Rich Fool 2013 - Fr. Michael Oleksa

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and

of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Brothers and sisters,

at first this parable might not make much sense

to us in the modern world. Isn't it perfectly

normal for an older man to save up for his retirement?

Isn't that what this gospel is about? He had

lots. He could retire. He could eat, drink, and

be merry. He didn't have to worry about his material

support any longer. He had enough to sustain

himself indefinitely, so it seemed. What's wrong

with that? Why is this man called a fool? Well,

it seems that precisely the final verse of the

parable gives us a clue. He was rich, but not

rich toward God. Now, what does that mean, to

be rich? toward God. He was rich in terms of

this world, but he was not rich in terms of the

kingdom of heaven. Being from Alaska, you can

expect an Alaskan story from me, and that's what

I'm going to divulge now. It's a wonderful story,

one of my favorite Yupik Eskimo folktales of

a boy and his grandmother who are starving. They're

living all alone. Why there's no village nearby

is never explained. What happened to the boy's

parents? Forget that, they never tell you. And

why didn't they notice that they were out of

food yesterday? It's just the way the story begins.

The grandmother says to the grandson, grandson,

we're out of food. You'll have to go hunting.

The boy says, rather arrogantly, I'll be right

back. Now, why do I say this is arrogance? Because

the traditional belief among tribal peoples everywhere

is that the animals are wise, smart, strong,

and intelligent. You never catch an animal because

you tricked it or overpowered it. You only catch

the animal that allows you to catch it. Now,

that may seem preposterous to any of you who

have never gone hunting. But it's the universal

belief among tribal peoples everywhere. In fact,

if I can digress a bit, just to tell another

story in the midst of this one. The story that

both the Tlingit Indian people tell in southeast

Alaska and the Yupik Eskimo people say on the

opposite side of the state along the Bering Sea

is this. The first people arrived, at least in

Alaska, in what is now remembered as a huge clamshell.

And as the emerged raven, the leader of all the

animals, walked up to them and inspected this

group of humans. Shaking his head. Pathetic.

Ridiculous. You've got no wings. You can't fly.

You have no feathers. Your legs are short and

stubby. You obviously can't run very fast. And

worst of all, you have almost no fur. The first

day of winter and you're goners. I'm sorry to

inform you, but you have no future here. But

Raven felt sorry for the first human beings.

He called a convocation of all the Arctic animals.

Look what I found on the beach this morning,

Raven said. And all the animals examined the

first humans and came quickly to the same conclusion.

They can't run, they can't fly, they have no

claws worth anything, and their teeth are stubby

little bits that we don't even know what they're

going to eat. And worst of all, they're going

to freeze to death with the first blizzard. Exactly,

said Raven, I've come to the same conclusion.

The animals said, but Raven, they're kind of

cute. Let's keep them. Raven said, I have no

objection to that, but I don't see how it's going

to be possible. I'm open to your suggestions.

The animals conferred most of that day and returned

by evening with this proposition. They said,

what if we give these pathetic new creatures

our feathers and our fur for cover, for clothing?

And what if we give them our bodies, our flesh,

as meat? Couldn't they survive then? Raven seriously

considered this proposal and concluded, you know,

that just might work. But why would you do that?

What's in it for you? And the animals said, we

will give these ridiculous, pathetic new creatures

our feathers and fur for cover, for clothing,

and we will give them our bodies as meat in exchange

for gratitude and respect. And that's the deal.

That's the covenant the animals made with the

human beings. You can see immediately why Christianity

made such good sense to such people. When the

gospel came and said, the Lord came to offer

himself to you, to sacrifice himself for your

salvation, and as we sing on Holy Saturday, to

give himself precisely as food to the faithful.

Now back to my original story. The boy's going

hunting, you recall. And he walks all day, but

he said, I'll be right back. As if it's up to

him whether or not he will catch anything. And

the animals, having overheard this, withhold

themselves. They hide. He doesn't see a mosquito

that day, not a bird, not a squirrel. He walks

all day into the night. He's starving, he's hungry,

he's frustrated and exhausted. And finally, he

just collapses onto a tree stump. Just as he's

about to doze off to take something of a nap,

a tiny shrew, a mouse, runs right over his foot,

right over his boot. The boy jumps up. What was

that? He grabs a stick and clunks that little

mouse. Now holding it in the palm of his hand,

he's got the catch of the day. It's not much.

He told Granny he'd be right back. If he walks

all night, he can return this to her house. But

she'll laugh at him. You've been gone all day

and all night, and all you caught was this tiny

shrew, this little mouse. And what will Grandma

do with this? I tease my Yupik wife, there's

only one recipe in the Yupik cookbook. It starts

with boil water. She will make mouse soup. But

he'll get a tiny little bite, and so will she.

They'll both be starving. What's the point of

carrying this little mouse home only to be ridiculed

and then have to walk all the way back out here

to hunt again tomorrow? I'll eat it myself, he

rationalizes. I need to keep up my strength.

Granny's just sitting in the house sewing or

something back there. I'm expending all my energy.

