Sermon for August 3, 2025
Pentecost 8 C
Luke 12:13-21; Ecclesiastes 1 & 2
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
Most people, even crazy baseball fans like me, have never heard of Gil Meche. He was a pitcher who signed a 5-year contract worth $55 million to play for the Kansas City Royals several years ago. He had two good years of pitching, followed by two years plagued by lots of injuries. For the final year of his contract in 2011 he agreed to move from starting pitcher to relief pitcher; it would be easier on his body. Before the season began, though, Gill called the team with surprising news. He said, “You signed me as a starter and I can’t fulfill that obligation. I’m not going to take that money as a relief pitcher.” He walked away from $12 million!
Now by this point in his career, Gil Meche had already made $50 million playing baseball. There are few people who would feel sorry for him. But still, he could have made $12 million more by simply showing up for the final year of his contract. Even the general manager of the Royals, who could use that money to sign more players for his team, tried to talk him out of retiring. When a reporter asked him why he did it, Gil said, “Realizing I wasn’t helping the team much, it just started to build on my conscience.” As he’s reflected on it over the years, he said “[I know] that money would have benefited a lot of people, my kids being number one. But I never ever could tell you that I’ve regretted that decision.”
And over the years he’s learned to ask of himself “when you have nice things, what is really needed and what isn’t needed?” For example, he bought a beach home in Florida. He bought a nice boat. He bought a big house on a golf course. He bought 42 acres of land. And eventually he asked himself: did I buy these things just to make myself feel good? The answer was “yes”—and they did make him feel good, for a time. He enjoyed them for several years, especially when he could use his stuff to host his friends, or help his family, or bring joy to people and show how much he appreciated them. He felt good that he worked hard and had a successful career, and that many people benefited from all he achieved.
He’s thought deeply about all of this and has come to this conclusion about what’s most important in life. He said, what’s most important “is if you can have inner peace within yourself and not look to other things to fulfill happiness. I’m talking from a person, to a boat, to land, or a beach home. Those are things you think might fill a void in your life, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t.” As he’s gotten older, he says, “I want to simplify my life more and more… The more we simplify life, that’s when I think you’re going to find the most happiness.” [https://www.nytimes.com/athletic/6511233/2025/07/25/an-mlb-pitcher-walked-away-from-12-million-he-has-no-regrets/]
The reflections of Gil Meche on wealth and happiness and what makes for a good life sound remarkably like our reading from Ecclesiastes chapters 1 & 2 this morning. Ecclesiastes was written by an unnamed Teacher of wisdom—by tradition it’s attributed to King Solomon. As an old man, he’s reflecting on his life and wondering what it all means. When you read all of chapter 2, you see how wealthy and accomplished he was. He worked hard and built homes and planted vineyards and fruit trees. He made gardens and parks and pools. He possessed great flocks and herds of livestock, and gathered large sums of silver and gold. He surrounded himself with musicians and indulged in the pleasures of the flesh. And he did find pleasure in all the rewards that his hard work afforded him—until he finally realized “you can’t take it with you”. When he dies, all he’s gained and accomplished will be left to others who will use his stuff however they want. And he realizes that all of his struggles to get ahead could not leave him with inner peace. As the Teacher put it, “all is vanity and a chasing after the wind”. That word “vanity” is more accurately translated from the Hebrew as “mist” or “vapor”. “All is mist and a chasing after the wind”. You can’t hold onto it. It exists for a moment then disappears.
So then, what is the purpose for all we struggle for and all we might gain? Is it simply to follow the example of the Teacher of Ecclesiastes in is younger days, and store up as much stuff as possible? Yet even the greatest achievement, in itself, cannot prevent us from worrying about the world or our lives.
After struggling through his despair about how fleeting his stuff and accomplishments are, the Teacher of Ecclesiastes finally settles on this definition of what makes a good life: “there is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink and find enjoyment in their toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment?”. A good life comes when we’re able to focus on the blessings of the simple things in life, the gifts of God given for us to enjoy with others. It’s not about storing up more and more gifts from God’s hand, but it’s seeing the gifts God has already given us, and then using God’s simple gifts to build relationships, and serve one another in love. That’s what makes for a good life.
In today’s gospel, Jesus tells a parable about a rich man. On the surface, this man seems very similar to the Teacher of Ecclesiastes. But he’s got some key differences. The story goes like this: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, ‘what should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years, relax, eat, drink, and by merry.’ But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’”.
What did the rich man in the parable do wrong? His mistake wasn’t how he made his money, or how much he made, or how he saved and planned for the future, or his desire to “relax, eat, drink, and be merry”. His error was what he believed all of that could do for him. In his pursuit of more, he became fixated on himself: my crops, my barns, my grain, my goods, my soul. He became so fixated on how his possessions might secure his future, that he neglected to see how these were God’s gifts given to also enjoy with others in the present moment.
How much should we work or relax? How much should we give away or accumulate? How much to plan for the future? How much to appreciate the present moment? These are age-old questions that we all struggle to find the proper balance for. Elsewhere in the gospels, Jesus himself teaches that we do need to plan ahead and be good stewards of how we manage our money. Yet at the end of the day, our resources are not meant to be hoarded but to be used—not foolishly, but used nonetheless to the glory of God. Jesus also teaches in today’s parable by way of a warning, that we need to be “on guard from all kinds of greed, for your life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”
And we, who live in a country that has more wealth than even King Solomon could imagine—do we hear this warning as good news? Jesus invites us to. It is, in fact, how Jesus lived his life, and how he gave his life on the cross, and how his risen life continues to be at work among us—everything he had he gave for us. Now, Jesus knows we can’t do what only he could do in being Messiah, Savior, and Lord. And he doesn’t want us to. He simply invites us to trust him in faith. Trust that Christ, who willingly and lovingly gave everything he had for our salvation, continues to give us everything we truly need for a good and meaningful life. Amen.