You Are Set Free

Luke 13:10-17

August 24, 2025

 

In the last years of my mom’s life, she walked bent over. She had very little strength left in her upper body, and she could not hold herself up straight when she walked. There were a multitude of reasons for this. She had osteoporosis. She had a complex and difficult back surgery in the early 2000’s that never seemed to help, and the recovery from that was so awful that she gave up on trying to get her full strength back. There were many reasons as to why she was so bent over, but I remember watching her and thinking, “I don’t want that to be me.”

I am my mother in many ways, and that makes me happy most of the time because she was funny and smart and a great mom. But if I’m lucky enough to live another 30 years, I don’t want to be bent over and stooped like she was. I want to avoid that if possible. So, I exercise. I’ve started swimming again. I take my vitamins, and I try to be conscious of my posture – although that’s going to take a lot more effort on my part. I’m trying to avoid becoming my mother in that way because I know that she was in a lot of pain in the last years of her life. Her back hurt. Her knees hurt. She just hurt. And I wish she would not have had to live with that.

My mom was probably really stooped for maybe five years – although my memory may be off – and that caused her ongoing pain. If five years of this was bad, I cannot imagine 18 years. I cannot imagine 18 years of pain, never being able to straighten up, never being able to look up and around. I cannot imagine 18 years of having only one view – your feet and the ground below you.

18 years. That is how long the woman in this passage from Luke’s gospel was bent over, unable to stand up straight. To be fair, the scripture does not tell us specifically that the woman was in pain, but having watched my mother, I can well imagine she was. Being so dramatically bent over, in a constant stooped position, unable to straighten even a little bit, must have been painful. You can’t be bent over that severely for almost two decades and not have some pain as a consequence.

The passage notes that she was bent over due to a spirit that crippled her, which may have been a spinal disease or another physical ailment that was not understood. Yet this crippling condition did not prevent the woman from coming to the synagogue on the Sabbath. She came to worship and to honor the Sabbath as she had probably been doing all her life. There’s nothing in the text to indicate that she came for any reason other than that. But on this sabbath day, everything changed. Everything changed because Jesus was there

Jesus was in the synagogue teaching, and he saw this woman. Verse 11 reads,

“And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years.”

As I understand it, women were not allowed to be where the men were. Women did not approach rabbis. And as I’ve already said, there is no indication from the text that this woman came looking to be healed. There were no family or friends advocating for her. There was no one trying to get Jesus’ attention, and she was not trying to get his attention. She appeared, which sounds almost magical, but I don’t believe it is a reference to magic. She appeared because Jesus saw her. Maybe he was the first person to truly see her in 18 long years. Maybe he was the first person to really see her in her whole life. If it seemed that she just appeared there, it may be because when Jesus saw her, others finally saw her too.

When Jesus saw this bent over, crooked, stooped woman, he called her over, and said to her,

“Woman, you are set free from your ailment.”

Then he laid his hands on her, and she immediately stood up straight! Her spine released, her back unfurled, her shoulders squared, and she stood straight. And the straightening of her spine freed her not only from pain but freed her to praise God with a joyful voice. She stood straight and began to praise God.

This should be where the story ends. This should be where we insert our “Amens” and “Alleluias” and move on giving thanks ourselves. But her praise was interrupted by the leader of the synagogue. In the wake of this healing, his response was not joy but outrage. He is indignant that Jesus healed this woman on the Sabbath. The Law is clear – healing on the Sabbath could only happen in critical, emergency situations. Yet what was critical about this woman’s circumstance? She was bent over for 18 years! One more day would not have made a difference. The leader was furious with Jesus, but he did not confront Jesus directly. Instead, he vents his ire on the woman and the crowd gathered.

“There are six other days of the week. Come to be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”

In other words, don’t mess with the Sabbath. There were specific rules as to what could happen on the Sabbath and what could not. A non-urgent healing that could have happened any other day did not qualify as a legitimate Sabbath healing. The leader knew this. The crowds knew this. The woman knew this. Jesus knew this. But it was on this day, this Sabbath day, that Jesus saw her. He saw this woman when clearly others had not. Her condition most likely made her invisible to the larger society, just as can happen today. But she was not invisible to Jesus. He saw her. And when he saw her, he saw her need, and he healed her. He chose to help, Sabbath or no Sabbath.

