September 8, 2019
Back in the 1960s – anyone
here remember the 60s? – futurists were saying that the biggest problem that
people of the future would have would be what to do with all their leisure
time. Science and technology were coming
up with so many labor-saving devices – computers, microwaves, cell phones –
they believed we were going to end up with lots of extra free time. We would have so much free time, in fact,
that we wouldn’t know what to do with it all.
Let me ask you: you’re the
people of the future. Anyone here feel
like they have too much leisure time on their hands? Guess it didn’t work out exactly like they
were thinking.
I’m sure that there are a
number of reasons why. One of the main
reasons, however, is that the labor-saving devices didn’t actually turn out to
be labor-saving. You see, in order to
buy such devices, we needed to work so we had the money to buy it. When that
device needed repair, we needed to work more. When that device finally became
unusable, we needed to buy a new one – a model that was more expensive with
more bells and whistles. That took more money. So, in order to buy, maintain and replace
these wonderful labor-saving devices, we actually have to work more and so have
less leisure time than we did back in the 60s.
I share this with you, not to
say you should get rid of all your labor-saving devices, or even to make fun of
futurists. I share it with you to invite
you to consider your relationship to stuff, to things, to possessions.
We tend to think, regarding
our possessions, that we are in control, that we are in charge when it comes to
the things in our lives, that they exert little or no influence on us. At most, our relationship with things is
neutral or benign. We can take them or leave them, because they really have no
power over us. They don’t affect our
thinking or our acting in any way. They
do not shape our lives.
But I think we’re fooling
ourselves. I think our possessions have
more of an affect on us that we realize, more than we are ready to admit. Yes,
a possession may be useful. A possession may be meaningful. A possession may even save us labor. But what
does it take for us to hold on to that possession? What are we losing in order to continue
choosing that object over and over again? Does it get in the way of something
even more important? Does our hold on possessions have a hold on us?
I think Jesus understood this
problem. In the text immediately before
the one for today (and immediately after that one for last Sunday) Jesus tells
the story of a man who threw a huge dinner party. When things were ready, he sent out a servant
to let invited guests know it was time to sit down.
The first one said, “I’ve
just bought some property. I need to go take a look at it. Tell him I’m sorry.”
Another said, “I just bought
five teams of oxen. I need to go check them out. Sorry, but I have to cancel.”
A third said, “I just got
married. Maybe next time.”
When the servant came back
and reported this, the man became very angry.
He told the servant, “Go out into the streets and bring in everyone who
looks like they could use a square meal – it doesn’t matter who they are or
what they look like – bring them in!”
The servant said, “We’ve
already done that.”
“Then,” the man said, “Go out
everywhere and drag in everybody! I want
a full house for this party!”
Jesus knows that we all have
excuses. We all have reasons about what
is most important to us today. In this story, two of three have to do with
possessions. One has to do with family.
(Although, in Jesus’ day, women were actually considered possessions, either of
their father or of their husband.)
In today’s reading, Jesus
delivers some pretty stark words about both family and possessions, but he also
gives a warning about counting the cost – soberly assessing whether or not we
can do the job. Do we have what it
takes? Or do we need to consider other options?
Instead of going to war, do we need to ask for terms of peace?
The most difficult word that
Jesus speaks today is this little word, “hate.”
Do I really have to hate my family and my friends and even myself in
order to follow him?
In the time of Jesus, words
like hate and love were not emotion words.
They were action words. When
Jesus commands us to love our neighbor, he doesn’t mean, “Feel loving things
toward your neighbor.” He means, “Do loving things for your neighbor. Act in a
loving way toward your neighbor, whether you feel like it or not.”
So, when Jesus says that, in
order to follow him, we must hate those who are closest to us, he means, “You
must be ready to let go of what you think is most important to you – people, possessions
or plans. You must not treat them as the most important thing in your life. You
must be ready to act without being influenced by them.”
This is hard. It’s hard for
you. It’s hard for me. I don’t hate my parents, my wife, my sons, my brothers. Even though we went through a major
down-sizing a year and a half ago, I am not ready to give up all my
possessions.
So – do I send a delegation
and ask for terms of peace? Is there
another way of organizing my life and setting my priorities?
Last Sunday, Sylvia and I
attended Burlington Lutheran Church. We
got to hear Pastor Bethany Hull Sommers.
In her preaching on the table etiquette advice from Jesus, Bethany cited
a 19th century economist, Silvio Gessel.
Gessel proposed that money have an expiration date. This would ensure that the money would not
sit and “rot like potatoes,” in his words. It would not be hoarded. Rather, it would be reinvested in the
economy.
I’m not an economist. I’m not sure I can make a fair assessment of
Gessel’s idea in economic terms. But it
seems to me to be provocative as a spiritual idea. What if not only money, but everything had an
expiration date on it? What would you do
with your money of you knew that it would disappear by the end of the
year? Would you still hang on to
it? Would you spend it? How would you
spend it?
Think of the things in your
house. What if they came with a sticker that read, “Best if used by…?” How would you regard them? Would spend more time using them? Or less? Would you go out and spend more money and buy
more things because you knew that your life would be empty of things in a few
months if you didn’t act fast? “Oh, these books are going to be rotten by
Thanksgiving. I need to go out and buy fresh
books!” (Books are my favorite possessions.)
And what about people? What
if people had an expiration date on them?
They actually do, you know. They
may be a very important part of our lives now.
We might not be able to imagine our lives without them. This is especially true of parents. They will always be here, right? But
tomorrow? Who knows? Does the fact that
they may not be around for the rest of our lives make them more worthy of our
attention now or less? Does it make them
less valuable since they won’t be around forever? Or does it make them more precious?
Of course, it’s not only
other people who have an expiration date.
We all have an expiration date.
It’s not attached to our bodies or tattooed on our skin. Every one of us has an expiration date. Knowing that, how do you view your own
life? Does it scare you? Or does it
embolden you? Do you want to withdraw
and hide? Or does it make you lose your
fear? Does it inspire you in doing
things you’ve always dreamed about but never tried? Does it make you want to
rearrange how you spend, not only your leisure hours, but your work hours as well?
In the words of Moses, this
is how we choose life. We let go. We let go our hold on things. We let go our hold on people. We let go our hold
on ourselves. It feels like death, but
it is in fact the entry into life – a deeper life, a more satisfying life, a
life that is even more connected to those around us. Because when we let go,
things no longer have the same hold on us.
When we let go, we open our hands to receive a greater gift, a greater
life.
It is not easy. But we don’t
do it alone. Jesus doesn’t ask us to do
anything he is not willing to do himself, that he has not already done himself.
He opened his hands to the sick and the hungry. He opened his arms to the
outcast and the foreigner. He opened his
heart to you and to me and to the whole world, that we may all know his
undying, eternal love.
So, we walk his path. As we
walk with him, we let go and let go and let go. In this way, our lives are
shaped by the cross. Ultimately, our
lives are not shaped by things. Neither are they shaped finally by other
people. They are not even shaped by
ourselves. They are shaped in the end by the cross – the cross of Jesus.
It is the most life-giving
thing. And it has no expiration date.
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