Living the Dream,
Unhappily
I remember when a friend in college went through a particularly difficult breakup. Her first reaction was to lose herself in any amusement or recreation that she could find. She would skip classes, stay up late watching movies, and eat ice cream and junk food. She did everything she could to forget the past and to be happy. She essentially followed the advice that the rich fool from Jesus’ parable gives himself: “Relax, eat, drink, be merry” (Luke 12:19). You would probably already guess this on your own, but I’ll go ahead and share the result: she was not happy. Beneath all the self-indulgence, there was a broken soul. All the pleasures in the world would not fix it.
Similar stories play themselves out across our world every day. Sometimes it’s just a college student trying to make their way through life’s difficulties. But the story is especially evident in the lives of the rich and famous. For the American Dream has convinced many of us that happiness is to be found in prosperity, and yet the individuals who are living the dream are so often profoundly unhappy. The recent media circus around Johnny Depp’s trial is but an echo of the selfish struggles and hurt and loneliness that haunt a life that chases after riches and reputation. How many times must he have said to himself in his soul, “Relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But beneath all the riches, there lay a broken soul. All the money in the world would not fix it.
The Problem of
Possessions
In today’s gospel text, a man in the crowd demands that Jesus take his side in an inheritance dispute. Jesus refuses. It is as though he already sees the heart of the matter, which has little to do with the inheritance. I remember a couple of occasions previously in ministry when someone shared with me similar disputes that they were having with others in their family. I so wanted to be helpful. I asked about family dynamics, the will, any circumstances that might pertain to the inheritance. I tried to be sympathetic and supportive. I wish, though, that I had followed Jesus’ example instead. “Friend,” he says, “who set me to be a judge…over you?” (12:14). Jesus can tell that the man is using him. He refuses to be triangled. He refuses to speak about something that is not his concern.
Instead, he addresses a danger he sees lurking in the man’s heart. Maybe the man is right in his claim, maybe not. But the rightness of his claim has nothing to do with righteousness—that is, living in right relationship with others and God. The man could be legally entitled to the inheritance, but his very grasping for it may deprive him of what really matters. Even now he is at odds with his brother. Jesus suggests that, in fact, he is at odds with life itself. “Take care!” he says, “for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions” (12:15). And then he tells a story about the problem of possessions.
What is the problem? Well, it depends on who you ask. If you ask the rich man, the problem is simple: space! This is someone who literally has more than he knows what to do with. What’s curious—and perhaps illuminating—is that the man lives entirely in his own world; he never once acknowledges anyone else. Perhaps this is the real problem. His possessions have become like a wall between him and the world. It’s a little odd that he neither gives thanks to God for the abundant harvest nor considers the possibility of sharing its surplus with the less fortunate around him. Instead, he has only himself to talk to. And what he tells himself is that these possessions have secured him the good life for many years. “Relax,” he tells himself; “Eat, drink, be merry” (12:19). Jesus, however, closes the story on the ominous note that the man’s life will soon be ending, and his possessions will be for naught. My own take is that this ending merely dramatizes what is already true. This man is already dead to the world. Beneath the abundance lies a broken soul. All the possessions in the world would not fix it.
Of Things and People
I’ll confess that, growing up, this parable seemed a bit stern and severe to me. It scared me in the same way that the ghost of Jacob Marley scared me in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. I would have conceded that the rich man is rather greedy. He’s got more than he knows what to do with, and he’s so selfish that the thought never even crosses his mind to share it. He can’t really complain when it catches up with him. But still, it did not sit well with me that God chastises him right after the man has expressed his desire for the goodness of life, “Relax, eat, drink, be merry” (12:19). Is it so bad to think those thoughts? To say to yourself, “Life is good. Enjoy it.” Does God want to take that away from us?
I realize today that this discomfort and unease was, in part, an expression of my privilege and my fear of losing what I had. Even though I wouldn’t begin to compare myself or my family to the rich fool, I could still identify with him. When he says, “Relax, eat, drink, be merry,” my mind is suddenly flooded with occasions when my family did just that. I think of Thanksgiving dinners, when I couldn’t even fit all the food on one plate. I think of Christmas gatherings that began early in the morning and ended late at night. I think of summer evenings, when my dad would grill out and my family would sit on the back deck and relax and eat and drink and be merry. So, when God says to the rich man, “Tonight you’re going to lose it all,” I wondered if God were saying the same thing to me. I wondered if it were wrong for me to have enjoyed all those good moments.
…of course not. There’s a big difference between enjoying the company of others and trying to enjoy possessions. I think back to my friend in college. Why was she binging on mindless pleasures in the first place? She was heartbroken. There had been another person, a relationship. That’s where she had discovered life. And then that person was gone, and she tried to fill the void with things. “Relax, eat, drink, be merry” can be heard in two very different ways. It can be filling the void with things. Or it can be enjoying God’s gifts with others.
In fact, the very same terminology of the rich fool—“Relax, eat, drink, be merry”—appears elsewhere in the gospels to depict the goodness of life. These very same terms illustrate a very different way of living. The word “relax” is what Jesus uses when he tells his disciples, “Learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest [relaxation] for your souls” (Matt 11:29). In other words, truly relaxing does not mean drowning oneself in possessions but following the gentle, humble, childlike way of Christ, trusting God to provide according to each need. The words “eat” and “drink,” of course, refer to the activity for which Jesus was notorious. “This man eats and drinks with tax collectors and sinners,” the people would say (cf. Matt 11:19; Luke 5:30), reminding us that Jesus saw tables as an opportunity to connect with others, especially the marginalized. And “be merry” is the same expression used to describe the celebration of the loving father when his prodigal son returns home. In other words, God’s love is all about celebrating—being merry—in the good moments of reconciliation and communion.
I guess what I would want to say to anyone else who feels privileged like me, is that my childhood fears are not confirmed in scripture. God does not want to take the good life away from us who are already enjoying moments of it with others. But—God also does not want the good life to be squandered, and that is what happens when we put possessions before people. The good life is meant to be shared. That’s precisely what makes it good. The Catholic bishop Fulton Sheen once observed that loving things and using people is a recipe for unhappiness, but loving people and using things is a recipe for life.
Perhaps the best embodiment of “Relax, eat, drink, be merry” is Jesus himself. A homeless man whose love met frequently with fear and rejection and ultimately with a cross. Yet we believe he lived the best, fullest life of all. We believe he enjoyed it more than anyone else. He relaxed in his Father’s care and provision. He ate and drank with others, drawing them closer to God. He was merry with others, as merry as a father reconciling with a long-lost son. His life consists not in the abundance of possessions, but in the abundance of God’s love.
Prayer
Whose good gifts are meant
To draw us closer to you and one another:
Give us eyes to recognize
Where our possessions have become a wall;
Give us hearts to feel
The loneliness of this false security
…
Lead us opposite the rich fool.
Lead us in the way of Christ,
Who lived and enjoyed life to the fullest.
In him who was crucified and risen: Amen.
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