Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Title: "That Time of Year Again?"

Text: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

and how would you go about storing one up?

It’s not as if there were some kind of divine vault somewhere,

with little incredibly-safe deposit boxes,

where you could keep them, whatever they are.

There is no First-and-Only Interplanetary Bank of Heaven,

where all your prayers go and accumulate,

or where your good deeds get neatly stacked up,

one on top of the other,

and earn interest on your behalf,

or the alms that you have given

get credited to some eternal account in your name

and pay dividends of some form back to you.

I seem to recall discussing this concept, at least,

with some of my lectionary-study preacher friends …

I think maybe it was in connection with a different passage,

one where Jesus says something about being "rich toward God."

Different phrase, but the same concept.

How do we take our earthly notions of treasure and riches,

which are so important to us,

and translate them into heavenly terms?

Well, to tell the truth, I’m not at all sure it can be done.

How’s that for an unsatisfying answer?

I just broke one of the cardinal rules of preaching, which is:

Never stir up more snakes than you can kill in one sermon!

It does seem to me, though,

that this text from Matthew offers us

a sort of backwards way of answering the question.

A kind of via negativa, if you’ll pardon the Latin;

that is, it doesn’t tell us what treaure in heaven is,

but it turns us in the right direction by telling us what it isn’t.

What Jesus seems to be telling us here

is that earthly treasures and heavenly treasures

are polar opposites.

It’s a different way of saying the same thing

that we heard him saying in Luke last week:

those scary-sounding woes to the rich and blessings to the poor.

He is suggesting that anything which can be stored up on earth,

or earned, or achieved, or rewarded,

is not a heavenly treasure.

So if it’s something that can be stolen,

if it can rust; if moths find it tasty …

it is not a treasure in heaven.

If it is something intangible,

but for which we have received recognition,

or a reward, or an award …

then it may have been a very good and necessary work,

but it’s not a treasure in heaven.

Try this on for size:

The past year, many of you …

and in years prior, many others …

have made the difficult decision to "downsize" yourself

and make the move to Grace Presbyterian Village.

And that move involves you in a whole parcel of grief-filled decisions

about letting go of earthly treasures.

Not necessarily even things that are particularly valuable,

but things that mean a lot to you,

which you can no longer store up,

but must say goodbye to.

Have you thought about that

as a process, instead, of storing up treasures in heaven?

That giving up things to which we are attached,

might help us attach more firmly to God?

I’m digressing a little …

but this is perhaps an example that we might not normally think about

as being an illustration of our scripture this morning.

That laying aside some of the treasures

collected over decades of living,

may be a means toward collecting treasure in heaven.

At any rate,

I think it’s not coincidental that

our preparation for the season of Lent

always begins with this particular scripture.

To be reminded about taking time to pray

is to be reminded that many of the things we spend our time doing

are after all only earthly treasures or pleasures.

To hear Jesus remind us about almsgiving, that is, giving to the poor,

is to be reminded that whatever treasure we do have here is transitory,

and can’t be taken with us.

Incidentally, do you suppose that people really

had some trumpet-player going alongside them,

to toot their horn any time they gave a couple of coins to a beggar?

Seems implausible …

and yet, how many people, or organizations, or corporations,

if and when they give money to a cause,

insist on having their name in the program,

or on a plaque on the wall, or in an ad in the paper, or something.

Of course, there’s something to be said for publicity

that might cause others to want to contribute as well …

Even so, there is a difference between

letting others draw attention to your gift,

and tooting your own horn about it.

"Look, everyone! I just stored up treasure in heaven!"

Well, guess what … you just unstored it.

Receiving instructions about fasting

reminds us that the food we have and the body which it nourishes

belong to this world and this life.

It also reminds us about those who don’t eat

because they have nothing to eat,

which draws our attention back to almsgiving!

Incidentally, contrary to what seems to be trendy these days,

fasting and dieting are not the same thing.

If you give up eating one day a week

in order to lose weight,

that is not fasting.

That’s just the logical consequence of prior self-indulgence!

Fasting is a spiritual discipline

much more than it is a physical discipline.

Which is why Jesus tells us not to be going around

with that lean and hungry look about us:

the point is to pay attention to our own spirit,

not to draw others’ attention to us.

With his instructions about fasting, and prayer, and almsgiving,

Jesus reminds us that our time, our money, and our physical bodies are treasures,

but they are treasures which pass away.

And so, for this season of Lent,

we are asked to do something that is very foreign to,

very unpopular with, this consumer culture we live in.

We are asked to focus our attention,

so far as it is humanly possible,

away from the pleasures of this existence,

away from recognition or reward,

and toward heaven, toward God,

toward a life beyond this one.

Whatever that mysterious place looks like.

In the liturgy for the imposition of ashes,

which we will do in just a few minutes,

we are reminded that we are dust, and to dust we shall return.

Remember also that our bank accounts are dust,

and to dust they shall return.

The checkbook, and the stock certificates, and even cold hard cash itself

are dust, and to dust they shall return.

All those books I’ve been collecting my whole life … (ouch!)

That house you spent years paying off …

This church building itself …

These bodies we inhabit,

which cause us both great pain and great pleasure …

But that’s only sad news if

this is where we have set our hearts.

Out true treasure lies with God.

During the approaching season of Lent,

may we set aside the rusty, moth-eaten,

theft-prone, dusty treasures of earth;

so that our hearts may find their home with God,

to whom we belong,

in this life and in the life to come.

Amen.

© 2004 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)