Dealing With Stuff

July 31, 2022 + Lectionary 18c + Luke 12:13-21 + Pr. Craig Mueller

There’s a lot of stuff in today’s readings.

 

Maybe we should begin with a question. What kind of stuff are you dealing with these days? What’s on your mind?

 

For many Americans, it is inflation. The price of stuff is rising. Or as I learned recently, there is also shrinkflation. A 64-ounce carton of ice cream is now 48 ounces. It looks the same. And costs the same. But there’s less stuff in the carton.

 

The speaker in our first reading from Ecclesiastes is dealing with some pretty heavy stuff. You may know this book of the Bible from the well-known passage: “to everything there is a season; a time for this and a time for that.” Yet Ecclesiastes is considered the most pessimistic book in the Bible.

 

The so-called Teacher is dealing with existential stuff. What’s it all for? Is life worth it? It’s all vanity, he says. All the business of life. You toil, you work your butt off. You have plenty, but you always want more. And then you leave it for someone else to enjoy. And what do we gain from all our toil? This doosie of a verse: For humans, “all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their minds do not rest. This also is vanity.”

 

Well. Either now you need a frosted cinnamon roll or something very sweet to cleanse your palette. Or you admit that sometimes life feels that way. Vanity. Chasing the wind. Futile. You’ve been there. At least once or twice. It’s heavy stuff, isn’t it?

 

Let’s bring in Jesus now. Someone in the crowd blurts out that they want Jesus to help arbitrate a family squabble over inheritance. Get a will, you’re thinking. But this stuff is real, even today, right?

 

But here is Jesus’ comeback: be on guard against all kinds of greed. For life does not consist in the abundance of stuff.

 

The abundance of stuff? It’s the American way. Someone turned me on to an old clip by stand-up comedian George Carlin. I think it’s a modern-day parable.

 

Carlin begins by saying they gave him the wrong dressing room. So he was trying to find a place to put his stuff. He goes on: “I don’t know about you. But I need a place to put my stuff. That’s the whole meaning of life: trying to find a place for your stuff. That’s all your house is. It’s a pile of stuff with a cover on it.

 

And when you leave your house, your stuff, you’ve gotta lock it up. You wouldn’t want somebody to come by and take your stuff. They always take the good stuff. They don’t bother with the crap you’re saving. Ain’t nobody interested in your fourth-grade arithmetic paper. That’s all your house is: a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff.

 

Sometimes you gotta move and get a new place. Why? Too much stuff. You gotta move all your stuff. And maybe put some of your stuff in storage. Imagine that, there’s a whole industry based on keepin’ an eye on your stuff. . .

 

Now sometimes you go on vacation and you gotta bring some of your stuff with you. You can’t bring all your stuff. Just the stuff you really like. The stuff that fits you well that month. Let’s say you’re gonna go to Honolulu. You take two big bags of stuff. Plus your carry-on bags. And the stuff in your pockets. You get all the way to Honolulu. The first thing you do is put away all your stuff. I’ll put some stuff down up here. I’ll put some stuff up down there. You put your stuff over there. I’ll put my stuff here. Hey, we’ve got more places than we’ve got stuff. We’re gonna have to buy more stuff!”1

 

The rich man in Jesus’ parable has a lot of stuff to deal with: both literally and figuratively. At first glance, he seems like the model of success. He has a thriving family farm business. Maybe it’s a booming economy and a booming harvest! And there isn’t enough space to store his stuff—his grain and goods. Don’t miss this: he’s saving for the future, for his retirement. All good, right?

 

Yet Jesus isn’t impressed. What’s the problem? And since when is Jesus a financial advisor? Or a decluttering guru?

 

Maybe that’s part of the problem. We don’t bring a spiritual lens to our finances, to our stuff, to our wills, to our thinking about the future. As they say, you can’t take it with you. And the rich man was going to meet his maker a lot earlier than he thought. He was rich in stuff. Rich in assets. Rich in retirement security. But not rich in what matters to God. Or rich in what really matters in life, we might add.

 

Here are three little pieces of spiritual wisdom—spiritual stuff—in the parable for us:

 

First, watch your pronouns. The rich man’s retirement plan is a self-centered recital. He seems to have no spiritual advisor, no financial advisor, no one else is even referenced. Just: I, me, myself. In the reign of God, though, it’s about community, family, relationships. The common good.

 

Second, find a healthy relationship to your stuff. We need stuff to live. Some of it connects us to important people and memories. But most of us could use less of it. Most of us could downsize. Most of us could share some of our stuff and some of our wealth with people who don’t have enough of it.

 

Which leads to the third, generosity. Maybe it’s not bigger barns for our stuff. But what we do with what all we have been given? How will we find joy in giving? In sharing rather than hoarding? In being as concerned for the earth and those most vulnerable as we are with our 401k’s? How will we support the ministry and mission of this faith community? And how will we make sure that our retirement planning, our estate planning, and our wills reflect our commitments to the things of ultimate value? [And if you don’t have a will, get on it!]

 

Your life could end at any moment. Pretty heavy stuff. Maybe at times it all seems pointless. But as we heard in Colossians, in baptism you have already died with Christ. Your life is hidden with Christ in God. You are free to seek the things that are above. In other words, the spiritual stuff that gives meaning to your life.

 

What is your treasure?

 

This beautiful earth. This wonderful city. The people dear to you. Your neighbors—both people and creatures. The water of baptism. The meal of bread and wine. This community. Riches, indeed.

 

The stuff that matters.

 

 

1https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvgN5gCuLac

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