"Bigger Barns and Weak Links" – Luke 12:13-21

Luke 12:13-21
(Contemporary English Version)

A man in a crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, tell my brother to give me my share of what our father left us when he died.”

Jesus answered, “Who gave me the right to settle arguments between you and your brother?” Then he said to the crowd, “Don’t be greedy! Owning a lot of things won’t make your life safe.”

So Jesus told them this story:
A rich man’s farm produced a big crop, and he said to himself, "What can I do? I don’t have a place large enough to store everything.” Later, he said, “Now I know what I’ll do. I’ll tear down my barns and build bigger ones, where I can store all my grain and other goods. Then I’ll say to myself, ‘You have stored up enough good things to last for years to come. Live it up! Eat, drink, and enjoy yourself.’”

But God said to him, “You fool! Tonight you will die. Then who will get what you have stored up?”

“This is what happens to people who store up everything for themselves, but are poor in the sight of God.”

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Grace, peace, and mercy to you from God our Father, from our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ, and the Holy Spirit who unites us in faith. Amen.

One of my favorite authors is Malcolm Gladwell. 

He is a journalist who takes complex and often-hidden realities about social structures and human thought and distills them into fascinating stories and revelations. His latest project is a podcast series called “Revisionist History” that can be downloaded for free through iTunes or his website. 

I would have loved to play his episode from July 20 called “My Little Hundred Million” in its entirety for you this morning because it is particularly insightful with regards to today’s gospel story; but I’ll do my best to give you the abridged version.

Gladwell tells the story of Hank Rowan, who, in the early ‘90s, gave $100 million to Glassboro State University – a tiny, almost bankrupt school in New Jersey to which he had no significant connection. This monumental gift ushered in a period of unprecedented large-scale giving to colleges and universities. What makes this story unique, however, is that almost all of the largest gifts to higher education since that time have gone to the richest colleges and universities such as Harvard and Stanford. Gladwell spends the episode examining why no other donors took Rowan’s example and also explores the ramifications of the richest American colleges and universities getting even richer.

What it boils down to, for Gladwell, is a contrast of two ideological systems: weak link systems (think soccer) and strong link systems (think basketball). 

In soccer, the worst player on the team can do more damage to the team than a superstar could make up for. The team is very dependent on one another. Therefore, in soccer, upgrading the weakest players on your team instead of finding even-better superstars will result in more goals for the team.

Contrast that with basketball, which is superstar-driven. In basketball, paying for the superstar is worthwhile because one person can dominate on behalf of the team. The right superstar can overcome a handful of weaker teammates. 

Here’s a brief clip to explain a bit more…

Gladwell goes on to provide more examples of how strong link theory dominates our world – particularly in regards to education – but how in reality the weak link argument is often the approach that would make the most difference. 

When the ultra-rich donate to ultra-rich schools like Stanford, Princeton, or Harvard (schools whose endowments virtually guarantee their perpetual existence even if they would not charge any tuition ever again), that money accomplishes far less than it would have if it were given to a poorer school that would open up opportunities for more students. As a nation, we would all benefit more from the lifting-up of the bottom than we would from a handful of elite students getting an even better education at an elite school.

I’m obviously glossing over a lot of other information and I do encourage you to listen to this podcast episode in its entirety sometime soon. But for our purposes here this morning I hope this information provides a set of lenses through which you can look at today’s gospel story.

In this story as told by Luke, Jesus is asked to settle a financial dispute between brothers fighting over their inheritance from their deceased father.

Instead of stepping in to the middle of the argument or choosing a side, Jesus tells a story about a rich farmer (and trust me, as someone who was raised in rural Ohio, I know how much of an oxymoron the title “rich farmer” is).

The rich farmer had another bumper crop and asks himself this question, “How can I make room for all of my stuff?” The farmer decided to tear down his barn and make a bigger one – an investment in the future which absolves him from any hard work or responsibility from that day forward. Instead, he’s going to “Live it up!”

