Rev. Eugene Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
June 23, 2002
Luke 12:13-21
Linus is eating a sandwich when suddenly he stops and begins to gaze at his hands. “Hands are fascinating things,’ he says. “I like my hands. I think I have nice hands. My hands seem to have a lot of character. These are hands which may someday accomplish great things. These are hands which may someday do marvelous works. They may build mighty bridges or heal the sick or hit home runs or write soul-stirring novels. THESE ARE HANDS WHICH MAY SOMEDAY CHANGE THE COURSE OF DESTINY!” Lucy has been listening to all this. She walks over, looks at his hands, and says, “They’ve got jelly on them!” Then she walks away.
Has something like ever happened to you? Things are going well, life is good, you are feeling on top of the world, on a roll, and then, without warning something or someone intrudes to bring you crashing back to earth. “That was a fine sermon, Rev. Nelson, but I must admit that I was a bit distracted by that piece of lettuce stuck between your front teeth.”
On a more somber note, I can recall a wedding I performed at the groom’s home. It was a beautiful day, a wonderful and joyous ceremony, everyone laughing and having a good time, when suddenly the groom’s father collapsed from a heart attack. 911 was called, the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics went to work, followed by an anxiety-filled trip to the hospital. Thankfully, he recovered, but what a painful, unwanted, unexpected intrusion. There, in the midst of celebration, a sober reminder of our mortality, the precarious nature of life, on even the best of days.
The parable we heard today, popularly known as the “Parable of the Rich Fool” is really all about an unexpected and unwanted intrusion. It begins innocently enough with a request directed to Jesus: “Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.’” This is not a request for an opinion. The one making the request knows what he wants – he wants what he sees as his fair share of the family estate. He wants Jesus to pressure his brother into finalizing a division of the property. It is the Middle East’s most sensitive issue, both then and now, a cry for justice over the division of land. He has decided what his rights are – we don’t hear from the other brother – and he wants Jesus to help enforce those rights.
But Jesus, as he so often does, takes things in a new and unexpected direction. He will not be a divider of property or anything else. Instead he uses the man’s request as an opportunity to suggest that there just might be greater gain than getting an inheritance and a greater loss than losing it. “And he said to them, ‘Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Sounds almost anti-American, doesn’t it. And then, to illustrate his point, he tells a story.
“The land of a rich man produced abundantly…” I took our daughter, Becky, on a fishing trip a couple of weeks ago. A quick trip. We spent a day floating the Fall River and fly-fishing. Fishing was slow. I had a couple on, but nothing too exciting. I was trying to help her – pick the right fly, cast just right. The day was cool. Finally she put her rod under her arm, just let the fly drift aimlessly, while she pulled on sweat pants. Suddenly, the line began stripping off reel. Without even trying, without even paying attention, she had hooked a beautiful trout. There were people fishing with guides that day who didn’t catch a single fish. She hooked one while she was putting on pants! We knew that fish was a gift, she really did very little to catch it, and we released it back into the river with thanksgiving.
In the same way, it seems like the rich man did very little. His land produces abundantly. He doesn’t appear to do much. It is all a gracious gift, generously given. In fact, he has been given more than enough. The man was already rich. Now he has been blessed with even more. How will he respond?
“What should I do? I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods.” As he sees the situation, the only question is how best to preserve his wealth for himself. His concerns are the only concerns; his needs are the only needs. He would probably fit in quite well in 21st century America. The only quality of life that matters is his quality of life. He makes no connection between his good fortune and God’s graciousness or his responsibility to that graciousness. It’s all about him. Nothing or no one else really seems to matter.
And once all his riches are safely stored away, how will they be used? “And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’” He is going to go down to Rancho Santa Fe, play golf, bet the horses at Del Mar, drink fine wine, and live the good life. Up to this point, the story is all monologue. The rich man talks to himself, celebrates himself, congratulates himself. And why not, we might ask. He has made it, achieved the American dream. He has the diploma on the wall, the monthly computer print out of the earnings of his IRA, the big house with two fancy cars in the garage. By all appearances, he has done a good job with the job of life. Why not enjoy some of the benefits? Why not relax; eat, drink, and be merry?
But then comes the unexpected and unwanted intrusion, an intrusion that no gated community can keep out, that no insurance policy can prevent. “But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” The theologian, Karl Barth, was fond of saying that one day a procession of people will travel out to the cemetery, say some words over a grave, and then everyone will return home – everyone but us.
Why does Jesus call this man, a man who easily would have been welcomed on the Boards of any number of large American corporations, a fool? Is it because he sincerely believed that the one who dies with the most toys wins? He had gathered all this stuff. Yet when the end unexpectedly came, he was just as dead as anyone else. Did he think it would all somehow protect him; that it would gain him a measure of immortality?
There is a Russian story told of a man who entered a diamond mine in search of great riches. And he found what he was looking for. He filled his pockets with great gems. At length he grew thirsty, but there was no water to be found. His suffering became so intense that eventually his reason began to fail. He heard the flow of rivers, but they were rivers of gems; he hastened forward at the sound of a waterfall, but it was a cascade of jewels – beautiful but hardly thirst-quenching. He was rich in precious stones, but was also dying of thirst. And what good were all his riches to him now?
In like manner, the rich farmer, obsessed with obtaining ever more wealth, died alone, unmissed, ungrieved, in the midst of his full new barns, his false security unmasked, his smug contentment revealed to be foolishness.
Certainly this could have been what Jesus was talking about when he called the rich man a “fool.” But I believe that even closer to the truth of this parable is this: Several years ago on a college campus, a speaker during the annual Martin Luther King observance said, “If you are black and if you have a good job and a secure family, you owe a fortune to the NAACP. When are you going to pay up?” In a similar vein is this: In my years as a minister, I have discovered that seldom is there a clear correlation between a person’s level of income and how much that person gives to the work of the church. While income certainly is a factor, giving always seems to be related to something other – something more – than simply income. It has to do with gratitude, the sense that what I have is not so much what I have earned or deserved but rather is a gift, a trust from God. And God expects me to be a good steward of God’s good gifts.
The man is a fool because he refuses to recognize this. In the words of the old phrase, “Show me a self-made man and I will show you a man built with unskilled labor.” He is a fool because when he talks of his good fortune it is all I, my, me, mine. There is no higher, holier, claim laid upon me and my possessions other than my own comfort, contentment and pleasure; no connection between my resources and my responsibilities. I think of Psalm 14:1: “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’”
Oh, this story is an unwelcome intrusion all right, because it challenges us to examine the priorities and decisions that we make in our mostly comfortable lives. Have we made decisions which demonstrate our priorities in life? Have we lived our faith boldly? What do our checkbooks say about the values we hold most dear? Do we allow all the possessions and bigger and better barns in our lives to interfere with our love for each other and for God? In fact, have they blinded us to God and to our baptismal covenant to allow the Gospel of Jesus Christ to shine through our lives? I cannot answer those questions for you. All I know is this: the rich man made a life-shaping decision. It was a decision to take care of himself first and foremost, to build those bigger and better barns and to lavish on himself all the perks of his great wealth. But his gathering and storing and building brought no meaning when life itself was called for. And Jesus called him a fool.
The questions raised by this parable intrude; they will not go away, for ultimately they are questions of values and purpose and meaning. Jesus tells the story and leaves the questions hanging in the air. He provides no answers. He knows that finally each of us must provide the answers from the depth of our own souls.
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