Rick Olson, August 12, 2007
One fine afternoon in Oregon, I was sitting in my office looking out the window at the ocean—I mean, I was diligently working on that Sunday’s sermon—and I had it all planned out, I’d done the groundwork earlier in the week, and I thought I could bang it out, or at least most of it, before I had to drive three hours one way for a committee-meeting the next day, when there came a knock on the church door, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but Ray, one of the homeless that wandered up and down the coast with the seasons, and I hadn’t seen him for about a year-and-a-half, but the last time we’d talked, the television had begun to tell him what to do—while it was turned off, you understand—and then he’d disappeared until that Thursday . . . though he was obviously somewhere, and probably somewhere that stabilized him back on his meds, because he was a lot more lucid than the time before.
Not that Ray is ever altogether lucid, you understand . . . that Thursday he told me that the Sheriff was going to make him a deputy and that he’d had this marvelous vision, but at least TV’s weren’t talking to him, not yet anyway. And when he’d tell me something weird, something about the amazing amphibious-jet-airplane-bicycle he’d invented—you know, the one that Bill Gates was always trying to steal—I’d just nod and smile, but inside I’m going . . . Riiiight!
And I suspect some of Jesus’ “little flock” of disciples might have had the same reaction when he told them “Do not be afraid.” Did they poke each other in the sides, give each other sidelong glances, did they say—at least in their minds—“Don’t be afraid??? Riiiight! . . .” They might not have thought he was crazy—or demon-possessed, as they would have put it in those days—but it might have been just one more thing he said that they didn’t get, like that whole coming crucifixion thing . . . the evidence didn’t support it, that’s for sure.
Because let me tell you—there was a whole bunch of stuff to be afraid of in the first century, starting with the Roman oppressors . . . and food didn’t just grow on trees, you know . . . all this stuff about sparrows, and lilies of the field, how they neither reap or sew, etc., etc. . . . what does that mean in the face of all the evidence to the contrary? They knew they have to work and scrabble for everything they get, nobody’s gonna just give it to them, and they’re always just one step ahead of the poor-house, just one failed crop or empty net away from the wolf at their doorsteps, and there’s always going to be somebody like that rich fool who builds a bigger barn instead of sharing it with the less fortunate . . . fear not, indeed . . . what about the bandits and the thieves that infested the Judean roads, what about sickness that stalked the land. Jesus’ disciples knew that if you came down with so much as a rash you’d be out of the
But that’s what he said, do not be afraid, for it’s God’s good pleasure – God’s delight! – to give you the kingdom. And it reminded them of all that talk about the least of these—those folks who’re like little children—owning the kingdom of God, and it was so not-true it was almost funny . . . the kingdom obviously didn’t belong to any of them . . . if any of them had walked up to the local Roman guard-house and said “Here, my good man, give me the keys to my home, and while you’re at it wash my car” they know what would’ve happened, and it wouldn’t have been pretty. The kingdom obviously belonged to the ones with the power and money and spears, and maybe their toadies in local government, all the folks they bought off, who knew where their bread was buttered, but certainly not Jesus’ rag-tag bunch of followers.
Yet, that’s what he said, all right, and further, he told ‘em to sell all their possessions and give alms, give to the poor, and then got all metaphorical on ‘em, something about purses that don’t wear out, unfailing treasure in heaven . . . and they remember what Jesus had told them about the rich fool, who was gonna die that very night, and not take any of his hoarded wealth with him, and the punch-line “so it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.” And they could see that this was related to that . . . storing treasure in heaven, where neither thieves or moths can get at it, involves giving alms, it involves being rich toward God. And, Jesus says, where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Your heart follows your money.
Now. Did that sound as cynical to the disciples as it does to us? What do you mean where your treasure is, there your heart will be? Awful pessimistic, isn’t it? After all, everybody knows you can’t buy me love, don’t they? And we operate on that principal in the church . . . in the face of very puny giving – the average amount in main-line churches is only 2% of gross income – in the face of very poor church giving, we try to get their hearts first, thinking their cash will follow. We try bible studies, prayer meetings and good, solid preaching – in short, we try programs – and then sit back and wait for the offerings to start rolling in. But Jesus – who, remember, preached on money far more than anything else – says the exact opposite – where your wallets are, there will be your hearts.
And if you’re honest, you’ll admit that it’s true . . . Jesus is just being practical, here . . . he knows human nature. We all know people who pour their money into stuff, they exchange all their disposable income into things, and then its as if they’ve given their hearts to them as well . . . they love their things, they croon to them, they fall asleep with them on their minds. There was a guy at a presbytery meeting who restores automobiles as a hobby, and he carries around pictures of his darlings, and his face lights up when he speaks of them, and we were all impressed, and someone asked him if he’d drive one of them to our next meeting, so we could see it, and he said “Oh, no . . . they decrease in value if you drive them” . . . and let’s be very clear about what he’d done, he’d literally exchanged part of his life – the time spent restoring it and the time he spent making the money to buy it parts – that he’d never get back, he’d given part of his life for his cars. And since he loved himself, and he’d poured himself into his cars, he loved his cars, he loved what he had exchanged part of himself for. And if he’d exchanged life for his cars, and you drove ‘em around and they lose value, well . . .