Then God comes in with the bad news: “You fool! Tonight you will die. Then who will get all your stuff?" God doesn’t provide an answer to that question, but it’s safe to assume in this scenario that the people who will get the rich farmer’s stuff are the people whom he should have been generously sharing with all along.

The rich farmer building the bigger and bigger barns is a strong link thinker. In fact, the rich farmer represents the end game of strong-link theory. His primary goal is the accumulation of more and more. The stuff he accumulates has only one purpose – to keep him fed and usher in age of freedom from responsibility from work or responsibility to care for others. That is how you win the game if you are playing for only yourself.

But according to Jesus, this is not how his followers play the game because no one wins at the game of life. Death will come to us all. No amount of hoarding and accumulating will truly allow us to live forever. As long as we have the faculties to do so, we will never be free from the responsibility to work or the responsibility to care for others

Bigger barns have one purpose – to consolidate resources and power. And there are any number of ways we try to justify this power grab. We claim, “I earned it” or “I’m the only one who can be trusted with all this” or “God has blessed me with this.”

Jesus tells a story in which a successful man was driven by greed, a desire for power, and a life of ease apart from anyone else. This man will die and everything he withheld from others will end up going to them anyways. “This is what happens to people who store up everything for themselves, but are poor in the sight of God.”

After reading this story from Luke, it is clear to me that the benefits to weak-link theory are not solely financial or social, but are also moral and spiritual. The accumulation and consolidation of wealth at the expense of others is a character trait of a fool and it leads to isolation from God and one’s neighbors. God’s blessings are intended to be shared so that the weak among us can be made strong.

This is a story told to remind us of a greater story… 

– a story that show us we are better when all people have equal rights, opportunities, and access;
– a story demonstrating the power of generosity;
– a story demonstrating the evil of greed;
– a story reminding us that in order for our generosity to do the most good, it has to be cast wide into as many lives as possible;
– a story reminding us that our value to directly tied to those who are the poorest and most in need in our society.

There is a good chance that none of us will ever be in a position to give 100 million dollars to a university; but each day we are all presented with numerous ways to be generous in sacrificial ways that will strengthen the weak links in our society. May our eyes, hearts, and hands be opened to these opportunities, in the name of Jesus Christ who alone liberates us from sin and the power of death.

Amen.

"The Lord's Prayers" – Luke 11:1-13

Luke 11:1-13

He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples." He said to them, "When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial."

And he said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, "Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.' And he answers from within, "Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.' I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs. "So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"

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Don’t tell the Bishop, but I found myself wondering this week, if the Lord’s Prayer is everything it’s cracked up to be. I’m not about to remove it from our liturgy, or stop teaching it to our Faith Formation kids, or pretend there’s not abundant power in the way it binds us together as God’s people on the planet. Certainly, through Christian history and tradition, what we call “The Lord’s Prayer” or the “Our Father” has become a beautiful, unifying, comforting, familiar part of our faith’s expression that is invaluable in more ways than I could count, if I tried.

But what if it was never meant to be all of that?

I mean, look at these phrases and petitions and the context in which they are offered up by Jesus to his curious disciples: Jesus was in a certain place praying and when he was finished, one of his disciples came to him and said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray as John taught his disciples.”  Jesus said to him, “When you pray, say, ‘Father, hallowed be your name.  Your kingdom come.  Give us each day our daily bread.  Forgive us our sins as we, ourselves, forgive everyone indebted to us.  And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

If you take Jesus off of his pedestal and put him in the plain clothes and dirty, dusty sandals of First Century Galilee, as the man, milling around the countryside, preaching and teaching and whatnot… If you see him, just back from “a certain place,” praying as he was wont to do… If you see him as a teacher and as a leader, being asked by one of his followers for some advice about how to pray…

Maybe you can imagine, like I do, that Jesus, that guy from Nazareth, never meant for these little nuggets of advice; these little petitions of prayer; these short, sweet little mantras – pregnant with meaning, mind you – to be turned into one single prayer, to be prayed – as one; to be lifted up as the prayer of all prayers, until the end of time.