Jesus’ response to the leader and the crowds was immediate as well.

“You hypocrites! Does not each of your on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham who Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?”

Commentators note that Jesus’ argument is based on the Hebrew qal v-homer model, which is “from the lighter to the greater.” If you feed and care for your donkeys and oxen on the Sabbath, then you should be free to care for someone in need on the Sabbath as well. Even if that need is a chronic condition. If not now, when?

This is not the first time that Jesus butted heads with the religious professionals over what should and should not be allowable on the Sabbath. He has healed others on the Sabbath. His disciples gathered food on the Sabbath. Was it that Jesus did not care about the Law or did he not care about the Sabbath?

It seems to me that Jesus cared a great deal about both the Law and the Sabbath, but he understood what others did not. He understood the intent of the Law. He grasped the deeper reason for the Sabbath. The Law was not given as a means of binding the people, restricting them. It was given as a gift. It was given to free them, to free them from what keeps them from being in relationship with God and with others. The Sabbath was not meant for restrictions but for rest. What better time to be healed than on the Sabbath? What better time to be freed than on the day when everyone came together to worship and give thanks to God? What better day was there to be set free?

What would it mean to us to hear these words today? What would it mean to leave this place, this sacred time, this holy hour, and be freed from what ails us? To be freed from the burdens that weigh us down and stoop our shoulders and bend us toward the ground? What would it mean to be told, “You are free.”?

Think again about the woman’s perspective for those 18 years. She was so bent over that she could really only see her feet and the ground below her. She could not make eye contact with anyone. I imagine that she became quieter and quieter as a result, silencing her voice because who would listen? She lost the ability to see the sun and the sky. She lost the ability to see anyone around her. She was invisible. So, consider what you carry this day. What is keeping you bent over? What is preventing you from using your voice? What is isolating you from others? What burdens you and keeps you from standing straight and praising God?

I am a religious professional, and I know how easily I can slip into the mindset of the synagogue leader. I want things done in a certain way and in a certain order. There are some things that should happen in worship and some that should not. When Jesus freed the woman, maybe he also wanted to free the leader too. Maybe he also wanted to free the crowds. There is no better day to be set free than today. There is no better time to be set free than this time.

So, here is the good news. You are set free. You are set free from what binds you. You are set free from what stoops your shoulders and bends your spine. You are set free from what makes you invisible. You are set free from what keeps you from praising God, from using your voice. You are set free. I am set free. We are set free. The good news of the gospel sets us free to live and love as God calls us to live and love. The good news of the gospel sets us free to be the people God created us to be, to be fully and truly human, just as Jesus was fully and truly human. We are set free to be compassionate, to heal, to hope, to share, to care, to live, to love. We are set free. Thanks be to God. Go and tell others this good news. Go and set others free too.

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”

Amen.

 

Wait, What?

Luke 12:49-56

August 17, 2025

 

            There is an article in this month’s Christian Century magazine written in tribute of Walter Brueggemann, now of blessed memory. Brueggemann was a renowned biblical scholar of Old Testament, particularly in hearing and interpreting the prophets. He was a prolific writer, and his book The Prophetic Imagination was required reading when I was in seminary, and I believe that it is still required in many seminaries today. The author of this article, Jason Edwards, wrote that “Brueggemann was not interested in easy answers or sanitized interpretations. … He did not ask the biblical text to be safe; he asked it to speak. And when it did, he stayed.” [i]

            He did not ask the biblical text to be safe; he asked it to speak. The text from the gospel of Luke that is before us this morning is one that I am asking to speak, even though our initial response may be wait, what? What did it say? What did Jesus say? Wait, what?

            Last week, we heard Jesus tell those around him not to worry, not to be afraid. We heard that it was God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom. We heard that when the master comes home, he will have the servants sit at the table and he will serve them. And this week, as we move to these last closing verses in chapter 12, we read that Jesus now declares that he “came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”

            Jesus states that he has a baptism with which to be baptized and that he is under great stress until it is completed. Then he declares that the people think he has come to bring peace on earth. But he has not come to bring peace. He has come to bring division. Households will be divided. Families will be divided. Fathers against sons. Mothers against daughters. Mothers-in-law against daughters-in-law. He has come not to bring peace on earth but division. Wait? What?

