Sermon: You Can't Take it With You

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“You Can't Take it With You”

By Rev. Julie Yarborough

August 13, 2006

[ Audio (mp3, 4Mb) ]

few years ago, Powerball mania hit the United States, when the lottery prize reached 250 million dollars. The chances of winning were 80,000,000 to one, and it's more likely to be struck by lightning (1,900,000 to one) or to have quadruplets (50,000 to one) than to win at Powerball.[1] Still, thousands of people drove hundreds of miles and waited in line for hours to buy tickets on the off chance that they might become instantly rich. In Greenwich, Connecticut, located just across the border, traffic was so snarled that signs were posted along the Merrit Parkway to encourage lottery customers to keep driving. Shopkeepers limited the number of ticket purchases in order to make other sales. Tensions were so high that the police were forced to work double and triple shifts just to keep the peace.

Tension runs high when large sums of money are involved. In another instance in New Jersey, a mother sued her son for half of his winnings in the lottery, claiming that she was entitled to the money because they had often purchased tickets together. How many family members do you know who have stopped talking to each other because they disagreed over who was to get what? I had an uncle who demanded a certain amount of my grandparents' estate before it could be settled, and left town vowing not to talk to anyone in the family ever again because he was so upset about his share. He died a few years ago as a bitter old man who was still estranged from his family, some twenty years later.

What is it about great sums of money that can cause us to lose our sense of perspective? How many of us worry that we will not get our fair share?

In her book, The Soul of Money, Lynn Twist writes about the toxic myths of scarcity in our culture: “The first prevailing myth of scarcity is that there's not enough... There's not enough becomes the reason we do work that brings us down, or the reason we do things to each other that we're not proud of.”[2]

The second myth is that “…more is better. More of anything is better than what we have. It's the logical response if you fear there's not enough, but more is better drives a competitive culture of accumulation, acquisition, and greed that only heightens fear and quickens the pace of the race. And none of it makes life more valuable. In truth, the rush for more distances us from experiencing the deeper value of what we acquire or already have.”[3]

The third myth of scarcity is “that's just the way it is.” That's the way it has always been, and it's not going to change. “There's not enough to go around, more is better, and the people who have more are always people who have more than us. It's not fair, but we'd better play the game because that's just the way it is…”[4]

These myths of scarcity underlie not only our anxieties about money, but our anxieties about all of life. From the moment we wake up in the morning until we go to bed at night, our thoughts are consumed with not getting enough sleep, not getting enough done in our day, not being thin enough, pretty enough, productive enough, loved enough, smart enough or rich enough.

There was an anxious guy in the crowd surrounding Jesus some 2000 years ago. He was consumed by worry that he was not getting as much as his brother. In fact, he was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he interrupted Jesus' teachings on spiritual matters to ask for help! Jesus had just told the people who were crowded around him that he would stand up for them if they claimed his teachings in public. “When they bring you before the synagogues, the rulers, and the authorities,” he told them, ”Do not worry about how you are to defend yourselves or what you are going to say; for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that very hour what you ought to say.” It's at this point that our anxious friend pipes up: “Jesus, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”

And as he waits for Jesus' response, we wait with him. After all, we want our fair share. We want to know that everyone will get an equal share of the pie, and that no one's slice will be any larger than anyone else's. We too want the family treasures, and we don't like it when one sibling gets more than another. As we wait, we begin to have the sense that Jesus is exasperated by the question. Apparently, these issues of financial security that seem to be so important to us don't mean a thing to Jesus. He has no interest in presiding over some sort of small-claims court. Sure enough, instead of remedying the situation, Jesus tells a parable: There was a rich man who had such an abundance of crops that he built new barns to store them. Pleased with himself, he told his soul to relax, to eat, drink and be merry for many years to come, and then he promptly dropped dead, unable to enjoy his new found wealth. We stand next to the anxious man with our mouths agape. “Oh,” he says, “oh” we say. And Jesus tells him, tells us, “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

Like a fairy tale or a fable, parables were told to teach valuable lessons. What can we learn from this story? The rich fool in the parable wasn't dishonest. He didn't try to cheat anyone out of anything. He didn't steal or do anything illegal to come by his wealth. His folly was in covetousness, “the failure to see the distinction between what one has and what one is.”[5] Covetousness exists in many forms. At times, it appears as the desire to possess what belongs to another. But it can also appear as the desire to accumulate when one already has enough to meet one's needs. The inability to discern when enough is enough can lead to hoarding, which disregards the needs of others and puts goods before God.

