“You shall not steal… You shall not covet.”
Eighth Sermon on the Ten Commandments
Lent IV; March 26, 2006
Philippians 4:10-20
These two commandments go together easily, since both are concerned with protection of property and our relationship with our material goods. But the real reason I put them together is to free up Palm Sunday for the cantata our choir is preparing. Joseph Martin’s Song of the Shadows will make a better Palm Sunday sermon than anything I would say about the Tenth Commandment.
Combining an action – stealing – with an attitude – covetousness – in one sermon allows me to focus on the matter of our relationship with material goods. In the course of our pilgrimage over the centuries it has become more complex than Jesus’ simple command to the young ruler: “Sell all you have and give to the poor.”
It’s also more complex than a simple assumption that a person is rich because of God’s blessings. Wealth is a sign of God’s favor and poverty is a sign of God’s disfavor, says a way of thinking that is often mistakenly attributed to us Calvinists. I do remember an ad I saw on TV once: a well-dressed, good-looking man is talking to the camera about how everything in his life has got better since he joined a particular church. He kisses his beautiful wife good-bye and wishes his perfect children a good day at school while exiting his McMansion in the suburbs, then goes down the walk and gets into his expensive late-model car to go to work. All the while he is talking about God’s blessings since he became a Christian.
I was still a youth at home with my parents and it was their TV set, so I couldn’t throw anything at it. But even at that age I knew enough to be angry with that corruption of the Gospel.
The Westminster Catechism – the foundational summary of the Faith for us Presbyterians – has a long list of things these two commandments require and prohibit. I can summarize them this way: be honest in your work, use your money for your well-being and that of others, and do not try to get money at the expense of others, even through legal means. The reading from Leviticus I chose for today (19:9-14) says much the same thing: don’t reap your entire harvest, but leave some for the poor; pay your workers on time; be honest in your business dealings. The aspect of that series of commands that interests me is the reason given: “I am the LORD.” That is, to be generous and honest are ways of honoring God. If you fail to pay your workers on time, if you keep all of your harvest for yourself rather than sharing with the poor, then you show your contempt for God.
Lest you think these matters in Leviticus are only for the farmers among us and not everyone, keep in mind that it was written for an agricultural society and we have to interpret it for ours. I doubt there is much gleaning in the local corn and soybean fields anyway. You and I take it seriously when we buy food for the food bank or contribute to the Presbyterian Hunger Program. Don’t just look at Steve, Seth, Marty or anyone else here who may happen to grow grain.
So, how shall we relate to our possessions? A dear friend told me of a woman she knew: as this acquaintance sat in her tastefully decorated home, on designer furniture and surrounded by original works of art, she waved her hand dismissively and said, “I have transcended material things.” My friend didn’t believe it for a minute.
Paul writes about his own relationship with goods in these couple of paragraphs; his thoughts are helpful. The key is in the simple statement, “I have learned to be content.” When there is plenty of food, he enjoys it; when there is little, he enjoys what there is. If he has to do without, he figures there will be something the next day. This is not the contentment of the person who sits back and assumes someone will take care of him; from time to time in the New Testament you get the picture of Paul making tents to sell in order to support himself. He works and expects to be paid for his work, but he doesn’t give in to the desire for more.
I think our pursuit of “more” is the result of our desire for happiness. I am learning there is nothing wrong with wanting to be happy; the problem is looking for happiness in the wrong places. It isn’t found at Wal-Mart or Westroads Mall. It isn’t even found in larger bank accounts or a broader stock portfolio. I have read that people of whatever income have said that all they need to be happy is a little larger income – whether it’s a little larger than $25,000 a year or $250,000 a year. A psychologist in Illinois and a researcher in the Netherlands, studying the connection between income and happiness, both discovered that up to a point there is in fact a connection. That is, in getting out of poverty and into the middle class, money does, in a sense, buy happiness. Middle-class people are, generally speaking, happier than poor people. People who live in societies with a strong middle class are, generally speaking, happier than people who live in desperately poor societies. But once a basic middle-class living is reached, then increasing income has no connection with increasing happiness.1 The Dutch researcher writes that in poor societies, increasing per capita income correlates with increasing happiness; once the people as a whole are no longer in misery, then there is no further connection.2
In other words, once you have enough money to be able to eat, be clothed and be sheltered, more money will not make you happier, will not make you – to use Paul’s word – more “content.” This also suggests that getting rid of everything and living in a tent in the forest, subsisting on roots and berries, will also not make you happier.