            So this is what Jesus, and the text are speaking. But what does it mean? Jesus says that he has a baptism with which to be baptized and that he is under great stress until that baptism is accomplished. We know that he has already been baptized in the Jordan by John. That is not the baptism that he referring to. The larger context of these verses is that Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem. He has set his face toward that city, which means that he is moving toward the cross. There is no turning back. This die has been cast. So, the baptism that Jesus is referring to is not one of immersion but crucifixion. The baptism for which he in great stress is waiting is his own death into new life. I imagine he was under stress. Terrible stress.

The Greek word translated as “stress” in my version of the Bible means a “squeezing.” It is a pressing in. Jesus is being squeezed and pressed. Pretty accurate way of describing stress isn’t it? When I am under an enormous amount of stress I feel as though I am being squeezed and pushed and pressed from all sides. Jesus is feeling this. He has been trying all along to show the people that the kingdom of God is already in their midst. Now he tells them that it’s obvious.  They can look at a rain cloud and realize it is going to rain. They can feel the south wind blowing and know that the heat will be upon them. But what’s right in front of their eyes, they can’t see!  Why can’t they just get it? 

            So Jesus has not come to bring peace. He brings division. These words may disturb and perturb us, but hasn’t this has been true all along? Jesus was run out of his hometown. His own mother and brothers think he has gone off the deep end. He’s ticked off just about every religious leader he’s encountered. He has confused and scared people. He heals one person only to anger another person with that same healing. Jesus assures the people who surround him of God’s love, but he also tells them that God is more than just words on scrolls or rules to be adhered to. God is in their midst. God is working among them. The power of God’s Holy Spirit is blowing new life into what was dead. Everything is shaken, stirred, changed. Because when God comes, things happen, life changes. Who said that would be easy or painless? Who said that the peace of God would be a warm fuzzy? Who said that the coming of the kingdom would make everybody feel just great? Not Jesus. The coming of the kingdom brings abundant life. But that life comes out of death, it comes out of change. And change can and does bring division.

            When I used to read these words, it seemed like Jesus wanted to bring division. That was his sole purpose and plan. And that just seemed counter intuitive and just plain counter to all the Good Shepherd images of Jesus that I have been clinging to since childhood. But as scholar and writer Debie Thomas wrote, and I paraphrase, too often we interpret these words of Jesus as being prescriptive. That he is telling people that this is what he does, and we read into it that this is what they should do as well. But Jesus is not prescribing. He is describing. These are the consequences of his coming into the world. These are the consequences of his preaching and teaching. These are the consequences of people accepting his word – or not. Division may not be his intent, but division is what happens.

            Yet even as I understand that Jesus was being descriptive instead of prescriptive that doesn’t make these words of division any easier for me to hear or to take to heart. When I hear these words speaking from scripture, I don’t want to stay as Brueggemann did. I don’t want to stay because they seem to fly in the face of the idea of unity that I have been taught all my life. We are to be one, unified, together, no matter what. No matter what our external differences may be, we are one. But Jesus was not talking about unity in these verses, was he? He was saying that the consequence of his coming, of his teaching and preaching, of him just existing, was not unity but division. The crowds around him were not joining hands and singing Kum Ba Yah. But that’s what I thought we were supposed to do! Right?! We are all just supposed to get along.

            But following Jesus, following the gospel can divide you from people that you love. It provokes a crisis in those who take it seriously. By crisis, I mean that point when you cannot unsee what you have seen. You cannot go back to where you were before. Following Jesus and taking the gospel seriously evokes cognitive dissonance – that tension between what is and what should be. The gospel makes me question what I know and see and understand because I get a glimpse of the difference and the distance between what is and what God wants. And sometimes in that crisis, in that cognitive dissonance, unity is not possible – not if it means unifying around what is contrary to the gospel. When I let the scripture speak, when I remember that Jesus’ words, these stories, these difficult, challenging texts are more than just words on a page, but a living gospel, I am disturbed and disrupted and definitely not at peace with myself. I am definitely not safe, and nothing about following Jesus feels easy or light. Maybe you feel the same.

