To listen to this homily, click here.
This weekend we see one of the strange features of our lectionary: In the heart of the summer, when many people are relaxing and enjoying the beauty of beaches and mountains, we have some of the Bible’s most depressing readings. Qoheleth gives the famous words: “Vanity of vanity! All things are vanity!” Then he goes on to describe the toil, anxiety, sorrow and grief which fills man’s days. And on top of this, even though he is plagued by fatigue, he no longer experiences the sweetness of falling gently into sleep.
Jesus is equally stark. A man comes to him all worked up because his brother has cheated him out of the inheritance. Rather than settle this seeming injustice, Jesus tells a story about a person who stored up wealth, hoping it would bring him peace of mind. Just at the moment when everything fell into place, God demands his life and all his planning and sacrificing amounts to nothing!
These are hardly the thoughts anyone wishes to meditate on as part of summer vacation. In fact, most of us avoid thinking about these heavy topics all year long, for years at a time until we are forced to do so by these readings or the loss of a loved one. But while these themes of death and judgement are uncomfortable, it is actually a blessing to ponder them now before death actually happens, which it inevitably will for each of us, sooner or later.
The central message of today’s Scriptures is to examine our priorities and passions, the things that receive the most and best of us. Are they things that matter to God, heavenly things as St. Paul describes them? Will our current goals and priorities be significant in our final moments or we will look at them with regret, wishing we had spent our time, talent, and treasure differently? Are the most important things in our lives right now used only for ourselves and our enjoyment and comfort? Or are they utilized to help others and lift them up? Is our life, and everything in it, all about us? Or is it directed generously towards others? There is a saying that the only things we take with us in the next life are the things we give away.
Then there is the story of the elderly lady who approached her priest after Mass. She told him that her husband had recently died and she was going to make a significant donation to the parish. She revealed her plan to give the bulk of her estate to the Church. The priest was grateful, but also curious. He mentioned that most people usually left everything to their children. "I know they do," said the woman. Then she smiled, "but I want my children to be sad when I die!"
Each person of course has to decide what to do with their estate, but one thing is clear. As Jesus points out today, none of us can take it with us. And He is not just talking about material riches; it also includes health, beauty, fame, power, influence, popularity, and so many other things that seem so important but fade quickly after we are gone.
The day of our passing may seem far away, especially to the young and healthy, but the years go by quickly. Today's Psalm describes our lives as a passing dream - a flower that unfolds in the morning, but by evening wilts and fades. The same Psalm says that seventy is the sum of a man's years - or eighty if he is strong. For being written thousands of years ago, that still seems dead on the money, if you pardon the pun.
Even though our lives pass swiftly, the psalmist does not encourage resignation. He tells us to "number our days aright," to live each day to the full, to pursue things that matter to God and are important in the context of eternity. That is a challenge for us. We live in a world of short term thinking; buy today, pay tomorrow. Live for the moment, do whatever makes you happy regardless of the consequences. But that is not the way of Jesus. His way acknowledges the goodness of this earth and everything in it while never forgetting that we are made for much more. This world, this mortal life is not the final stop and we must be diligent in storing up treasure in heaven.
We should keep the end of our life before us always. Four military chaplains did this in an extraordinary way. They were serving on a ship called the "U.S.A.T. Dorchester." One of the chaplains was a Catholic priest, two were Protestant ministers and one a Jewish rabbi. None of these men of God wanted to die, but as chaplains they spoke to the soldiers about the need to prepare for eternal life.
On February 3, 1943, as they crossed the North Atlantic Ocean, a torpedo struck the Dorchester. The lights went out; in panic, the soldiers fled to the main deck. Only a few of the lifeboats worked and as the ship listed, many fell into the frigid water.
One of the survivors described landing in the water near the ship. Realizing it would soon sink and drag him under, he swam with all his might. His life preserver had a small red light, which a life boat saw and hauled him aboard. He told about looking back and seeing other small red lights "like a Christmas tree." At the bow of the ship stood four dimly outlined figures, none of them with the little red light. The four chaplains had given their life jackets to others.
Above the noise of the waves, the soldier heard music. It came from the direction of the four figures. The Jewish rabbi was chanting a prayer in Hebrew. The Protestant ministers sang a soft Gospel hymn. The Catholic priest had a beautiful Irish voice and chanted in Latin. The four chaplains had locked arms. They sang and prayed to encourage the others. Of the 904 men aboard the Dorchester, over six hundred died that night - including the four chaplains.
There is much to be said for the way those four chaplains died; fully aware, opening their hearts to meet God. Their final acts were service to others with generosity, peace, and acceptance; treasure that would be waiting for them in heaven! That attitude and calm doesn’t happen on it’s own. It is cultivated now, throughout the years and decades of our life by acts of love and kindness, by ensuring our priorities and values will be the ones we will still be proud of when we stand before God to give account of the time, talent, and treasure he shared with us.
Because none of us knows how or when we will die, that preparation starts now. For that reason, these readings are a gift, a blessed reminder to live each day like it is our first, last, and only. While it is sobering to think about these heavy truths, we are always encouraged that Jesus has prepared incredible things for those who use this life to become rich in the things that matter to God!
