Of true poverty and fake riches

Today’s gospel passage (Luke 12:13-21) might tempt us into thinking that as long as we are not grasping at money, then we are probably doing okay. We stand back and look askance at the man in the parable who planned to build up his wealth, only for God to require his soul of him that very night. But, as we listen to the parable, I also wonder whether there is not a tiny corner of us which is really muttering to itself, “I thank you, Lord, that I am not like that man.”

The problem here is that there are different kinds of wealth and riches that we can be tempted to pursue. In reality, money has little value in itself. Its value arises from social convention and legal recognition. So, in a sense it is quite possible for us to be as grasping as the man who wants to build up his barns if we are in pursuit of those things which by social convention are considered to be valuable. People talk a lot these days about virtue signalling: the performance of some good act not because it is good but because it is perceived by others to be good and to reflect well upon the doer of the act. But what good is it to have a barn full of social recognition if, beneath it all, our love extends so far and no further?

Let us push this further, however. Perhaps there is one more level to this kind of grasping that Jesus identifies in the gospel. Is it not also possible for those of us who are considered devout, or at least regular in our religious observance, to live a kind of grasping in our faith? Thereby, we keep one eye on our religious bank balance, our merit, our worth and our value, as we try to live our faith. In this case, is it not easy to be tempted to do more, rather than to go deeper?

Yet, in God’s eyes, those who do more are principally those who are loving more. The devout philanthropist is a pygmy beside the obscure religious whose joyous heart celebrates the love of God and offers penance for the sins of the world, unless of course the celebrated philanthropist is a saint behind closed doors. It is not the all-powerful chair of the parish council who props up the parish but the unnoticed penitent who prays in the shadows. 

This is not a reason not to do great things or even useful things. It is just a reminder that God's barns can only be built by humble, recklessly open-handed love. Every attempt at grasping - grasping even the things of God -  falls foul of Jesus' censure.