I suspect that if we’ve been paying attention, we should already know this about our faith, about our call. We should already know the division that Jesus speaks of. We know that following Jesus doesn’t always win us friends. Speaking the truth in love doesn’t prevent rejection of that truth. Loving others as Jesus loved us does not make them love us back. Following Jesus means risk. Trusting that the message of the gospel is not just about ten easy steps to get to heaven but is instead a message of radical reversal. Following Jesus, letting the gospel speak is risky and challenging and scary. The gospel isn’t nice, and it isn’t easy, and it is not safe.

            But the gospel changes how we understand love, success, power and greatness, and preaching that gospel message might not bring people rushing to the pews on a Sunday morning.  But if we take Jesus’ words seriously, we do it anyway. We love anyway. We give anyway. We follow anyway; we risk anyway because being a disciple isn’t just about being nice. It’s rarely nice. It means change and pain and division and stress.  Jesus was stressed.  He was being squeezed and pressed and pushed and pulled. But he never wavered from the path to the cross. So as hard as it is to hear these difficult and challenging words, because they aren’t what we expect or want, we must hear them. We must take them seriously. Even if they make us pause and say, wait? What? Even though it causes great stress, we, in the words of the author of Hebrews, keep running the race before us. None of it is easy, but it was never meant to be easy. None of it is safe, but it was never meant to be safe. But we are called to keep running, to keep persevering, to keep following Jesus because following Jesus has never mattered more than it does right now. Following Jesus, letting the scripture speak, is what could make all the difference. And if there is a word of comfort in these difficult passages it comes from Hebrews. We are not the only ones who faced these challenges, who lived in this tension, who felt this squeezing stress. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, by all the faithful who persevered, never knowing where the race would take them. But they raced anyway. That is the good news. That is the gospel. Thanks be to God.

            Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”

            Amen.

           

 

 

 

---

[i] Jason Edwards, The Christian Century, August 2025

Where Is Your Heart?

Luke 12:22-40

August 10, 2025

 

            I was a huge fan of the show Downtown Abbey. And when I say, “huge”, I mean HUGE! But my love of British period dramas did not begin with this show. When I was a kid, I used to watch Masterpiece Theatre with my parents and the show that they loved was Upstairs, Downstairs. Both Downtown Abbey and Upstairs, Downstairs told the intricate stories of all the occupants of grand houses. Both series told the stories of the family who lived upstairs; families who often had more titles and land than money. And the series told the stories of the servants who were the heart of the house, who kept the grand house running and functioning.

            One thing that the servants downstairs knew instinctively was that they had to be ready at a moment’s notice to take care of the needs of the family. These houses had routines, certainly, and the meals and other aspects of daily life were well-structured, but even with that structure and routine, the servants had to be ready at a moment’s notice for any surprises that might pop up, for any change in schedule that might occur. The undercurrent of their jobs was to be prepared and ready for whatever may come.

            This sounds a little like what we read in verses 35 through 38 of our passage from Luke’s gospel this morning. Jesus exhorts those who are listening to

“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks.”

Every biblical commentator that I have read in preparation to preach this passage has said the same thing about the phrase, “Be dressed for action.” While this sounds like the servants, the slaves who are waiting for their master should be in their daily uniforms – like the servants, the butler, the housekeeper, the housemaids and footmen, were always dressed in specific uniforms that spoke to their rank and type of service – what it really means, what it more literally means is “gird your loins.” In other words suit up and step up. You have to be ready. None of this is going to be easy. And if you’re prepared and ready, good. That’s what you are supposed to be. But Jesus goes on to finish these verses by saying,

“But know that if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

When I read these words in preparation for today, I thought, “Oh great Apocalyptic imagery. Another reminder that God will come like a thief in the night and if we’re not ready, if we’re not hyper vigilant and toeing the line than we’ll be crushed like a bug under a boot.”

And I must admit that a tremor of dread ran through me, not just because I would have to find some way to preach these words, but because they make me afraid. Fear is my first response because these sound like scary, frightening words to me. They heighten the dread, that foreboding that many of us have about the coming of God into our lives. It’s not so much good news as it is that guy on the corner wearing a sandwich board shouting,

“Beware! The world is coming to an end.”

