| Sermon for the 9th Sunday after Pentecost |
|
Nathan Humphrey Saint James Monkton Ecclesiastes 1:12-14, 2:1-23; Colossians 3:5-17; Luke 12:13-21 Proper 13, Year C August 5, 2001 King Solomon, to whom the book of Ecclesiastes is attributed, was the son of the great King David and reputed to be the wisest man in the world. Most of us are doubtless familiar with the story recounted in the Old Testament book of I Kings, chapter three, where two women who had given birth around the same time came before Solomon. One of the infants had died, and the one woman accused the other, saying "This woman's son died in the night, because she lay on him. She got up in the middle of the night and took my son from beside me while I slept...when I rose in the morning to nurse my son, I saw that he was dead; but when I looked at him closely, clearly it was not the son I had borne." So Solomon says "'Bring me a sword. Divide the living boy in two; then give half to the one, and half to the other.' But the woman whose son was alive said to the king-- because her compassion for her son burned within her-- 'Please, my lord, give her the living boy; certainly do not kill him!' The other said, 'It shall be neither mine nor yours; divide it.' Then the king responded 'Give the first woman the living boy; do not kill him. She is his mother.'" Hence the phrase "as wise as Solomon." And so it is with this traditional identification of the "Teacher" of Ecclesiastes with wise King Solomon that we are to read the first lesson this morning. And there we learn that this king, though blessed with every conceivable gift-- wisdom, houses, vineyards, forests, slaves, herds and flocks, gives himself up completely and utterly to despair, for he says: "I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to those who come after me-- and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish?" In other words, old Sol realized "you can't take it with you." Not a happy thought, to be sure, but why does it eat away at him so? It looks to me like Solomon forgot about the two women who quarreled over possession of the child. For there we meet a woman so greedy she is willing to have an infant hewn in twain by a sword, and a woman so compassionate that she is willing to give up her only begotten son in order to save his life. To her, the child is not a possession, but a gift. Solomon, recognizing this, declares "She is his mother." You know, given the facts of the story, we can't tell who really was the biological mother. For all we know, Solomon's judgement might have been contradicted by a DNA test. But that just goes to show the difference between knowledge, which deals with cold, hard facts, and wisdom, which deals with warm, living relationships. For which woman would you rather were your mother? And so we have a lesson in contrasts: King Solomon in the story of the two women imparts an important lesson about greed. But the teacher and king of Ecclesiastes forgets that people and things are not there simply to fulfill his own needs and desires, however legitimate they may be. This king is so obsessed with the fact that those houses and vineyards are his houses and vineyards, those forests and slaves are his forests and slaves, those herds and flocks are his herds and flocks-- indeed, that his toil and wisdom are his toil and wisdom-- that he loses sight of the fact that all these things are not possessions, but gifts. And as long as he is only concerned with what these gifts do for him, he will not be happy. "So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God," Jesus says. That one woman in compassion for her child was rich toward God. But the king and teacher of Ecclesiastes, and the rich man of Jesus' parable, are not. As Jesus also says, "Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one's life does not consist in the abundance of possessions." But what exactly does one's life consist in? What is lacking in our attitude toward our own abundance? A clue may be found, I believe, by asking: What is lacking in the king's attitude toward all he has? What is lacking in the rich man's attitude when he says to himself "relax, eat, drink, be merry"? Both the king of Ecclesiastes and the rich man of Jesus' parable are concerned with themselves alone. Their attitude consists solely in what their possessions can do for them, and there is no consideration of what these things mean in the larger context of their communities or in their relationship with God. This attitude is, as Paul says, a form of idolatry, that is, valuing something so much that all our priorities are put out of order, and our perspective on life and on the relationships which should be the most meaningful to us becomes morbidly distorted. Indeed, Paul doesn't pull any punches when he exhorts us to "put to death...greed (which is idolatry)." In equating greed with idolatry, he points out how easy it is for us to be distracted from the living God to dead things. The greedy woman would rather have half a dead baby than let another have a whole live one. If that's not greed, I don't know what is. So, too, the king and the rich man are so concerned with their possessions that instead of possessing their possessions, their possessions end up possessing them! What the king and the rich man lack in their attitude toward what they possess is summed up in one simple word: gratitude. Without gratitude, we are greedy. Without gratitude, we cannot be generous. The opposite of greed is generosity. And generosity comes from a thankful heart. If we give begrudgingly, or out of guilt, I can guarantee that one thing we won't feel is generous. Which is why it's so hard to teach some children to share. It always amazes me. Some children seem to be naturally generous; they are also naturally thankful for what they have and see no need to be possessive. Other children are naturally stingy; they always say "mine," and they always say "I want." I don't know which kind of child I was, though I'm sure if I asked my mother she would of course reply at once that I was a perfect child. But for most of us, generosity and gratitude are things learned rather than inborn. We have to practice them constantly. And the primary way in which we as a Christian community practice the fine art of gratitude is in the Eucharist. In fact, we call the Eucharist "the Great Thanksgiving," because that is what the Greek work "Eucharist" means, "thanksgiving," or literally, "good grace." It is in the Eucharist that we give thanks to God for God's own self-emptying generosity, a generosity embodied by Jesus Christ, who "though he was in the form of God did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited" greedily, "but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave...And being found in human form he humbled himself" even unto "death on a cross." This incarnate generosity becomes embodied in us when we partake of Christ's Body and Blood. By participating in this act of profound gratitude, we become more like Christ in his own self-giving generosity, and empowered by grace to show that generosity to others, and even, when we need it most, to ourselves. At least that's the way it's supposed to work. Unfortunately, it's still possible to come to church every week (or every other week), receive the Eucharist, and then go home and despair over all the toil and chasing after wind that the teacher and king of Ecclesiastes describes. So what is it that makes the crucial difference? Again, Paul, who never lacks for answers, points the way; he writes to the Colossians "Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful...With gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." For me, at least, I have to be intentional about making my time in church worship time. If I don't pay attention to what I'm thinking and feeling, if I sing the hymns but don't register the words, if I mumble the creed but don't get delightfully confused by it every single time I say it, then I know something's missing. But when we pay attention to how we worship, and when we worship God with gratitude, we combat the possessive power of greed; we become servants of God, not slaves to mammon. And so this morning I ask you: how do you worship God best? For me, it's through music; I'd sing the entire liturgy, including the sermon, if I could. My father, on the other hand, is lucky if he can get through "Happy Birthday to You" without going off-key, and so I suspect for him his gateway into worship is by another route.
And so, in conclusion: if you are able to answer for yourself how you best
worship God, you will find one of the most wonderful secrets to living a
life of gratitude and generosity. And then, when our deacon, Barbara
exclaims "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord" or "Let us go forth into
the world, rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit," you will hear it as a
call to grateful generosity, and you will put to death that possessive
spirit called greed. Amen.
|