I used to think that it was wrong to want to be happy. I’m not sure what changed my mind; I hope it was in some way the influence of the Holy Spirit. I do realize, however, that we cannot pursue happiness directly. That is, you will not become happier by simply looking for happiness. Becoming happier is a result of having a sense of purpose.
That is how Paul learned contentment. He learned to be content, whatever his material condition, because he had a sense of purpose to his life. He had something to look forward to when he got up in the morning. You know what it was: to serve Jesus Christ. “I can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens me.” (v. 13) By dedicating each day to Jesus Christ, he learned to be content and not to yearn for more. Because of Jesus Christ, Paul learned that the motto of the good life is not, as the bumper sticker says, “The one who dies with the most toys wins.” For Paul, the motto of the good life was, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
It would be absurd of me to claim that serving Jesus Christ is the only way to find purpose and therefore happiness in your life. I have known many Christians who were not particularly happy, as well as many who believe in some other way or have no religion at all who have a strong sense of purpose and are very happy. I won’t start in today on why I think serving Jesus Christ is the best purpose for you – that’s another sermong and it’s getting time to wrap this one up – but I do wish to make it clear that serving Jesus Christ is how St. Paul gained purpose and therefore learned contentment, and how I have gained purpose and am learning contentment.
I suspect that one of the reasons you and I live in Clarinda, Iowa rather than in a major metropolitan area is that we are not particularly driven by the desire for more stuff. We realize that contentment, happiness, is found in ways other than making more money and spending it on more toys, as nice as they are. We want to put our money to use, providing for our own well-being and making a better life for others in our community and elsewhere in the world. There are times when I worry about the next generation, though, even here in Clarinda. I hope they learn these lessons. It took me a while; I was raised in a nice, comfortable middle-class family, and so when I started out as an adult I had an unconscious belief that I should have the same standard of living that I had as a youth. I compared my life then not to my parents’ life when they started out, but to the life I had in their home. Consequently, I went terribly into debt and it took me years to crawl out of it. When I see young people talking on their cell phones while driving their extended-cab trucks around town, or hear them complain about having to walk anywhere, or hear them or their parents claim “there is nothing for them to do here,” then I suspect we are looking at folks who will have a hard time learning Paul’s lesson of contentment.
If you are raising them as followers of Jesus Christ, teaching them to internalize the Commandments and the teachings of Jesus, and helping them look for happiness in serving Christ rather than in the newest video game, then you’re on the right track. You are doing as much for their happiness and your own as when you provide a nice home, three good meals a day, and warm, attractive clothing.
I’ll finish with a prayer from our Book of Common Worship, because it captures the sense we Christians have about our material well-being. It’s included among the “Prayers at Mealtime,” but it’s good for other times as well.
Let us pray. Blessed are you, Lord. You have fed us from our earliest days; you give food to every living creature. Fill our hearts with joy and delight. Give us what we need and enough to spare for works of mercy in honor of Christ Jesus, our Lord. Through him may glory, honor and power be yours for ever. Amen.[1]
Robert A. Keefer
Westminster Presbyterian Church
Clarinda, Iowa
[1] Mark Satin, From material want to happiness-, purpose-, and meaning-want. Radical Middle Newsletter, March 15, 2006.
2 Ruut Veenhoven, Conditions of Happiness. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kluwer Academic, 1984. From the abstract of chapter 6, posted on the website www1.eur.nl/fsw/happiness/index.html, “World Database of Happiness,” of which he is a founder.
[1] Theology and Worship Ministry Unit, Book of Common Worship: Daily Prayer. Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 1993, p. 159.