“Lord, teach us to pray, like we’ve heard John taught his disciples.” It’s a simple enough request, right? Let us know what you’re up to when you go off by yourself. What do you do? What do you say? Why should we bother? 

And so, maybe Jesus stopped for a moment and gave it some thought… maybe he considered the prayers and petitions he’d just offered, himself, a moment before… or maybe not. Maybe Jesus just rattled off the first things that came to mind, as a way to get his friend’s own wheels spinning about how he might have a conversation with God.

Jesus says, “When you pray, say, ‘Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.’ Say, ‘Give us each day our daily bread.’ Say, ‘Forgive us our sins as we, ourselves, forgive everyone indebted to us.’ Say, ‘And do not bring us to the time of trial.’”

And of course, the advice still stands, whether we string Jesus’ petitions together as The Lord’s Prayer, or not. 

In other words, to start, “recognize that there’s a God bigger than you – ‘Father, hallowed by your name’.” Acknowledge that there is a source of love and grace and life in the universe you’d like to tap into; and be part of; and live in response to. And let ‘Your kingdom come’ among us, God. Give us a taste, here and now, of what your kind of love and mercy and grace can feel like in the world, as we know it. Don’t make us wait another day, another minute for the kind of goodness and mercy we long for so desperately.”

And he goes on. “Give us each day our daily bread.” Appropriately humbled, as much as you’re able, then, and full of hope, don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. ‘Give us each day our daily bread.’ Not more than we need… Not more than we deserve… Not more than we can use… Not more than our fair share… But, daily bread… nothing more, nothing less. 

“And ask for some forgiveness, while you’re at it. Admit that you need it. Acknowledge what your creator already knows about your faults and your shortcomings and your sins. And then ask for the same kind of forgiveness on behalf of your enemies, too. If you can pray for God to forgive them, it might help you move in the direction of forgiveness, yourself. And God wants that – for you and for the world.”

And finally, when you don’t live up to your expectations, Jesus suggests praying, ‘Save us from the time of trial’.” “When you forget your place, when you lose your perspective, when you take advantage of God’s abundance in your life, when you can’t forgive, when you can’t love your neighbor – ask God to spare you the consequences. Please God, ‘Save us from the time of trial,’ because not one of us could bear the judgement we deserve, if we’re honest. Be gracious and merciful and kind; give us second-chances and grant us some measure of hope for tomorrow; and let us try again when we fail.” 

Now, taking the Lord’s Prayer out of the context of worship like this, and imagining it as nothing more and nothing less than a conversation – if not a teaching moment – between Jesus and one of us followers, may seem a little simplistic…maybe a bit irreverent, even. But whenever it shows up in Scripture like this, instead of in the Sunday morning bulletin, it reminds me to dust it off, to see it at face value, and to try to make sense of it in new ways.

See, I’ve thought for some time now that Jesus teaching his disciples how to pray is like me teaching my boys how to order dinner at a restaurant. I say things like, “Speak up.  Talk clearly.  Look the server in the eye.  Tell them what you want.  Say it like you mean it.”

I think Jesus is doing the same with all of these petitions and with all of that talk about asking and knocking and searching; and with that stuff about fish and snakes and eggs and stones, too. He’s encouraging us to engage a conversation with God.  He’s suggesting we not be shy. He’s inviting us to be bold and brave and faithful and to use our words. He’s encouraging us to get into a relationship with our creator, the way he, himself, was in a relationship with God the Father.

Now, God is not a server at a fine restaurant, so we may not always get just what we want or all we think we deserve.  But I don’t know any relationship worth anything that’s that easy.

Still, we ask.  We search.  We knock. We are not afraid, or bashful. We don’t worry about being right, even. We just say it like we mean it and let God do the rest – the giving, the withholding, the loving, the blessing, the forgiving, and whatever else we trust God sees that we need. 

Because prayer – and our relationship with God as children of God – is about trusting God to deliver… and to take good care… and to love in ways only God can manage, with all the grace and generosity that comes to life in Jesus Christ.

Amen