Proper 13 - 2025

Sermon for Proper 13, Year C
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
The Rev. Andrew McLarty

George Carlin, the late comedian, once had a blunt observation about our modern obsession with possessions. He said:  

"That’s the whole meaning of life is. Trying to find a place for your stuff. Your house is a pile of stuff with a cover on it. A place to keep your stuff while you go our and get more stuff. And sometimes you gotta move, to a bigger house. Why? Too much stuff. Then you gotta move all your stuff, and maybe put some of it in storage. Storage! Imagine that—paying money to keep stuff you’re not even using!"  

It’s funny because it’s true. We live in a world that measures success by accumulation: bigger houses, fuller closets, newer gadgets. And yet, the more we acquire, the more we realize how empty it all feels.  

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells a parable about a rich man whose land produces an overwhelming harvest. The man wasn’t condemned for being rich, scripture is full of faithful people blessed with wealth, like Joseph, who wisely stored grain for famine. No, the problem wasn’t this man's abundance, it was his view of it.  

Listen to his words: "What should I do, with my crops? I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and I will store my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, 'Soul, you have enough.'"  

Did you catch the pronouns? I, I, I. My barns, my grain, my goods, my soul. This man’s entire focus was inward. He saw his abundance as solely his own doing, his own security, his own reward. There’s no gratitude, no thought of sharing, no recognition that all good gifts come from God.  

Jesus isn’t condemning saving or celebrating, after all, God commanded Joseph to store grain for famine, and Scripture is full of feasts in due season. The issue is why we accumulate and how we use what we’ve been given.  

This is the great deception of wealth: the illusion of self-sufficiency. None of us truly does it all by ourselves. Our food comes from farmers, our goods from laborers, our security from community. Even the rich fool’s harvest depended on sun and rain he did not control. Yet he spoke as if he alone had built his fortune.  

God’s response is stark: "You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?"  

Wealth stored only for oneself is incompatible with love of God. The Law commanded farmers to leave gleanings for the poor. The prophets thundered against those who hoarded while others starved. The early church held all things in common. The message is consistent: What we have is not just for us.  

Paul’s letter to the Colossians reframes our thinking: “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” We are not defined by our wealth but by God’s love. 

George Carlin, again, said:  

"Trying to be happy by accumulating possessions is like trying to satisfy hunger by taping sandwiches all over your body."  

And Paul might agree: "clothe yourselves with the new self, which is … knowledge that Christ is all in all."

We cling to possessions that can never truly nourish us, thinking more will finally be enough. Yet Christ invites us into a different economy—one where bread is broken and shared, where forgiveness loosens the grip of greed, where our security rests not in barns but in belonging to God.  

So what do we do with our wealth, whether great or small? We steward it with gratitude, recognizing it as a gift. We celebrate in season, but never at the expense of others. We save wisely, but never as a substitute for trust in God. We give generously, because love demands it.  

The rich fool’s tragedy wasn’t his success but his solitude. He died alone in a house full of stuff. But we are called to live and die in communion, rich toward God, to one another, and especially to those on the margins.  That is where the joy of discipleship is harvest.

May we seek what is above, where our true life is found, and avoid taping sandwiches to our bodies!

Amen.