How Much Is Enough?

 How Much Is Enough?

Lenten sermon series, "Practices for Better Living," 4

A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Randy K. Hammer, March 7, 2021

Isaiah 58:5-9a; Matthew 6:16-18

In 1957, Fortune magazine named him the richest living American.  And in 1966 the Guinness Book of Records named him the richest private citizen, worth an estimated $1.2 billion (when adjusted for inflation, it amounted to approximately $7.4 billion in 2019).  J. Paul Getty began amassing his great fortune in the oil business and the Getty Oil Company, which he founded in 1942.  In spite of his vast wealth, Getty was notoriously frugal.  There are many stories about Getty’s frugality that border on the absurd. 

In 1973, one of Getty’s grandsons was kidnapped in Rome, Italy, and the kidnappers demanded a $17 million ransom for his safe return.  Getty’s son, John Paul Getty Jr., asked his father for the money, but Getty refused.  But when the kidnappers lowered their demand to $3 million, Getty agreed to pay no more than $2.2 million, the maximum amount that would be tax-deductible.  He lent his son the remaining $800,000 needed for the ransom at 4% interest.

But here’s the point I’ve been leading up to: It is said that someone once asked J. Paul Getty how much money would be enough.  And supposedly Getty replied, “A little bit more.”

How much is enough?  A little bit more. 

Now, I don’t know of anyone in the United Church who has the same type of personality, disposition, philosophy or extreme frugality of J. Paul. Getty.  But perhaps you would agree with me that when it comes to accumulating stuff, and how much stuff is enough, our unspoken inclination and desire is for “a little bit more.”

When I walk through our house and basement, where the overflow stuff tends to end up, and I think back to when Mary Lou and I were married, and how we started out with one new piece and six or seven used, hand-me-down pieces of furniture, it amazes me that we have been able to accumulate the amount of stuff we have accumulated over the years.  Some of you might have the same sentiment – how in the world did we accumulate so much stuff?

Now, where am I going with this?  After all, today’s topic is supposed to be on fasting, one of the traditional spiritual practices of Lent.  You may have noticed that both readings today had to do with fasting, a spiritual practice found in ancient Jewish religion, early Christianity, and Islam.  Fasting is associated with penitence, going without, giving up, depriving oneself of the physical or material in order to focus more intently upon the spiritual.  Over time, people have fasted from all food throughout the day, drinking only water or other natural liquids, then eating a lite, simple meal in the evening. During Lent, people have “fasted” by giving up such things as all meat, alcoholic beverages, caffeine, any kind of sweets or sugar, chocolate, and so on as a form of spiritual discipline.  But I’m not asking you to do any of that today.  If you were already doing it, more power to you.  But my focus today is on something different.

The prophet Isaiah called for a fast, not of drawing attention to yourself through some form of religious ritual or sitting around in rough clothing and ashes (which was an ancient practice accompanying penitence and fasting), but rather to put your religious practice into social action – work for greater justice, help to change the laws that oppress the helpless, do what you can to assist the homeless, share food with the hungry and clothing with the needy.  That is the kind of fasting that really pleases God; so contended the prophet Isaiah.

Jesus, in his teachings about fasting, likewise discourages outward practices or rituals that might make you look pious before others.  Rather, whatever fasting you might do – penitence, giving up, going without, etc. – do it secretly.  Such is between you and God and no one else.

Well, I guess what I’m thinking this year when it comes to the season of Lent and the spiritual practice of fasting has to do with the fact that many of us, as noted in the beginning, are people with a lot of stuff; and how we might start thinking about accumulating less stuff, giving up stuff, and start getting rid of some of the stuff we have accumulated so as to downsize and simplify our lives, but in such a way that doing so benefits others who are less fortunate.  We might look upon such as fasting of a different order.  For instance, If we have a closet full of good clothes we never wear, or furniture stored in the attic or basement that we likely will never use again, or other material goods that we have accumulated but are doing us no good but that could make a positive difference in the lives of others; well, it seems to me that giving up such would be a worthwhile personal, spiritual and socially-conscious exercise for the season of Lent. 

So, is it time to go through those clothes closets and donate those good clothes that we haven’t worn in three or more years?  Is it time to think about giving up furniture that has been in the attic or basement for five years that someone who has lost their home to a fire or who has escaped a domestic violence situation would be elated to have?  And when we think about our full food pantries, it may be that we can share some of the canned goods with a good date on them, or better yet, make a monetary donation to Second Harvest Food Bank of East Tennessee to help feed the hungry. 

I am inclined to think that giving up or donating food, furniture or clothing to help the hungry, homeless, or ill-clothed is a much more commendable Lenten practice or form of fasting than giving up caffeine, chocolate, soft drinks, or something else.

And when you get right down to it, just how much stuff is enough?  Amen.