I deserve this little snack. And so he devours

that little mouse and falls asleep. The next

morning, he resumes his hunt. He walks half the

day and comes to a pond about as big as this

church. In that pond, there are muskrats. Most

of the muskrats flee from the boy. But one of

them feels sorry for this pathetic, starving

kid and swims close enough for the boy now to

use an arrow to shoot that muskrat. Now he's

got lunch on a stick. It's good to feed one person,

but not enough to share with two. If he walks

all day and all night, he can return this to

Grandma's house, but he'll have to share it with

her. She'll get three or four bites, and he'll

get the other half, and they'll both still be

starving. It's not worth it to walk all the way

back to Grandma's. I'll eat it myself. I'll get

something better, more substantial for Granny

tomorrow. And so he eats the muskrat. The next

day, he comes to a lake filled with beaver. Most

of the beaver flee from the boy, but one approaches

close enough for him to spear that beaver. Now

the beaver is a substantial amount of meat, but

the boy is so hungry now, without even thinking

of his grandmother, he devours the entire beaver.

The next day he arrives at the sea coast and

kills a seal and eats the whole seal. The next

day he kills a walrus and he eats the whole walrus.

The next day he kills a sea lion and he eats

the whole sea lion. And finally, he finds a beached

whale the size of this church, and he eats the

whole whale. Now this stretches him to a size

taller than this roof. He's become something

of a big, fat, ugly monster at this point, but

he's thirsty. So he kneels down and swallows

the Bering Sea. And this makes him larger than

any dinosaur that roamed the planet. the biggest,

ugliest monster that has ever existed, and he

walks home in seven giant steps, shaking the

earth beneath his feet, creating an earthquake

with every step. He finally arrives at his grandmother's

house. Then he realizes what has happened to

him. The house is only the size of me compared

to my shoe. He looks down at that house and realizes

what a big, fat, ugly monster he has become.

And Granny is still in there a week later, faint

with hunger, sewing. She calls out faintly, Who's

there? The boy answers, Don't worry, Grandma,

it's just me. She calls out to him, Well, then

come in, dear. He answers, I can't. And he starts

to cry. Grandma calls to him, what's the matter,

grandson? He answers, not untruthfully, I've

brought home too much food. Grandma says, that's

all right, grandson. You can come in through

the roof. Come in through the smoke hole. He

places one huge foot on one side of the house

and another huge foot on the opposite side. And

then she calls up to him, now jump in, head first.

Head first. As if he were a gymnast in the Olympics

or on a diving board or trampoline. He bends

his knees and he throws his whole body up into

the air. And as his head descends toward the

chimney of the house, Grandma within holds up

her magical ivory sewing needle. He passes through

the eye, through the hole of that needle, and

she transforms him back into his normal size.

And out of him comes the ocean, the whale, the

walrus, the sea lion, the seal, the beaver, and

all that food. And the story traditionally ends

with grandmother saying to the boy, Oh, grandson,

what a good provider you are. Now you can just

say that's a silly old Eskimo fairy tale. But

I submit to you it's a very serious story that

ties us directly to today's gospel. The boy did

not grow up to be a human being. The boy did

not grow up to be the kind of creature he was

intended by God to be. He grew up to be a monster.

Why? Because he cared only for himself. He didn't

care about his grandmother. He didn't care about

anyone as long as he got what he wanted, which

is exactly, of course, the way all babies are.

An infant, when they're hungry, will cry till

they're fed. An infant, when they're uncomfortable,

will cry until their needs are met. An infant

will demand what it needs or wants and will scream

until he gets it. That's how we all are as infants.

But what does it mean to grow up? To be a human

being. To be a real man or a real woman. It means,

in the spirit of today's parable, to care about

others. The boy in the story cared only for himself

and grew up to be a monster. My students at the

elementary school ask, is this story true? And

I have to respond, in some ways it is. Because

whether you grow up to be a Christ -like person

or a monster is your option. And how do we become

inhuman, insensitive monsters instead of real

people, Christ -like human beings? By caring

only for ourselves. By being rich in this world,

but not rich toward God. How do we become rich

toward God? By giving away as much as we can.

This is the rule. What in this life you save

for yourself is garbage. It actually counts against

you. And what you give away in the name of Christ

is gold. It's your fortune. Your heavenly riches

will be calculated precisely based on how much

you gave away. How much you provided for others,

not what you kept for yourself. The ballgame

rules are the opposite of this world. We admire

and respect and defer to those who are wealthy

and powerful and influential, who have made a

lot of money. We think they're something special.

But every nickel and dime of their fortune will

count against them on Judgment Day, as it does

for today's man in today's... parable. He was

rich in this world, but is there any evidence

that he ever cared about anybody else but himself?

Like the boy in my Eye of the Needle story, he

grew up to be a monster. He was capable of helping

many and helped none. He was capable of being

generous and he was stingy. He cared only for

himself and ended his life not rich toward God.

So as we approach Thanksgiving Day in this coming

month, let's give thanks, not just by feasting,

eating, drinking, and being merry. It's allowed.

We give thanks to God for his blessings. It was

the land of this rich man that produced his harvest,

and the land was God's gift to him. Our land

is God's gift to us. But in order to... Properly

give thanks as Orthodox Christians. Let us not

become the monster in today's Eskimo story and

care only for ourselves, but give thanks to God

by being generous to others. Because we will

be rich toward God only to the extent that we

have given away at least some of the blessings

with which God has showered us. Amen.