Zach used to try and get me to play his video games with him. These games were the kind where the characters were in a constant state of battle – generally battles that involved shooting zombies – trying to outwit the creatures of the dead walking toward them and stay alive. I am lousy at these kinds of games, one because I cannot figure out how to make my character walk straight much less shoot straight. I’m usually the guy that’s stuck either looking up at the sky or down at the ground, or I’m hitting the button that makes my character jump, so I’m just jumping randomly while looking at the sky or the ground. I am also terrible at these games because when I do face a zombie, I get panicked and I can’t think fast enough. The zombies get me before I even know what’s happening.

Whenever I read passages of scripture that are apocalyptic, even in a small way, I feel that same sort of panic rise in me. I’m not prepared. I’ll never be prepared. And if the Son of Man is supposed to come like a thief in the night, that must mean bad things. That must mean that God is the great punisher, the great destroyer, so I should be afraid. Because I know that I have not lived a perfect or blameless life. I know that I make mistakes all the time. I know that my heart is not where it should be. I put too much stock in earthly things and earthly comforts and earthly safety, which really isn’t safety at all, and it seems like a terrible irony that this passage begins with Jesus’ words about not worrying, not being afraid, because that is exactly what I’m doing. I’m worrying and I’m afraid and AAAAAAHHH!!!

It seems incongruous that Jesus words about not worrying are spoken in the same breath with these words about the coming of the Master, the coming of the Son of Man like a thief in the night. But maybe it isn’t so strange and dissonant as we might think on first reading.

If you go back to the beginning of this chapter, Jesus is speaking to crowds of thousands of people. And these thousands of people are probably not in the upper echelons of that society. These are most likely the people on the bottom rung of society’s ladder. They are the peasants and the laborers and those who struggle everyday just to get by. And from the beginning Jesus tells them not to be afraid, not to be afraid of the terrors of this world, not to be afraid of those who would seek to harm them, but to trust him. Jesus is speaking about the kingdom of God versus the kingdoms of this world. And really since Pentecost, that is what the lectionary is having us consider as well. What does it mean to be the church? What does it mean to live in the kingdoms of this world and yet trust that God’s kingdom is also in our midst? And so last Sunday, we read about the rich fool, who thought that as long as he had enough security in his life, who believed that if he had enough storehouses and enough put by that he would be well, that he would have plenty of time to eat, drink, and be merry. But death came for him that very night. What good did his storehouses and worldly security do then?

And then Jesus tells those who were still listening to not worry. Look at the lilies of the field and the ravens. The flowers are clothed more gloriously than even Solomon and the ravens are always fed even though they have no storehouses or barns. Don’t worry, Jesus tells them, about striving for these things because that is what the kingdoms of the world do. That is what the nations do. They strive after the worldly goods. But strive instead for the kingdom of God. Do not fear, little flock, because it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom, the real kingdom, the true kingdom. So sell what you own and help others. Don’t make purses for treasure that can be stolen or destroyed. Seek the treasure that goes beyond anything humans can make. Focus your heart on what God gives, what the kingdom of God creates. Focus on that treasure, because whatever treasure you focus on, that is where your heart will be also.

And then just when I start to breathe again, and feel some comfort in these words, Jesus speaks the words that we began with this morning. Be ready for action. Gird your loins. Be prepared for when the master comes.

But before I have another panic attack, let’s look at what Jesus says about the master coming one more time. Does he say that when the master comes he will punish those who are not waiting, who are not ready? Not in these verses. What he does say is that when the master comes, he will invite the servants, the slaves, the lowly ones, the least ones, to sit at the table. The master will fasten his belt and have those who serve him sit at the table and eat. And he will serve them. He. Will. Serve. Them.

Those are extraordinary words. That is a complete and utter reversal of what we expect to happen. The servants are not called to be prepared so they can serve the master as soon as he walks through the door. They are to be prepared so the master can serve them, so they can sit at the table and be fed. That would not have happened in Downtown Abbey or Upstairs, Downstairs. But that is what will happen in the kingdom of God. That is what the church is called to emulate, to do, to be – a place where the least of these are as welcome at the table as those who rank higher in the kingdoms of this world. So, the question to us is, where are our hearts? Are they focused on the treasures that we create and build and hold fast? Or are our hearts focused on the treasures of God’s kingdom? The treasures of love and justice and peace?

