Eternal Investments
By Charles T. Rush
November 12, 2000
Luke 12: 13-21
at a week!
I was awakened on Tuesday morning at 6:40 a.m. by WOR radio for a
last minute interview. They wanted to know if Jon and Bob were really great men
or was I just blowing smoke to get more money in the plate. I assured them that
they were indeed great men.
Kate and I went to both
of the rallies that night, saw some familiar faces from town and the Church.
Early in the night the TV pundits called the race for Corzine and there was an
explosion of joy at the democratic rally. But later in the night, Bob pulled
even, and there was an even bigger explosion of joy at the Republican rally.
The rest of the night was fretting, counting, figuring. Late at night, the
Franks campaign finally conceded. Bob gave such a magnanimous concession
speech, so inspiring. A few minutes later Jon led a train of supporters in a
big party. I gotta tell you, I'm like a kid at political events. I love the
press of people, the waves of enthusiasm and anxiety. The Boy Scout in me comes
out. I love the fact that an ordinary schmo like myself can be right there
involved in the political process. Only in America. It is really a fantastic
thing.
We got home at 3:00 a.m.,
tired as could be, hoarse, hardly able to sleep, still without a
president-elect. What a night. I had a lot to reflect about on the way home and
this morning's text came vividly to mind.
Earlier in the day, I had
gotten two phone calls. The first one was a call from the O'Brien family to let
me know that Jim was fading fast and would die shortly. So much talent, a good
friend, a colleague, a young man in his mid-fifties. Within the hour, he had
passed away.
The other phone call was
from a colleague to let me know that a woman who was the secretary on a
committee I serve on for Baptist work in the state had died. I probably talked
to her on the phone every two weeks for the last three years. She was 38, died
of a stroke. It was completely unexpected. Her husband was in shock. They had
two children, ages four and five.
I'm driving back from the
O'Briens', thinking to myself that death is such an odd thing. When someone you
know well dies, it seems like the whole world should come to a stop for a
moment. But, it doesn't. It just keeps on rolling on.
So Friday I went to two
funerals for people that died too young. In some respects they were quite
different. Jim's was at Christ Church and very European, the other was at a
Baptist Church in Kenilworth and very African. But both of them had one theme
in common. They were tributes to people that had made a wide/deep contribution
to the well-being of their communities. They were standing room only events,
testaments to people that had chosen well the way that they lived. There were
lots and lots of people that wanted to speak about the profound impact the
deceased had on their lives.
I don't see how you can
help but stop at moments like that and take some stock in your life. You have
to ask yourself, “am I doing what I really need to be doing?” Am I living eternally?
Does my life, right now have some intrinsic authenticity to it, so that if I
found out that I had but a short time to live, I would be able to look myself
in the mirror and feel like this has been a spiritually wise life? As Hemingway
said, “Do not ask for whom the bell tolls… It tolls for thee.” Even a long life
only lasts a short time.
Our passage this morning
is set up in Luke by two brothers that come to Jesus and ask him to divide
their inheritance? They have a typical squabble that happens to people in
mid-life. They come to the wise man and want him to settle it. He doesn't
settle their dispute for them. Instead he tells this story and he ends it with
the suggestion that we ought to store up eternal treasures, we should be rich
in God. We might say, live a life of intrinsic value. You don't have to
prop it up with perqs. You don't have to justify it with largesse. It is
worthwhile because it is spiritually whole. It is an eternal investment.
And that doesn't mean
just being a nun or a missionary or a minister by the way. I struggle with the
same questions you do, just different perqs.
Life is frail. It is
brief. Are you squared away with the one you've chosen?
A couple years ago,
someone asked me to visit a bitter old man who was dying of emphysema. He
didn't have anyone and this relative thought he might talk to a Minister. So I
went to see him. He'd been sick for some time. I drove down this very long
drive, beautiful estate. A home health aide met me at the front door. Led me
through the foyer, another room, another room, another room. It was a huge
house, full of beautiful antiques and oriental carpets. The whole house had an
air about it, a musty air when things are in the same place they have been in
for years because no one has moved them. I wondered to myself how long it had
been since anyone had set foot in some of those rooms. We got to the back of
the house, to the Master bedroom and there was this gentleman in a hospital
bed, surrounded by vials and all sorts of hospital equipment. He had a nice
view of the rolling pasture behind his house and a pond.
We sat in the silence for
a little while. Finally, I said, “why are you all alone?” He told me a long
story of trials with his wife, then trials with his brother, and trials with
his children. There was a theme to this tale of rationalized actions and
victimhood. He had been misunderstood. He had to break of this relationship and
that. And now he was all alone, except for his home health aide and he paid her
for her services.