We tend to think of abundance as “living the good life” and “having it all.” When in fact, the act of acquiring more possessions has a way of distancing us from the abundant life that we most seek. Our psalm and our parable both point to one sobering truth: No matter how much money we make, no matter how many possessions we acquire, we won't be able to purchase life everlasting. No mansion is big enough; no privacy fence is high enough to lock out death. Rich and poor alike will die and be placed in the ground. In the end, our possessions will not bring us any comfort. Only our relationship with God will.

This was a radical message in Jesus' time and it is ever more so today in our consumer-driven culture. Everywhere we turn we are bombarded with commercials and advertisements convincing us to spend money we don't really have on things we don't really need. We are told that if we only buy certain products we will be more popular, look more attractive, feel younger and healthier, even ward off death itself! How enticing it all sounds – especially when we're feeling depressed or unattractive.

Like the poor man in today's children's story, The Treasure, who spends his whole life seeking a treasure when it's right under his nose the whole time, we spend all of our time and money trying to find happiness and fulfillment, when we possess it within us already. Our treasure is within us, but to find it, we “must leave the busy commotion of the mind and abandon the desires of the ego and enter into the silence of the heart.”[6] Only there will we discover our greatest desire, and fulfill our greatest need.

Frederick Buechner writes:

In a sense we are all hungry and in need, but most of us don't recognize it. With plenty to eat in the deepfreeze and a roof over our heads and a car in the garage, we assume that the empty feeling inside must be just a case of the blues that can be cured by a weekend in the country or an extra martini at lunch or the purchase of a color TV. The poor, on the other hand, are under no such delusion. When Jesus says, “Come unto me all ye who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28), the poor stand a better chance than most of knowing what he's talking about and knowing that he's talking to them. In desperation they may even be willing to consider the possibility of accepting his offer. This is perhaps why Jesus on several occasions called them peculiarly blessed.[7]

It is our spiritual poverty, our deep hunger for more meaning in our lives, which leads us to buy more in order to attempt to satisfy our deepest desires. The spin-doctors in the advertising agencies know just how to reach through and touch our insecurities. Jesus reaches through to touch our very essence. He warns us,” Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one's life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” (Luke 12:15) And he cautions us that we can gain the whole world and still lose our own souls. (Luke 9:25) What is important, he tells us, is not what we have, but how we relate to others and to God. What we hold most precious to us will take hold of us. If we value material possessions above all else, we risk being controlled by them, to the extent that we may lose family and friends in the process. If we invest in our relationship with God above all else, we will be richly blessed in ways we cannot even begin to imagine. “For,” as Jesus says, “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Luke 12:34)

Let us pray:

Help us, O God, to look up from our house plans and stock quotes and even our church budgets. Help us to listen for the word that refuses to be market driven. Help us to listen for the Voice that leads us out of anxiety and into abundant life. Help us turn, with all the richness of our very being, to you. And live.[8] Amen.

[1] Star Ledger, Monday, July 27, 1998.

[2] :Lynne Twist, The Soul of Money, (New York: W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., 2003,) p.49.

[3] Ibid, p.50.

[4] Ibid, p.53.

[5] Fred Craddock, et. al., Preaching Through the Christian Year, (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1994,) p.360.

[6] Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love, (New York: Viking Penguin, 2006) p.197.

[7] Frederick Buechner, Listening to Your Life, (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1992,) p.201.

[8] Prayer adapted from Martha P. Sterne, Pastor of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Maryville, TN. Published in The Christian Century, July 15-22, 1998, p. 677.