DATE: August 4, 3013
SCRIPTURE:
Luke 12:13-21
©Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton
Compo Beach
Once upon a time there was a Barn. Her big barn doors were sealed shut, her windows firmly latched. Inside her were stored mounds of grain, root vegetables and hay. The air smelled musty, dank and vaguely unpleasant. The once sweet hay and crunchy potatoes had wilted a bit in the dark. Cobwebs accumulated in the dark corners and dust coated the floor. Nothing stirred. Nothing breathed, except a few feathery chickens that nested in the corner, depositing eggs into a drop box that could be reached from outside.
To the barn, it was a little like having indigestion – all that good food piled up with no place to go. Still, the barn stood firm. Her owner, the farmer, needed all that food – for what, the Barn didn’t know. But surely, it must be something important. Because the farmer kept the doors securely locked and the exterior looking so fine: every spring he gave her a fresh coat of red paint, mowed the grass, repaired and polished hinges and locks, so that everyone who walked by admired the view. “Such a handsome barn,” remarked the passersby. And the Barn puffed up with pride, though her insides ached.
Time passed. And the farmer, who had expanded his holdings by buying out his neighbors, enjoyed a bountiful harvest. Under his watchful gaze, wagon after wagon of produce was brought in from the fields. The farmer started to eye the barn with something like discontent as he fingered the keys that hung from his belt. It made the Barn uneasy, like the farmer had sized her up and found her lacking. She did her best to stand tall and hold in all the produce that was stored up inside her, but she knew she was running out of room. Piles of hay already reached into the rafters; her walls groaned and the floorboards creaked. The farmer surveyed her critically, wrung his hands and talked to himself. “He only ever talks to himself,” thought the Barn.
The day the ax fell, she shuddered with the pain of it; shuddered as the farmer tore apart the boards she’d worked so hard to hold in place for him, disassembled her piece by piece, so that her insides were temporarily exposed. He did it under the cover of darkness, on a moonless night. When the sun rose, the barn found herself made new – bigger, better, still filled with produce – last year’s harvest, and this year’s, too.
She looked around for the farmer, and finally spotted him lying in the grass, face down, not moving, his keys still hooked to his belt. Early morning passers-by found him there, covered in dew. “Heart attack,” the Barn heard them say. They carried him off. He didn’t come back. The Barn waited, unsure how to feel or what to do: Still dark, cold and unsettled inside; still aching from having been rebuilt – all nails and hinges and locks. As the sun rose higher in the sky, a dove flew by and settled briefly on her roofline. It gave the Barn a measure of comfort, an unexpected surge of hope.
Then the people came. The Barn recognized many of them: the ones who had found the farmer, neighbors and their children, field hands and folks who used to admire the Barn, but who had never before come near. Now they all gathered around. One man with calloused hands and a surprisingly gentle touch, stepped up, unlocked the front doors and pulled them open. Children ran to the windows, helped each other to lift the wooden bars until every window swung wide. Morning air rushed into the barn. Blue sky and yellow shafts of sunlight streamed through the openings and lit up the cobwebs like silver. Playful breezes stirred up small funnels of dust, ruffled chicken feathers and swept away the stale smell of decay.
For the first time in years, the Barn exhaled … then inhaled the scent of clover and morning dew. She looked around at this crowd of visitors, and noticed how thin they all looked, how drawn their faces. She wondered why. Then she watched as they filed into the barn and reached out for potatoes and grain. Hungry. She thought. They were hungry. Joyfully, she watched them fill their wheelbarrows and bags; joyfully she watched as they laughed and labored. Food was passed hand to open hand. They worked long and hard, made sure that no one left empty-handed. The Barn did everything she could to help: nudged potatoes hidden in dark corners ‘til they tumbled into the light, stood up tall and held her doors open wide.
The chickens wandered outside and roamed freely for the first time, happily plucking grubs from the ground, fleeing from curious children and laying pale brown eggs in the tall grass.
Later, there would be a picnic on the green grass. The Barn would watch the festivities; the generosity with which folks passed their plates and shared their food; the giddiness of children digging into pumpkin pie; the kindness with which each newcomer was welcomed. She would notice again the open, airy feeling inside her, now that everything in storage had been taken out and handed around. And she’d marvel at how good it felt to be empty. Empty, but somehow, amazingly, joyfully, and for the very first time, completely full. Thanks be to God, she beamed. Amen.
PRAYER:
“Take care! [Jesus said]. Be on your guard against all kinds of greed, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Dear God: We’ve all got stuff. Physical stuff, like money or houses, and other stuff, like power and status, knowledge and skill. When we put too much stock in our stuff, when we hold on too tight, (hold on or hold back), lock our doors and batten down the hatches… when we live in fear that there won’t be enough, help us, we pray.
Remind us that abundance comes from giving, not withholding – our riches, our gifts, our love. Whatever it is we are afraid to share, send your Spirit to loosen our grip; enter into our dark corners; blow away the cobwebs and free us from the worry to which we cling. Gently unlock our doors and fill us with fresh, spirit-breeze. Teach us again how to love broadly and give freely, so we may live, not like the foolish farmer, with fists clenched and hearts locked up; but like the barn: with our doors wide open to each other and to You. So may all your people flourish in the light of your love. Amen.
Scripture Texts
Luke 12:13–21
13 Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” 14 But he said to him, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” 15 And he said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” 16 Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. 17 And he thought to himself, “What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ 18 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. 19 And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ 20 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?’ 21 So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”