Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23 • Psalm 49:1-12 • Colossians 3:1-11 • Luke 12:13-21
Several years ago, when I was serving as a Jesuit Volunteer in St. Louis, I had this grand idea. I was going to find some way to help the homeless people I was working with to truly feel valued. Without a home, without work, and without hope, the homeless clients at St. Patrick Center, Missouri’s largest non-profit serving the homeless, are the forgotten ones of society. How could I help them remember they were truly beloved children of God? How could they remember that just because they did not have any possessions or any home to call their own, they still had dignity?
My idea was: let’s bring them to St. Louis Symphony Hall for a concert. That was something they never would usually get to experience. The music would inspire them, make their jaws drop, make them see what working people did for enjoyment. So I wrote the symphony and asked for some tickets, and they gave us a whole set of them, and one cold December night I met about ten of our homeless clients at the gorgeous stone edifice called Symphony Hall. As we walked in to the atrium, it was as if the Peanut Gallery had arrived in the middle of cocktail hour. Amidst the suits, sweater vests and evening gowns, these folks looked like total misfits. But they didn’t seem to mind. Their eyes were too busy looking at all the chandeliers, the woodwork and the red-carpeted stairways to notice the gawkers. When we made our way to our seats, I thought, hey, they are really getting in to this…all this opulence…they dig it!
So the concert was about to begin, and I was teaching them about not clapping in between movements…and this violinist plays a beautiful rendition of a Rachmaninoff Violin Concerto—and they love it! They’re cherishing this moment like I hoped they would! Or at least I thought. Then the second half came around…and within a few minutes, I looked over and near everyone was….asleep! No! I thought. Are they bored? What did I do wrong? Do they not understand what’s going on?! Do they know how rude it is to snore during these concerts? I was furious with them and with myself. And I looked up at this big barn of a hall that surrounded us…this enormously beautiful space and thought…this was a mistake.
But then…the symphony the orchestra began playing a slow movement…a long, drawn out beautifully soft piece…and the last remaining few who weren’t sleeping closed their eyes. And I realized that no, I was wrong. They did get it. They totally had all they needed. What they needed that night was not this big barn of a place to dazzle them. It turns out all they needed was a warm, comfortable place to rest, and lay their weary heads. That was enough. And on top of that, they had a lullaby! That was all they needed to be valued. As they walked out that night, I bet there was no one more satisfied and refreshed than those ten people.
That big barn—Symphony Hall—was indeed awe inspiring…but such a big barn wasn’t necessarily what was needed to make these people feel rich and important. The barn they needed in fact was tiny…small…in comparison. A roof was enough.
Jesus says in today’s parable from Luke that being rich does not necessarily mean we are rich towards God. Being rich in our IRA’s, our bank accounts, our home values, having the corner office…is not what makes us rich with God.
So what does make us rich? If wealth, success or stuff isn’t the answer then what does make us truly valued? God sends that priceless treasure to us relentlessly and unceasingly in the person of Christ! In Christ, we become as one theologian puts it, “more than enough people.” We become full with all that we need and more. Gifted by Christ, we become a people who have the body of Christ all around us, who have relationships with God and neighbor…relationships that bless us with a treasure that does not lose its value over time. Christ comes to dwell in relationship…in his fullness of life…in us! And so our relationships, rather than our stuff, become the channels of the treasure of Christ given to us by God. That is the source of the good life, the meaningful life, a life made rich towards God. As “more than enough people”, we receive our whole lives not as something to keep to ourselves, but gifts to be cared for and given away…in community.
The poor folk, sitting at the symphony, fast asleep, may not seem to have been rich, but they truly were made rich that night! They did not need a big barn called Symphony Hall. All they needed was a barn…a roof over their heads…a place of comfort and safety and rest.
That struggle that the poor fight daily to find that treasure is one that we are told in America is a struggle they can win if they work hard, and play by the rules…that’s the American Dream: the self-made, self-maximized individual. But these myths forget that none of what we own or possess is ever truly ours…everything is a gift from God.
So the question then for us is, as people made rich towards God in Christ, as people who live in a more than enough economy, will we hoard that gift and instead build an economy of accumulation—of building bigger and bigger barns for ourselves? Or, will we invest our treasure in God’s economy, where the need for “more” gives way to open hands that give away all we have that are gifts from God. In God’s economy, all do not necessarily have the same amount…but all have enough.
The suffering of some while others can say to themselves, “relax, eat, drink [and] be merry” challenges us to let go of our pride and our individualism…and to seek a more just world that reflects God’s economy. Will we have faith in that economy of being rich towards God, or in the world’s economy? Faith in the god of the free market depends on the existence of a poor working underclass to serve the needs of the wealthy. The Gross National Product, a number that measures the annual amount of goods sold, is one number that helps measure the health of our country’s economy. But things like make us rich towards God don’t count in the GDP: things like volunteering at church or in our community, like taking time away from work to be with a dying parent, like serving on our local school or village board. In fact, investing time in these decrease GDP! Faith in God’s economy means a total dependence on God to provide. Faith in God’s economy sees everyone as our neighbor, as people God counts, as people living under the same roof as us. In God’s economy we take what Roman Catholics call a “preferential option for the poor”, and protect against the growth of economic injustice. Faith in God’s economy trusts that having riches is not a sign of blessing, but of our challenge to give as we’ve been given, and to believe in the value of the common good over my private good. Faith in God’s economy means there is enough to go around, and then some.
God has made us rich in Christ, and placed us in God’s economy, where Christ fills us with the fullness of God’s own loving and grace-filled life. Will our trust in the promise of this richness in Jesus lead us to protect it, or share it? Will our trust in this gift of God so orient and direct our lives that faith in God’s giving will shape our lives as givers rather than consumers? Will the cries of the poor ring in our ears as warnings against the dangers of building bigger and bigger barns for ourselves, and as cries of neighbors who long to build relationship with us?
The music of lives shaped by faith in God’s abundant life given in Christ will not be played by us. We will be the instruments of God’s own song that revives the dead to new life, that brings love out of fear. The music made in God’s economy may sound dissonant to us—as the snoring of those brothers and sisters at Symphony Hall did, providing their own little accompaniment to the orchestra. But that is the kind of music God makes when the treasure of Christ is shared—when there is plenty to go around. Amen!
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