I think the crux of this passage, the crux of this chapter, and really the heart of the entire gospel is that we are called to trust God more than we fear the world. We are called to trust in God’s promises more than we trust in what we can provide and build and store up. We are called to trust in the love and grace and peace of God embodied in Jesus more than we trust in even the best and wisest of leaders. We are called to trust God more than we fear. So maybe God coming like a thief in the night is not a reason for us to be afraid, but a reason for us to be hopeful, a reason for us to be glad.

I read a poem this week that I believe speaks to this expectant hope. This is Thief by Andrew King.

 

 

 

Break in, O holy thief.

Break into our guarded home.
Defeat the locks we fasten
against your love.

We brick the gates against justice.
We slam the doors to loving.
Our window drapes are heavy and pulled
to block the light of your peace.

O thief, break into our fortress.
Come while we doze in complacency.
Come while we sleep in our negligence.
Come while our eyes are closed to the world
that so needs us to change behaviour.

Break in.
Break in, and bring the poor in with you.
Break in, and bring the stranger.
Break in, and bring the challenges we fear,
the ones we would rather ignore.

Break in, O thief, break open these hearts
that should have invited you
long ago.

 

For where our treasure is, there our hearts will be also. Where are our hearts? Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”

Amen.

 

Treasures

Luke 12:13-21

August 3, 2025

 

            Back in 2016 country artist, Brandy Clark, a favorite of ours, released the song, Broke, on her album, Big Day In a Small Town. If you haven’t heard this or any of her albums, I highly recommend them. The song, Broke, is what the title suggests, a song about being broke. The chorus is a classic. It goes: “We're broke, we're busted, our Chevy truck is rusted. We're high and dry, ain't enough apples for the apple pie. If we had a penny, we sure couldn't spare it; sitting on the porch drinking generic Coke. We're broke”

            Another line in the song confesses to the fact that because the folks described in the song are so very, very broke, they are secretly wishing that grandma would croak. That line always makes me think of movies where a rich patriarch or matriarch of a family dies, and all the other family members gather like sharks for the reading of the will. And you can see in their eyes and their mannerisms just how desperate and greedy they are for whatever riches might be in store for them. Perhaps they have also been secretly wishing that grandma would croak, so they can get their hands on some cash. And if grandma, or grandpa, doesn’t leave them what they expect, what they think they need or deserve, then all heck breaks loose. Family members turn on other family members. Children turn on parents, and siblings turn on siblings. It is a mess. It might be better to be broke.

            We don’t know the complete back story of the man who reaches out to Jesus from the crowd, but we do know that he wanted the rabbi to settle a dispute between him and his brother over an inheritance, so I think we could make some intelligent guesses as to what might have been going on. Clearly, these two brothers are in conflict over family wealth. The one brother decides to turn to a higher authority and comes out of the crowd and asks Jesus to settle the argument between them.  

            “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”

            Moses might have agreed to do this, but Jesus will not be drawn into this kind of argument.

            “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”

            Be careful, Jesus tells him. Watch out for greed in all the ways it shows itself, whether it is over an inheritance or something else. Life is not about an abundance of possessions.

            If the story stopped right here we would have enough to talk about for a lifetime. This is a room filled with intelligent, thoughtful people, who combined bring lifetimes of experience and wisdom to the table. Every single one of us could preach an impromptu sermon on the dangers of materialism. We all know, at least intellectually, that in the end our possessions don’t mean as much as the people in our lives. We understand, whether we have experienced it or not, that possessions can be gone in the blink of the eye. Things wear out, break, and fall apart. Things can be stolen or lost or destroyed.

            Probably all of us know, as well, how hard it is not to be owned by our possessions. We may logically and intellectually realize that things we have don’t really matter, not in the long run. But we live in a world of things. We live in a culture that makes it seem that if we just own the right clothes, or goods, or toys, than we will be better people. We may not want to buy into the belief that our stuff gives us status, but we are all susceptible to it regardless.

            And even if I don’t believe that my stuff gives me status, I do hold onto things because of the memories that are attached to them. Things that my mom gave me, or my dad passed on to me, are treasures to me because they came from the people I love so dearly. I think I worry deep down that if I lose or let go of the thing I’ll lose the memory as well.

