Luke 12:13-21 · The Parable of the Rich Fool
My Precious, My Precious
Luke 12:13-21
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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Who would have thought that a public television show about the junk, or, excuse me, family heirlooms cluttering up everyone's closets, attics, and basements would turn into one of the hottest TV shows going?

What's the name of it? Anyone?

It's my favorite TV show.

That's right: Antiques Roadshow. Antiques Roadshow is now a classic treasure itself, having been public televisions' biggest audience grabber for over a decade. It's even spawned dozens of spin-offs and copycats, and made the Keno twins (Leigh and Leslie), as well as many other appraisers, household names.

The Roadshow's surprisingly wide appeal comes from the primal dream that we all house some unknown treasure, some secret fortune, in the nooks and crannies of our lives. And like the lucky lotto ticket-holder, a 68-year-old cleaning woman from Massachusetts who recently won almost 300 million dollars, every now and again there drops a benevolent bombshell to reaffirm our belief in attic fortunes and lottery treasures.

The Antiques Roadshow was originally a BBC program. In 1986, a couple from Barnstaple, Devon, dropped by the show while taking their dog for a walk. They took with them an old picture from the loft which neither of them liked, and were dumbfounded when told it was a long-lost work by the Victorian artist Richard Dadd. They sold it to the British Museum for 100,000 pounds. An even better story of treasures in the attic is the recent discovery of a completely unknown early work by Rubens, The Massacre of the Innocents. The painting had hung in a private house in the Netherlands, and its owner assumed it to be the work of Jan van den Hoecke, a minor artist of the Rubens school. Just to be absolutely sure, he took a photograph of it to Sotheby's in Amsterdam. When it was auctioned in London in July 2002, it made 49.5 million pounds, making it the most expensive painting sold.

Is this your idea of treasure: undiscovered master-works in your attic, buried doubloons in your basement? And what would you do with all the money you'd receive from selling such treasures? Data is now available from several decades of big lotto winners to make a prediction: you're most likely to buy several new cars, a new house, another new house, large quantities of expensive jewelry, and then divide the rest into smaller fortunes for family members.

When it comes to the surprise discovery of unexpected treasure, we're happy to model our behavior after the example set by our self-service economy.

We serve ourselves first, last, and always.

I went into a restaurant not too long ago and sat down. Someone came up to me, smiled, and said: "Serve yourself."

Those words stuck with me and stick in my craw: Serve yourself. We're told we live in a service economy. It used to be that when we spoke about the growing number of jobs in the service sector, or about the shift from a manufacturing to a service economy, the term service meant something outward directed serving others, providing a service, centralizing services.

But consumer oriented, consumer-directed, consumer-driven services have transformed a service-economy into a serve-yourself consuming economy, indeed, an all-consuming economy. The more greedy, needy, grasping, and insatiable our consumption has become, the less effort there seems to be to serve anyone or anything except ourselves.

Consider the World Wide Web. The huge web of information woven across the internet is there so we can serve ourselves. But instead of health lines, hope lines, or help lines we have an explosion in pornography sites, online scams, electronic theft, and worthless spam.

More examples

In today's gospel text Jesus uses a simple, surprisingly direct parable to demonstrate the foolishness and folly of a self-serving nature. The already rich man suddenly has even more prosperity thrust his way when his lands yield a bonanza a surprise bumper crop. Faced with this largesse, the rich man must seriously and intentionally consider how he'll handle this surplus.

At first his internal discussion seems to bring him to a logical, even sensible conclusion. It's what we've been doing in North America for the past 20 years. Build new, bigger storage facilities to store and safeguard our precious grains and goods. You couldn't have lost money in the stock market for the last 20 years if you invested in either storage or security.

But a further peek into this thrifty savings-plan reveals the true plans the rich man has for all his stores.

He doesn't consider sharing the wealth.

He doesn't care about others who are suffering.

He doesn't show any regard for the hurting and needy.

He doesn't voice any concern for keeping the community of which he's a part safe from unexpected droughts, famines, or plagues.

Instead, the rich man's intentions for his good fortune are entirely directed toward his own self. He intends only to relax, eat, drink, be merry and assumes that because of his great surpluses he'll be able to keep up this self-serving behavior for many years (verse 19).

But the rich man is exposed for who and whose he is by none other than God, who informs the hopeful hedonist that all his selfish plans, all his gloating over possessions are fruitless. For "this very night your life is being demanded of you" (verse 20). All the rich man's treasures will be someone else's tomorrow.

