One of my favorite—and least favorite—bumper stickers, which one invariably sees on the bumpers of more expensive cars, reads: “He who dies with the most toys wins.” The one who dies with the most toys wins.It is obviously intended to be ironic, and it’s funny because most of us recognize a little of ourselves in it. And it’s a little disturbing too, because—most of us recognize a little of ourselves in it.
That bumper sticker should make us all a little nervous. Because it points to a truth about us—about most of us—and a truth that we should be none too comfortable looking at. I remember, the first time I saw it, I laughed nervously—shocked, because I had been caught, out on the highway where I wasn’t expecting it and didn’t have my defenses up; caught by the knowledge that I so easily fall into the trap of trying to provide meaning to life by the acquisition of things.
Caught at being just a little bit idolatrous at heart. Caught in the embarrassing knowledge that most of us try, at least a little, to give meaning to life by trusting in idols of money, or power, or prestige, or houses, or cars, or travel, or appearance, or children, or theology, or any number of idols that are not God. We chase after idolatrous toys, trying desperately to win an elusive sense of meaning and purpose. That bumper sticker hits a nerve. So we laugh—at ourselves—but it is a nervous laugh.
But that bumper sticker was, after all, just a passing reminder. Bumper stickers and tee shirts and the like are fun, and sometimes insightful, but it is easy enough to look away. We don’t really take bumper stickers and tee shirts seriously.
But we do take the Bible seriously. And this theme of idolatry, of trying to provide a meaning of our own making, is a major, perhaps the major theme in the Bible. And today, we listen to words that make it hard to look away.
In this morning’s first lesson from Hosea, God laments over his wayward children: “The more I called them, the more they went from me; they kept sacrificing to the Baals, and offering incense to idols. I took them up in my arms…I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. [But] my people are bent on turning away from me.” …and toward the pursuit of idols, of things, of toys.
The question of meaning (of what is important) is dangled before us like an exposed nerve. And Jesus only makes it worse; he makes it even more poignant. When a man asks him to decide how the family inheritance should be divided, he refuses to deal with the specific problem the man presents, but instead zeros in on the man’s real problem—greed, all kinds of greed. (Which is probably his brother's problem too.)
And we listen nervously, with the same self-conscious smile we had when we read the bumper sticker, as Jesus tells the Parable of the Rich Fool. Of the man whose land produced far in excess of what the man needed. And so the man, striving for security and happiness (and don't we all want security and happiness?) built larger barns for himself and stored everything he could.
And when he was confident that he had provided for himself—many times over—many generations over. That he was in control. That he had succeeded in creating meaning of his own making—an idol of wealth—he said, “Now I’m in fat city; Now I’ve got it made. I can relax; I have security and comfort, and I have made my reality and provided my meaning and I am master of my own fate.” Independent. Self-reliant. An Island.
He’s in a position a lot of us spend a lot of our lives trying to get to. “Relax, eat, drink, and be merry.” He’s perhaps even surpassed the wealth (and, some would say, greed) of John D. Rockefeller, who when asked, “How much is enough,” replied, “Just a little bit more.”
And against that attitude, Jesus holds up a reality that is shattering. The reality of death. Our ultimate loss of control. Jesus says, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And all the things you have prepared, all the toys you have collected, all the wealth you’ve accumulated, whose will they be? You built and collected for a lifetime, and now you face eternity with nothing, because your investment was in things, an idol, instead of the true God."
And now the question of meaning doesn't just dangle before us like like an exposed nerve—but like a raw nerve exposed to the wind—the wind of greed, of idolatry, the wind we chase after when we live our lives trying to collect toys before we die.
Jesus’ way of reminding us of what is important in life is direct and to the point. “You who want to have control. You who want to hoard. You who want to create your own meaning with things, and power, and through other people: You are going to die (just like everyone else). And what good will all your toys—all your collected wealth—do you?”
As a priest I have had many occasions to be with people on their death beds. It is a humbling experience. Jesus was right; the nearness of death does provide a clarifying perspective on life.
In talking with dying people, I’ve heard lots of regrets. But I’ve never heard anyone say, “I wish I had spent more time at the office.” No one has ever said, “I should have kept the house cleaner.” No one has ever said, “I see it all clearly now; the real meaning of life is to get and keep as much as possible. I wish I had made more money, had more cars, lived in a bigger house.”
Instead, the talk has always been of relationships. Of loved ones. Of regrets for hurts done and silences prolonged. Of giving, of sharing. Of joy in the Lord. Of fear because of a lifetime spent ignoring the Lord. Of the need for forgiveness, and the need to forgive.
In other words, the talk is always really about the meaning that comes from that old formula: loving God with all you have and are, and loving your neighbor as yourself.
Henry G. Bohn said that money is “a good servant, but a bad master.” Let's let Jesus' words remind us all (and I think we need to be reminded of this over and over) that we should live our lives from the perspective of people who are prepared to die this night.
And let us use that perspective to determine whether money and the other "things" in our lives are our servants or our masters. Let us use the perspective of the dying to know what the "toys" are, and the meaning is, in our lives. To know when we are vainly "chasing after the wind," trying to give life our own meaning. And when we are living real meaning into our lives by loving God with all that we have and all that we are, and loving each other as God loves us.
And then when the time comes for us to die, and it will come for each of us, we won’t be counting toys or things or dollars; we won’t give our hearts up to the despair of realizing we’ve spent our precious life chasing the wind; we won’t be rich in things but foolish before the Lord.
We will be joyful. Joyful because we will look back on a lifetime, not of storing treasures for ourselves, but a lifetime of being rich toward God.
In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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