I explored the
possibility of some reconciliation with his children. Several paragraphs later,
it wouldn't work. I explored reaching out to his brothers. Several paragraphs
later, it wouldn't work. In the end, we sat there, looking out over the pasture
and the pond.
I got up to leave,
walking back through room after room, noticing again how little life had graced
those parlors, driving out of the great circular drive, I stopped and looked
back on the whole place and reflected for a moment on everything that went into
this place, the business energy that it represents… I reflected on what it had
all come to as a total life and I thought “this is a poorly managed spiritual
asset.” You don't want to be in that position. As an eternal investment, this
is a bust.
I know a woman about my
age, married for 20 plus years, three children. Her husband has been unhappy at
his job for the past decade but he doesn't feel that he has enough skills to
change careers. He doesn't think he'll be able to make enough money if he does.
He has been on the road three to four days a week for a decade.
Every year of their
marriage, he drank more and more. They talked about it. They fought about it.
Finally, she decided that he wasn't going to do anything about it. They grew
apart spiritually which was easier to do because they were separated most of
the time.
They had one thing they
did together, the children. She was and is a terrific mother. He was and is a
great Dad, when he is not loaded. Over the course of a few years, they stopped
having any physical contact to speak of. They sleep in the same bed but that is
about it. He doesn't even hug her. They talk a lot about the children and they
have a nice house and a nice life.
Not too long ago, I asked
her what her relationship with her husband was like. She responded that this
whole part of herself was on hold. She said it with a deep resignation. She
wanted to be loved but it wasn't happening right now. She said that she was
thinking about getting a divorce after the youngest kids were out of school because
she couldn't see what kind of life they would have together.
Now, I don't know what
the right thing for her to do would be. I wouldn't presume to know. Sometimes,
when we have conflicting loyalties and conflicting values, we have to make
compromises in order to get on in a very difficult situation. I'm not
interested in passing judgment on her situation. But I do know this.
Spiritually speaking, it is very expensive to keep your life on hold for such a
long period of time, in a situation where you cannot, will not find spiritual
and emotional fulfillment. That is a gamble that puts down a lot of spiritual
coin.
Delayed gratification is
an important virtue and hard to learn. But most of the adults in this room
wouldn't be here if they hadn't learned it pretty well. Sometimes too well. If
you find yourself saying, “if I can only get to retirement, then I'll really
start living.” “If I can only get to here, then…” Sometimes we have to do that,
but spiritually speaking, when you are not engaged in living right now, it is
very expensive.
Mark Twain used to say
that for him, the only difference between work and play was context. Twain was
a lucky man in that regard. It is much easier to be spiritually integrated when
your vocation is expressive of who you are and what you are about. You've met
people, some incredibly successful by the standards of the world, others not so
successful, who would be doing what they were doing every day of their lives
whether it paid well or not, whether it had great perqs or not, whether it
garnered recognition and respect or not. These people have hit on a great
secret. Not many of us are fortunate enough to be able to say that. But we need to keep reassessing our lives,
changing our commitments, so that we are actualizing spiritual integration.
In his novel Siddhartha,
Herman Hesse describes the evolution of a life from a Buddhist perspective. His
protagonist goes through several periods of his life in search of eternal
fulfillment. In his twenties, he becomes a great lover and seeks fulfillment in
sensuality. But that is not enough. In the next phase of his life, he develops
his business, accumulates a huge fortune and exercises wide power and
influence. He becomes a respected leader in the community and is sought out for
his wisdom and acumen. He becomes a great philanthropist and underwrites
important cultural and artistic endeavors.
As he ages, he realizes
that though both of these have their time and place in life, they are also
fleeting. Increasingly, he begins to divest himself of his acquisitions and
responsibilities, so that he can focus on meditation and cultivate an interior
life. In the end of his life, he has as little as he did when he was born.
It is true that there
comes a point in our life where we need to begin divesting ourselves of the
goods of this world that we have collected. We don't need all this stuff.
Spiritually healthy people pack light and are ready to travel.
Buddhists and Protestants
part ways over the difference between divesting and investing. It is not quite
so simple as getting rid of our assets. Neither is the point of life to focus
so exclusively on an interior meditation. But every year we get older, we
should be thinking more and more about how we are going to invest what we have
to make a spiritual difference. We are investing our assets and ourselves.
Ultimately, we are
investing in people. When we ask you to invest in Christ Church, we are
ultimately asking you to invest in God, but only as God is mediated through
these people around you. We are asking you to invest in them.
There is a place for
building beautiful buildings together, despite the fact that they have only a
limited life. Buildings house community. They give it focus. Buildings are
things in the service of people.
What kind of community
are you creating? Who are you invested in? Brothers and sisters, I leave you
with one thought from the poet Goethe. He said, “Whatever you can do or believe
you can, begin it. Wholeness has genius, power, and magic in it.”
Amen.
