Happiness and Distractions

Homily St. Francis of Assisi, Oct 4 2026, Trinity. Readings: Job 39.1-18; Ps 121; Acts 4.32-35; Luke 12.13-21

Today we celebrate the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi. It’s a way of bringing to a close this Season of Creation that we have been observing in our worship for the past five weeks. St. Francis is probably best known for his love of nature. For his vision of all created things as spirit-filled, reflecting the glory of God, each in its own unique way. Soon we will sing one of the hymns that he wrote, we’ll sing of all creation praising God, the sun with golden beam, the moon with softer gleam, the rushing wind and the rising morn. You have probably heard the story of how St. Francis was found preaching to the birds. It’s a story that symbolizes the close relationship that he enjoyed with creation. During these past few weeks, as we’ve celebrated the Season of Creation in our prayers and hymns, we too have been trying to draw ourselves into a closer relationship with creation: as a source of joy, as a gift of God deserving of our care, as a way for us to come to know our Creator.

Yet the gospel chosen for today to honour St. Francis, though it begins with a gift from creation, it’s more about wealth than creation. In response to a question about how to divide an inheritance, Jesus tells his disciples a story about a rich man whose lands produced abundantly, a surplus, more than expected, more than could be stored in his barns. Being, I suppose, a good businessman, the man decides to tear down his barns and build larger ones so that he will be able to store all his grain and his goods. So what’s the problem here?

Do you remember the gospel reading we had three weeks ago, the parable Jesus told about a king who forgave the debt of one of his slaves? And how that slave, instead of responding by forgiving another who owed him money, instead responded by trying to collect every penny he could and throwing the other in jail.

Well, in many ways, today’s gospel is the same story, though it’s told in different way.

In today’s story, the rich man’s fields produce an abundance, a surplus, more than could be expected. It is a gift; a gift of God, of nature, of creation. Unearned, unmerited grace. Just like the forgiveness in the previous story. What response does this gift call for?  In the previous story, the one who received forgiveness should be forgiving of others. So it is in today’s story. The one who has received generosity should be generous. One who has been given a surplus, more than needed, should share with others, and share in particular with those in need. God’s good gifts to us call forth a response of grace and justice, of generosity and sharing. This rich man surely had enough. And surely there were many workers on his land, the people who had actually planted, tended and harvested the abundant crop – shouldn’t these people also participate in the surplus. God has given the rich man a surplus and so he should provide a surplus to others, his workers, and to those in need. And yet in this story, the only person that the rich man can think of is himself. “What should I do,” he says. “I will store all of my grain, and I will say to my soul, ‘Soul’ you have ample goods laid up for many years.” In a weird sort of way, it reminds me of the movie Castaway, where Tom Hanks, all alone, resorts to talking to his volleyball Wilson.

“I will say to my Soul, relax, eat, drink and be merry.”

St. Francis was a rich young man who lived a frivolous life. He was the son of a wealthy silk merchant in Italy, with a taste for fancy clothes, seemingly without a care in the world. A life of relaxing, eating, drinking and being merry. Then, a chance encounter with a man suffering from leprosy left young Francis appalled by his own uselessness. He renounced his family’s wealth and dedicated himself to caring for the poor and disabled, living a life of poverty himself, and eventually founding the religious order that we still know today as the Franciscans.

In the story that Jesus tells, it’s not that wealth itself is bad. It could have been used for good. Neither is it bad to work hard, nor to build barns, nor to save some of what is earned. No, the problem is a little more insidious than that. The problem is that wealth is a danger to our spiritual health. It is dangerous in two ways:

First, that it distracts us from what really matters.

And second, that it enables a life of frivolity. Which in turn distracts us from what really matters.

What does really matter?

Many of us live our lives in the pursuit of happiness. It’s even enshrined in the constitution of our southern neighbours. For the rich man in the story, the pursuit of happiness meant storing up goods, so that he could say to his soul, to himself, “Soul you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink and be merry.”

Jesus didn’t live that way. Jesus lived a life of service to others. A life where the priorities were loving God and loving your neighbour, a life of nurturing relationships and of love, sacrificial love. Not a life of frivolity, though he certainly shared good meals and many laughs with his followers and friends.

In her book the Power of Meaning, Emily Esfahani Smith notes that while the pursuit of happiness seems almost self-evident as a goal for our lives, the evidence is that it doesn’t really work. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with happiness, it’s good to be happy. But happiness is elusive; it isn’t often achieved by making it our goal. Even Jesus alludes to this paradox when he says that those would save their lives will lose them, and those who lose their life will save it. It seems that we were made not to pursue happiness, but to search for meaning in our lives. To connect with others, to find something worthwhile to do, to experience what it is to be part of something bigger than ourself, to tell stories that help us to understand ourselves in relationship with God, each other and the world. To love God and neighbour, and to serve others rather than be preoccupied with ourselves. To be generous.

The rich man in the story has let his wealth distract him from what matters. His wealth has enabled him to live a life of frivolity. St. Francis lived like that as a young man. But thanks to a chance encounter, thanks be to God, he discovered that we are called to more than frivolity, to more than useless lives.

We were made for meaning, created to live meaningful lives. God calls us into loving relationship with God, our neighbours and indeed all of creation, and calls each of us to a unique purpose which will serve and nourish these relationships. And the paradox is that when we live this way, when we search for meaning, when we live meaningful lives, we will often find ourselves to be happy.

The rich man said to himself “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink and be merry.”

But God said to him, “You fool!”

Don’t be distracted from what really matters.

Amen.