            But Jesus warns the people in this crowd then and those of us hearing these words now about greed and placing too much value on what we have and how much we have. As I said, if we stopped here, we would have enough to discuss and learn from for a lifetime. But Jesus doesn’t stop. Jesus goes on to tell a parable about a rich but foolish farmer. This farmer does not store up his grain as a stopgap for years when a plentiful harvest is just a memory. He focuses solely on himself. He is the only subject of his discourse. There is no discussion about sharing his harvest. He converses with his soul and assures his soul that he and it are okay. All is well. He has taken care of himself, so now he can relax, eat, drink, and be merry. But guess what? All is not well. That very night his life is demanded of him. And upon his death, what will happen to his stuff? What will happen to the treasure he has stored, to the things which he has prepared? Jesus ends by saying that is what happens to those “who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

            I guess I could just tell you, me, all of us, not to be greedy. Share what we have, and don’t put too much stock in our stuff. It fits. It works. It is important to remember. But I think there is more going on here than just greed. I there is more at work than a farmer wanting to keep his harvest for himself. So, let’s retell this parable in a new way.

            An executive, a professional, a professor, a manager, a pastor – you fill in the blank – made a good living, and she said to herself, “I will not only add money to my 401(k), but I will also start an IRA and diversify my portfolio. I will invest my money wisely and I will hedge my bets against the future. I will create my own security and ensure my life will be okay. My future is set.

            It seems to me that there are different kinds of greed. There is the kind of greed that is based solely on the idea that whoever has the most toys wins. But there is also the greed that is driven not by wanting more, but by fearing there isn’t enough. When I read this parable about the farmer, I didn’t see him just wanting to keep everything for himself because he is greedy. I see him trying to keep his wealth because he’s scared. He is trying to create his own security. He

stores up out of anxiety. He wants to know, to be guaranteed, that he will be okay. So, he stores up, stockpiles, and socks away to ensure just that. The tragic twist is that he and his future collide that very night.

            I think Jesus was not only warning about greed, about wanting more and more and more, he was also warning about the anxiety that fuels that endless desire. When we read the verses following the ones we read today, we’ll hear Jesus reiterate this. Don’t worry, he says. Don’t be anxious. All the material treasures in the world won’t keep you safe. So, do not worry about the riches that can bind you. Instead be rich toward God.

            But what does it mean to be rich toward God? Does that mean upping the amount we put in the offering plate each week? Does it mean giving away more because I trust God more than I trust myself? The answer to both questions is a resounding “Yes!” But I think there is even more to this than only giving away. I also wonder if Jesus is trying to make us understand what treasure really is. Maybe Jesus wants all who will hear to understand that the true treasure and the most significant way we can be rich toward God is to be rich toward others.

            I’m not talking only about charity, although there are plenty of people doing the hard and often thankless work of kindness that could use financial help. Our offering today for Presbyterian Disaster Assistance speaks to that. But I am also talking about the relationships we foster and the community that we cultivate. This week in my lectionary group, one of my colleagues stated that he thinks that a sad aspect of the parable Jesus told is that the farmer put off eating, drinking, and being merry. The farmer mistakenly believed that he could do that when he had enough, but because we have no clue as to what tomorrow will bring, we should enjoy life now. We should enjoy the good gift of God’s creation now. We should relish the beauty that God gives us, the abundance that God provides now. Stop thinking and planning and worrying only about the future if it costs you the present.

            Honestly, some of the best meals I have ever enjoyed had nothing to do with the food on my plate. They were about the people I shared those meals with. They were about the stories we told and the laughter we shared and the memories we made. If there was one blessing from Covid, from being in lockdown is that my family had more intentional meals together. Our daughter Caroline would come every few weeks, as long as we were all healthy, and we would eat together. We would sit outside on our deck and Brent would play his guitar and we would enjoy being together, and I have no memory of what I made or what we cooked. The treasure, the riches, were not about what we ate or what we owned, but about who we were with.

            And that kind of treasure doesn’t just come from the people we know and love. That treasure can be found standing in a checkout line and being kind to the person in front of you or behind you, better yet being kind to the person checking you out, or the people sitting on the curb out front asking for help. Being rich toward God means being rich toward God’s children, all God’s children. Being rich toward God means recognizing that the treasure we really need is already ours. Look around; the real treasure is sitting next to you, behind you, in the pews on the other side of the aisle. The treasure is waiting beyond these doors. Be rich toward God, be rich toward God’s children, and then we will have the treasure we seek. Thanks be to God.

            Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.” Amen.