in this story isn’t so much that he has wealth, it’s that he trusts in his riches for life. This is a story about the meaning of life, about your purpose in the world.
And yet, it turns out this story of this foolish man is actually about sin, because isn’t it about relying on yourself for life? About constructing life the way you want it, rather than seeking the life God calls you to? He’s putting himself and his wealth ahead of God.
And we have a word for that. It’s called idolatry.
The man is sinful. He’s using his wealth to separate himself from God, trying to free himself from needing to rely on God. As Martin Luther put it in the Large Catechism, “Whatever your heart clings to and confides in, that is really your god.”
We all know that putting ultimate trust in stuff is foolish. Relying on stuff leaves you empty. You can’t take it with you. But how often do we do it anyway?
Or sometimes we do the opposite. We take pride in the good we do, putting our trust in how much we give away, or in what we do for others.
There’s a way in which even being humble can become prideful. But if we’re building our lives on what we do, how much we give away, on our good deeds, that too is idolatry.
Jesus ends his story by saying, “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.” What does it mean to be rich toward God?
Obviously it doesn’t come from acquiring a lot of stuff. A few verses later, Jesus goes on to talk about storing up an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. A sort of heavenly insurance policy. But how do we do that?
It must be to do good deeds, to selflessly love others, to advocate for justice, to serve our neighbors in a way that pleases God, so God will see it and reward us.
If that makes you uncomfortable, that’s good. I’m with you. Because if we’re serving others in order to please God, so God will love us more, then it’s ultimately selfish, and we’re back to the idolatry of self-reliance.
So again, how do we become rich toward God? Here’s the secret – hopefully an incredibly poorly kept secret. It’s not something we do.
We can’t make ourselves rich toward God!
Instead, it’s about what God’s done for us. Your security and your life comes from your identity in Christ. It comes from the fact that God has claimed you. You are a child of God given eternal, abundant life by God, not by your possessions or from anything you’ve done or will do.
Because God is the source of our life, we don’t need to rely on ourselves. It’s freeing! How does that change how the value we put on our money and stuff?
One caution: just because we’re already rich toward God doesn’t mean we ignore this life.
Jesus is not saying in this story that we should ignore planning for our earthly future because only heaven matters, or anything like that.
In fact, here and throughout Luke and the rest of the Bible, I think he’s saying that this life is very important. Those blessed with wealth by chance or by their own efforts are called to use it to help others, to share with those who need it, working for the kingdom of God, a kingdom where there is no poverty.
To paraphrase Martin Luther again, God does not need our good works or wealth, but our neighbors do.
But heed Jesus’ warning, because there’s also no idolatry in God’s realm. There is only reliance on the abundance of God, the one in whom we find our life.
Amen.