August 5, 2007
(Tenth Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 13)
Miracles and Richness Toward God
by
The Rev. Joe Behen, Clergy Assistant
Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23 • Psalm 49:1-11 •
Colossians 3:1-11 • Luke 12:13-21
(From
The Lectionary Page)
The stories of the young man wanting Jesus to fix his inheritance and of the rich fool, as it is commonly called, both seem as if they are about possessions and responsibility. On one level, they certainly are about what we do with our stuff, but they also go much deeper. What Luke wants us to learn from Jesus here is more than simply the responsibility that we all have for what we have been given. Jesus makes reference to what life consists of, or at least what it does not consist of. “Life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” And, appropriately, the reader might ask, “so what does one’s life consist in?” Jesus also says something about being rich toward God. I would suggest that Jesus’ point here is simply this: that good stewardship of our possessions is a product of a life that is rich toward God. So rather than having us feel guilty for not giving away all of our money, I’d like to consider what this richness in God might look like.
Several years ago I went with a group of seminarians to central New Mexico for a cultural immersion into the lives of the impoverished peoples in the southwest. One day we went to observe an ancient tribal dance that was part of the Pueblo religious tradition. There were numerous other observers present, mostly folks from towns ranging from Santa Fe to Albuquerque. We were told ahead of time that a part of the tradition that we were about to see was one of hospitality to all who are present for the ritual. We were also told that to decline this kind offer or to try to pay them would be to insult them. And so all the Pueblo people in the hosting village prepared nice, sit down meals in their homes, and simply invited those that they encountered at the ritual to join them. And join them we did.
At first I was struck by the lavish generosity of these people of apparent humble means. But as I watched them serve us they seemed to take a very real delight in this kindness. It was almost as if, in serving us and thereby incorporating us into their tradition, they were simply expressing in a fundamental way something about who they are. This act of kindness seemed to incarnate, if you will, their conception of what life means. I imagined their actions as simply being a natural response to this meaning. This meal was a spiritual experience for them. It made me wonder if those who look at my own words and actions at any particular time and place get a feel for what life means to me. As Jesus’ parable of the rich fool seems to suggest, I wondered if perhaps it is not so much by asking someone, but by looking at what they do in life, that we learn what life means to them. I can easily convince myself that my highest priorities in life are quite lofty and noble. It’s a bit disturbing, however, to think that someone who comes in contact with me only once could gain some insight into what I really value in a way that I myself am blind to.
So what about the farmer in today’s parable? What have we to learn about our own lives from his? For starters, it strikes me as being curious that our farmer has to tear down his barns and rebuild them because of this nice harvest at hand. Why doesn’t he just add another barn? Biblical scholar Bernard Scott has shown that the inadequacy of the barns is supposed to alert the reader that this abundant harvest is God’s doing. Luke’s audience would have understood that any farmer should have been prepared to store a good year’s crop. But God’s abundance is something altogether different. Now, in Genesis, when this kind of supernaturally abundant harvest was given to Egypt under Joseph’s management, it was shown to be God acting, not to give comfort and leisure to Egypt, but through Joseph to simply provide them with enough during the coming seven years of famine. The crazy volume was intimately linked with God, and it carried with it a social responsibility. Simultaneously, God was bringing Joseph’s brothers, Israel, to him through this famine so that he might show them their wrong and to offer them forgiveness and, new life. Part of this new life involved Egypt’s sharing of their abundance with Israel. Joseph understood his part in God’s miracle as one of participation in God’s purpose. It was not something that he found himself free to use for his own purpose. So it would appear that the farmer in Luke’s gospel has a responsibility with this miracle that has been laid before him. It is a sign of God’s love for God’s people, a gift of which this farmer is to be the steward. This farmer, however, proceeds to show us how to mismanage God’s miracle.
Again, it would be easy to think about the bank accounts and homes full of stuff that many of us have and simply to feel guilty, but if that’s as far as we get, then we’ve missed the point. To look at this parable from the positive, we could consider what it is that would cause the farmer to respond more generously to God’s miracle. In other words, how would generosity with the harvest be simply all that makes sense to him? How could it come to be that keeping God’s miracle for his own purpose would simply sound absurd to the farmer? And to us? I believe that the key, is in the recognition that a miracle has taken place.
So what exactly should we say constitutes a miracle, and how are we to recognize one when we experience it? Well, I like to use the word miracle in a broad sense. I would say that a miracle is simply God participating in the lives of people in a way that shows them something about what matters to God. This is important because when we see God’s hand at work in our lives and in the world, it changes how we respond to life. The farmer in the parable was simply unable to see God in his abundant harvest. Had he recognized the miracle before him, he would have had a new understanding of the nature of life as a gift from God. How he responds is simply the measure of this understanding. But to see a miracle in the world and to recognize it as such, we have to be looking for it. We have to expect it to happen. If God desires to share abundant life with us then God will in fact do this. And the ways in which God does this are, I think, infinite in both nature and in quantity. I consider my own experience among the Pueblo people to be a miracle. I saw not simply some poor but exceedingly generous people but lives that expressed God’s presence to me.
C. S. Lewis once wrote that, “miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.” Now, if God’s ultimate revelation to humanity is the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, then we might say that miracles are little incarnations of the gospel. Joseph forgave and basically saved what existed of Israel at that time. That event speaks in a smaller way to what Christ did and does for us, for all time. The lives of saints represent in some way the life of Christ. And these actions of God, these miracles, happen all around us. People suffer the pain of bone marrow transplant for complete strangers. Students put aside brilliant LSAT scores to teach school children who live on the margin of society, simply because those children need them. A baby looks up at her mother and loves her simply because she’s there. And the people of a parish located in the midst of homelessness spend their time and pool their resources to feed the hungry and to try to keep some of them in their homes. Miracles are happening in these and in countless other places every day. The question is this: are we able to see God in them?
So when we understand our lives to be primarily about God sharing God’s love for us, and about our returning that love as we are able, then miracles are expected. They are simply part of life. They become a sign of what we already knew, and a way for us to share in God’s love. Earlier in Luke’s gospel Jesus said to his disciples about miracles, “I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; nevertheless,” he said, “do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven." So I don’t think that Jesus is telling us about our participation in the miracles of life as our harnessing of great power, but rather he is telling us about what we will experience life to be when we choose to make our lives about participating in God’s love.
So when we look at the immensity of the suffering in the world and decide that the little we could do won’t make a real difference, are we in fact denying God’s desire to share God’s purpose with others through us? Do the actions that result from such despair collectively begin to show that what we believe most deeply about life is less related to God and God’s love than to self-preservation, anxiety, and fear? But when we expect to see signs in our daily life of God’s desire to share God’s love with us and with others, we are in fact opening our hearts to see the miracle, to see God’s presence in our life. And we have in fact, become fertile ground for a life of richness in God. Expect it.
Amen.
