Sermon preached by the Reverend Nicholas Lang, Rector

St. Paul’s on the Green, Norwalk, Connecticut

10^th Sunday after Pentecost, August 5, 2007

In the Name of our all-loving, gentle, embracing God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Money. It can buy a house but not a home. It can buy a clock but not time. It can buy you a position but not respect. It can buy you a bed but not sleep. It can buy you a book but not knowledge. It can buy you medicine but not health.

So you see that money isn’t everything. And it often causes pain and suffering. I tell you this because I am your friend and I want to take away your pain and suffering. So send me all your money…and I will suffer for you.

Cash only please!

Hey, what are friends for?

I sound suspiciously like the man in this Gospel who asked Jesus to make his brother give him money. Greed. It was rampant then and it’s rampant now. Then it was bigger barns; now it’s McMansions.

Let’s look at this event in a larger context. Jesus had just finished having dinner in the home of a Pharisee where he berated the guests for their greed and wickedness. They in turn have begun to plot against him and get the goods on him, so to speak.

Meanwhile, a huge crowd has gathered to listen to him teach and, in the midst of them, this guy, who is oblivious to what Jesus is all about, stands up and says. “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” Talk about missing the point. But Jesus used his rude interruption to teach a profound lesson by telling the parable of the Rich Fool and his barns – barns he built so that he could store his possessions and live high on the hog.

Just listen to how this guy talks! What should I do? I have no place to store my crops. I will do this. I will build. I will store. My barns. My grain. My goods. It’s all about me.

Sadly, this is all too familiar a scenario. I am amazed when I stop for my weekly Starbuck’s decaf, skim, vanilla latte, to find large, expensive, cars parked smack in front of the entrance, blocking one lane of egress, while some very important, greedy person gets coffee – even though the parking lot is half empty. It is an attitude that permeates life these days and at the root of it is the belief that one is entitled to it all and at anyone’s expense or discomfort – just like the jerk who got up and asked Jesus the question in this Gospel.

Greed. Methodist Bishop William Willimon, preaching on this text, tells the story of a discussion taking place on Christianity and homosexuality. A number of speakers defended their opposition to homosexuality on the basis of the defense of the American family.

Then a pastor stood up and said, “I’ve never had a family destroyed by a homosexual, but I’ve seen dozens of marriages ruined and families devastated by nothing more than greed – working too many hours, getting too deep in debt. You want to save the American family, do something about our greed.”

I had a serious wake up call on Friday – a revelation reinforced by the end of this Gospel and the fate of the Rich Man. I learned that my attorney, Michael Rome, also our parish attorney, died suddenly on May 16 in Louisiana. A good friend of his telephoned to inquire if I knew – which I did not – to share the details, and to ask about a memorial service. I was shocked.

Now let me be clear, Michael Rome was probably one of the least greedy people I have ever met. He was a fine attorney and a perfect gentleman. He was very gracious to me and my mother when he prepared our wills and other legal documents this past year, charging us a pittance. I’ll bet the only possession that really mattered to him was his lovely little dog who went to work with him every day.

Apparently, Michael had undiagnosed heart disease and, given the level of stress in his life – probably too many hours, too many deadlines, not enough time taking care of himself – he was not able to survive a heart attack.

I share this with you, not because of any connection it has with rich folk and greed, but because I know that we can all get caught up in the business of “big barns” which is a metaphor for whatever we might see as the “answer” to the good life. The gist of this Gospel lesson is that we are not really entitled to anything but the gift of life – and that is a gift from God – and we sabotage any hope for true happiness in that life if we are possessed by our possessions. The only thing that is really ours is the body housing our spirit, the body that gets up everyday, goes to work, eats and sleeps, enjoys the blessings and abundance of God’s world and, hopefully, returns thanks for it all in our corporate act of worship.

How well do we care for that body and all its amazing facets and components? Do we care for our physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being in a proactive, responsible way? How do we treat the minds, bodies and spirits of those with whom we are in any kind of relationship? Partners, family, friends, colleagues, peers? Is our trust in our ability to build bigger barns or portfolios or do we entrust our security to our all-loving God? Much fodder for reflection in this Gospel.

The story is told of a tourist from America who paid a visit to a renowned Polish rabbi. He was astonished to see that the rabbi’s house was very simple and filled with books, a table, a few chairs, and a bed.

“Rabbi,” asked the tourist, “where is your furniture?”

“Where is yours?” asked the rabbi in return.

“Mine?” questioned the puzzled American. “But I am only passing through.”

“So,” said the rabbi, “am I.”

So are we all. So are we all.