And Jesus, astute psychologist that he is, knows this about people, and he knows that if things are the center of our lives, God cannot be . . . and so his command to the disciples – and note that it’s not fatherly advice he’s offering, he commands them to sell their possessions and give alms to the poor, and thereby they will build treasure in heaven, which thieves cannot steal and moths cannot use for midnight snacks. And where our treasure is, there will our hearts be as well.
And I probably don’t have to spell out the obvious implication, but I will anyway . . . if our treasure is in heaven – i.e., if it is with God – then that’s where our hearts will be as well. By serving God, by selling possessions and giving alms, our hearts will be with God. And in the ancient times, the heart was thought to be the seat of the soul, the center of our psyches, so what Jesus is saying is where your treasure is—whether it’s with God or mammon—where your treasure is, there will be your very soul.
Although I’m not an astute psychologist like Jesus, I think it’s a safe bet that Ray the homeless window washer is afflicted with schizophrenia, and as such, he can’t work for a living. He can’t hold down a steady job, buy or restore a car, and it isn’t his fault, it’s not like one day he decided to become psychotic and start taking orders from a turned-off television, schizophrenia is a disease as we all know . . . and he’s one of God’s creations, isn’t he? And the Bible’s full of stories of God’s providential love, about God’s eye being on the sparrow, so I know he watches me . . . isn’t it? And so why are there Rays wandering the highways and hedges? Why doesn’t God take care of them, why doesn’t God—who counts every hair on Ray’s head—provide for him directly? Well, when the guy who owns the burger joint gives him 20 bucks for washing his windows, God does care for him . . . when I would give him a ride out to the park where he was living in a two-man tent, God is taking care of him. God works through us, God cooperates with us in the care and nurture of God’s good creation. And when we do so, when we take care of the schizophrenic window washers of the world, the widows and orphans of our day, we store up treasure in heaven, where thieves cannot go and moths cannot chow down.
But for every Ray that ekes out survival on the open road, and manages to keep himself alive, there are surely those who do not, who end up in ditches, who freeze to death in boxcars . . . and the question is, why? If God’s eye is on the sparrow, why are some not taken care of? Why is there starvation, death by famine and flood and earthquake and fire? Well, the answer is that I don’t know, not for sure, anyway . . . this is a problem that vexes theologians even today. But I suspect that one reason is . . . fear. Not fear on the part of the homeless, or on the starving, but on the part of us Christians, who are supposed to be cooperators in the care of creation. We’re Christ’s body on earth, his motive force, the means by which the kingdom will come, and we’re taught – by everything we see on TV, every news item, every cop show – that people like Ray – the homeless, the mentally ill – are dangerous. In fact, I’ll carry it further, we’re taught by the media to fear the poor, because they want our money and they will take it. Everybody knows that poor minorities commit all the crime in this country – the cop shows and the evening news (it’s getting harder and harder to tell the difference) prove it. We are taught to fear and distrust those who are different—especially those without enough capital to fully support our consumer culture—and who wants to give help to someone they’re afraid of?
But I think most damaging is the fear that we won’t have enough to survive, despite all the evidence to the contrary in our middle-class lives. Of course, there’s are whole industries—the various retirement industries—dedicated to convincing us that we’re all on the edge of economic disaster all the time. There’s a whole community of marketers trying to get us to hoard our surplus grain for ourselves—like the rich fool—instead of giving alms. The fear that we won’t be able to eat, or won’t be able to stay well, is pounded into our heads almost from our first breath.
But you know what Jesus said? He said: “Do not fear . . .” And again, it’s more than just a polite suggestion: he commands us: Do not fear. Fear is the mind-killer, the soul-crusher, the heart-clincher . . . it is the way of the flesh, the way of the world, the way of the evil that paralyzes our mission and freezes our intentions, that keeps us from cooperating with God in the care of God’s good creation. Do not fear, for fear makes us slaves of the worldly powers that be, the Roman oppressors, when in fact, we’ve been already freed by the faithful obedience of Jesus Christ.
Brothers and sisters, we live in a time ruled by fear – fear of aging, fear of dying, fear of a less-than-white smile. Fear of thieves, fear of wrinkles, fear of terrorist attack. Fear is the air – on the evening news, in the papers, and sometimes, in our hearts. But Jesus said do not be afraid, for as children of God, despite everything the world tells us, we have nothing to be afraid of. Despite all evidence to the contrary, despite everything you read and hear, God is in charge, and God is right here with us, until the end of time. Do not be afraid, sisters and brothers, for with great pleasure, with infinite delight, God has given the kingdom to us. Amen.
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