Are you living a self-service, serve-yourself-first lifestyle? Is our church serving itself before serving others? Is this the end goal of all our gains, of all our work? Finally to be able to do absolutely nothing except what pleases you?

Our hyper-individualized self-service culture, a culture concerned with the needs and wants of the self over all else, usually finds other cultural mind-sets either quaint or downright anachronistic. But putting the community before the individual has been a necessary survival method for most other cultures. The Amish, who still adhere to a strict set of community rules and roles appear ridiculously rigid and out of step with notions of improvement or advancement. But the Amish have eyes fixed firmly on what's best for the community, for the continuation of the Amish way of life and faith. And the Amish refuse to let what might give advantage and wealth to a few over-ride the needs of the whole community.

And within this serve-the-community-not-the-self mandate the Amish have been able not just to survive but to develop and grow in their own unique way that's now becoming more and more relevant to the 21st century. For example, recently in Indiana, over 12,000 people came for two days to study the most cutting-edge technologies in farming. Farmers from third world countries such as Kenya and Uganda came as well to learn the latest technologies.

What drew them to rural Goshen, Indiana? The Amish sponsored the Horse Progress Days at Floyd Bontrager's farm (about 25 miles east of South Bend) to demonstrate the latest devices in horse farming, including a revolutionary tandem hitch system for horses, as well as a plow that pulls easier.

One researcher from Ohio State University has discovered that "net income on an Amish farm can be as much as 10 times higher an acre than on a modern, high-tech farm because of increasing costs of fuel and equipment." ("Event Shows Amish Latest in Traditional Technology," Star-Press (Muncie, Indiana), July, 2004. With thanks to Jim Beckley for this reference.

There are two kinds of churches in this world: there are pristine churches and there are patina-ed churches.

A pristine church stays clean, perfect, untouched. It's proud of how it looks and presents itself. It's beautiful.

A patina-ed church gets dirty quick. No matter how many times you clean it up, it takes on a deeper, richer glow because of all the use it gets. It's even more beautiful than a pristine church. And more valuable. Just ask any appraiser on Antiques Roadshow how much more an authentic patina adds to the value of an antique.

(Insert A here: insert email exchange from below if you have time. Or build an entire sermon around this distinction between a pristine and patina-ed church.)

What are some signs of your not being a self-service church? What are some evidences that you're a patina-ed church?

1) What kind of trash are you collecting in your church yard and in your ministry? Is it only church trash (bulletins, tracts, etc.)? Or is it world trash like cigarette butts, beer bottles, fast-food containers, etc?

Does your church lawn and yard exist for itself? Or does it exist for serving others?

2) Are there coffee stains on the carpet? At a church conference in Winnipeg, Canada, the pastor was trying to get us back into the sanctuary after mid-morning break. He yelled to all of us waiting to finish our coffee before coming into the sanctuary, "Come on in and bring your coffee with you. You can add your stain to everybody else's."

Here was a carpet that was in ministry. It wasn't a carpet that existed for itself, and for the church to serve it and keep it clean. It was a carpet that was dedicated to the ministry of the church . . . and was developing a patina of service that made that carpet all the more valuable.

3) Add your own examples here of artifacts that evidence a service church rather than a self-service or Serve Yourself church.

Perhaps the most timely example of the rich fool in Jesus' story comes from the world of cinema and Lord of the Rings.

At the edge of the Cracks of Doom, the crazy, ring-possessed Gollum finally manages to wrestle the Ring of Power off of Frodo's hand, finger, and all. Dancing about, delirious with the fact that he finally is again in "possession" of the ring, Gollum fails to notice he has danced right off the edge of the precipice and is falling into the molten lava center of the mountain, even while he chortles over his treasure repeating, "My Precious, My Precious."

What are you claiming as "My Precious?" Are you living a self-service life, clutching to your bosom more and more things for which you have to rent bigger and bigger storage bins? Are you tumbling into eternity clutching your baubles and rings, "My Precious, My Precious"?

Or is your precious a love for Christ, a love for this world, and a love for ministry and mission in his name and for his sake? Are we building here a pristine self-service, serve-yourself church? Or are we building here a patina-ed service church that has a greenish halo-glow about it from so much handling and hallowing of the truly precious things of life?

(You might conclude by singing Martin Luther King's favorite song, "Precious Lord, Take My Hand, Lead Me On, Let Me Stand.")

ChristianGlobe Networks, Collected Sermons, by Leonard Sweet