11th Sunday after Pentecost -
Year C
Luke 12:13-21 &
Ecclesiastes 1:2, 2:18-26
Attending to the
Soul
I sent a note to our listserve of students
this week. There were things I thought I
might put in the note, but stopped after completing the opening line. That first sentence read, “I miss you.”
I do miss them. The summers are great. But when we suspend the Wednesday night
student meals, something about who I am gets lost. I am a campus pastor. And while that identity includes work beyond
chaplaincy with the students, it is difficult to be a campus pastor when there
aren’t students around.
I share
these thoughts on my identity as a way of starting a conversation this morning
about identity. Not just my identity, but the identity of each of us. Identity is important. The way in which we define ourselves – or find
ourselves being defined – gives us direction and purpose in life. Finding our identity is more than an exercise
in navel gazing - it is a practical necessity.
Today’s
lessons talk about identity. The Gospel
story raises questions about Jesus’ identity.
Who was he and what did he came to do.
Gaining a hold on his identity gives us direction as we try to establish
our own. From Ecclesiastes we hear words
which would help us find our identity in that which is lasting and sure.
What isn’t
very lasting or sure are our possessions.
The Gospel lesson in particular reminds us that our identity should not
be found in the things that we own.
Possessions are at the root of the
request made to Jesus as he is walking along.
Someone in the crowd stops Jesus and says to him, “Teacher, tell
my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” While
we might think it odd that such a request be made, let’s make sure we see it as
odd for the right reasons.
The right reason is not because
this is an unreasonable request to make – even of Jesus. In ancient Israel, at the time of Jesus, it
was the teachers of the Law who decided matters such as inheritance. When you had a dispute against your brother,
or any other member of the community, you would go to a teacher and ask them to
settle the matter for you.
This man
may have been justified in seeking the assistance of a well known and respected
teacher. His brother might not have done
that which is right in the eyes of the law.
In ancient Israel, at the time of Jesus, the first born son in a family
was entitled to all of the father’s inheritance. The father could instruct the eldest son to
divide the inheritance among the other sons.
Legally, the elder son had the right to ignore his father’s wishes. However, to do so, he would be ignoring the
commandment to Honor Father and Mother.
Only a teacher of Hebraic Law could weigh the testimony and say what is
expected. The man who comes to Jesus
might have been seeking justice in such a situation. The man may have had a legitimate grip
against his brother. And coming to a
“Teacher” is what one was instructed to do.
And yet,
Jesus rebukes the man. He says to him, “Who
set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” Jesus ignores the man’s request. He refuses to give the man what he
wanted. But why? Jesus’ response suggests it may have to do
with Jesus’ identity. He is not here as
a judge or arbitrator of the ancient laws; he is here to fulfill another
purpose.
That
purpose, comes into focus in the parable which Jesus tells.
In the
parable, the thing we might miss is the significance of the language the man uses
as he speaks to himself. Seeing all the
possesses which he has accumulated, he says, “I will say to my soul, ‘Soul,
you have ample goods laid up for many years…..relax, eat, drink and be merry.’” In speaking to himself he speaks to his
“soul.” That is the English translation
of the Greek word. The Greek word
literally means the “whole of who I am.”
To speak to one’s “soul” is to speak to that which is even greater than
one’s self.
The “whole of who I am” is more
than my possessions. The “whole of who I
am” also includes that part of us which came to us as a gift from God. The man speaks to “the whole of who I am”
failing to remember that part of who he is is the breath that God breathed into
his nostrils of clay. He fails to
remember that with each breath, God reenters our bodies and thus makes “the
whole of who I am” possible.
The man has confused who he is with
what he has. He thinks that what he has
identifies him. He forgets that it is
God who gives us our life and the very breath we breathe.
And so,
seeing this person’s inability to understand his true identity, God comes to
reclaim what God has given. God leaves
the man with the things which he has accumulated. But, of course, the man is now without the
thing which he most needs to order to be the whole of who he strives to be.
Jesus tells
this parable in order to help the crowd understand that we find our identity
not in the things we own but in the one who is our Lord. The man who comes to Jesus is like the man in
the parable – they miss an opportunity to obtain an identity which cannot be
taken from them.
Jesus is
not some judge, sent to serve as arbitrator or interpreter of the law. He is the one who identifies us as brothers
and sisters, children of the Heavenly Father.
God gives us our identity, not the things we own.
Nor can we
find our identity in the things which we think.
The small section of Ecclesiastes
read for us this morning deals with possessions. But if we look at the entire book, we see a
much broader presentation of mislaid identities.
Ecclesiastes was probably written
sometime around the 3rd century B.C.E.
At that time, there was within Hellenistic culture the notion that
underlying all of life were undeniable, universal truths. Sometimes, individual religions were seen as
little more than alternate methods for approaching this universal truth. You followed the teachings of a particular
prophet or guru and hopefully moved beyond their words and into the realm of
universal truth.
This school of thought had a
profound influence on the religion of the Israelites. Yahweh, being the one true God, certainly led
the way in the search for this universal wisdom. The book of Proverbs is an example of such
thought. In those writings, you begin to
see "wisdom" as a personified agent of God. Scriptural law and the writings of the
prophets came to be seen more as the revelation of wisdom than as a record of
God's historical activity.
The writer of Ecclesiastes felt
that those who adopted such thinking had mislaid their identity. They were seeking to find themselves in the
pursuit of universal truth, in the pursuit of wisdom. Many had shunned all possessions, so as to be
free to truly pursue wisdom. The trouble
is that no less than the rich man in Jesus' parable, they too had defined
themselves in terms inconsistent with who they really were.
The author of Ecclesiastes reminds
us that we don't find who we are in the pursuit of things, nor do we discover
our identity in the pursuit of wisdom.
An interesting concept is lost in
the translation of these passages into English.
The word, vanity, used so many times in this book, denotes a
breath. Vanity is exhaled air
that disappears. When we speak, no
matter how eloquent, no matter how insightful, no matter how wise, all we are
doing is exhaling. Our thoughts, like
our breath, dissipate and disappear.
Vanity of vanities, says the
Teacher ... All is vanity.
Ecclesiastes, thus, represents a
protest against the ever-present temptation of faith to shore up its own
uncertainty with dogmatism and against the constant tendency of human understanding
to overrate its potentiality. We don't
find our identity in our great thoughts or in our eloquent words.
So, if our possessions don't define
us and neither does our wisdom (which you can further divide into knowledge, or
insight, or understanding.) What's
left? How do we define who we are? What makes us, us?
Put most simply, what makes me me
is the identity I have received as a gift from God. Put most simply, what makes you you is the
image of God which you bear and the breath of God which fills your lungs.
Searching for an identity elsewhere
is – well, vanity.
Amen.
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