NOTES for Luk 12:16-21

One remarkable detail draws attention in this text. The rich man talks to himself. It is precisely to his own soul that he addresses the words: "rest, eat, drink, be merry." And this contains the key point that allows us to understand the text correctly.

To talk to oneself is madness. But not simply madness; it is the worst madness in the world, because it means that, for the person, God does not exist in principle. It means that the place of God is occupied by the person himself. A person accustomed to living before God cannot talk to himself at all, because how can one talk to oneself when God is near?! After all, we usually call mad not simply people who talk to themselves, but those who talk to themselves when other people are nearby. But when there are no people nearby, God is nearby. This means it is no lesser, but even greater madness (though society usually considers the opposite) to talk to oneself, even silently, when no one is nearby.

And what good would there be, someone may say, if he had addressed those same words not to himself but to God? Would his sin have been any less because he addressed God with the same self-confident boasting? But the whole truth is that this is impossible. Even if a person tries to boast before God, as if declaring his independence from Him, very soon, if the person is truly addressing God, God softens his heart and turns him to Himself. Only when a person talks to himself can God do nothing.

Stability and confidence in tomorrow are viewed as one of the main achievements of civilization. Nothing outrages people as much as the loss of this good. No scientific knowledge, education, or understanding of the structure of the world helps a person who wants only one thing: that his desire to live in a static world be fulfilled once and for all. The world must be unchanging; it must freeze at the moment when I feel most comfortable. The ancients teach us that one cannot step twice into the same river. Physics unsuccessfully tries to explain to us the instability of the smallest elements of creation. But people who are physicists, people who are historians, all of us, continue to demand that today be the same as yesterday, that everything be stable. Because such a world can be controlled. In it we can manage without God. Yet He explains everything to us more simply than all the sciences. We cannot prolong our life against His will. And this will always be a reminder to us that confidence in tomorrow is confidence in God, who loves us and gives us life.

What does it mean to "be rich toward God"? We can reflect on the words of the apostle Paul: "To me, the least of all the saints, this grace was given: to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ" (Eph 3:8). "The unsearchable riches of Christ." What are they? But they are called unsearchable precisely so that we would not understand this fully, and therefore would not fully understand what it means to be rich toward God.

Our holy teachers say that this means doing works of mercy, giving away one's material possessions and one's labor, and that is understandable and beautiful. But, truly, this is not quite enough. It is possible to fall into such an abyss on this path if you are not now "the one to whom it has been given from above" to do such works. We have all witnessed such sad stories in life. A person appears to have everything: kindness, self-denial, and the desire to give everything away; yet after several years of "holy" life, he falls into the abyss. Why? Because the things we have listed, summing up, let us say, St. Philaret's teaching on the words "be rich toward God," are still not enough. After all, this wealth toward God, wealth for God, wealth of God remains unsearchable. It is deeply symbolic that in our language these words have the same root.

But let us listen to what the apostle says next. "And to bring to light for everyone what is the stewardship of the mystery hidden from eternity in God, who created all things, so that now the manifold wisdom of God might be made known through the Church to the rulers and authorities in the heavens, according to the eternal purpose that He accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have boldness and confident access through faith in Him." (Eph 3:9-12) In fact, here the description of what this wealth is has been revealed in full measure. It is hard to retell, hard to try to convey these words in our own words, to bring them closer and make them more understandable. But the main point appears to be that this "manifold wisdom in the heavens" is acquired, which, as we see it, is this wealth, only through "boldness and faith in Him."

This parable is humanity's dream. To gather as much as possible, insure oneself against every disaster, cushion every possible fall, so that nothing can destroy our comfortable existence. The whole development of civilization is built on this desire: after working, to gather everything into the barn and feel independent of what is happening.

When talking with people, one constantly runs into the conviction that this is possible and that, if this goal cannot be achieved, it can be considered a misfortune and a complete defeat in the struggle for the barn. Nevertheless, the problem is that this illusion is the first thing to perish not only in a collision with reality, but even under a more attentive look at what is happening around us. One close look, and it will become clear that the only guarantee for a person is not to gather a barn, but to grow into God, what Jesus Himself described as the life of branches near the vine, so that no storm could tear us away from Him. This is the only prescription He gives us for life in the world.

In the Gospel there are many parables told by the Savior about rich people, about wealth, about its meaning in life, and about life itself. Sometimes, as in this case, the parables were connected with a concrete situation: Jesus is asked to resolve what today would be called an inheritance dispute, and He refuses, declaring that such disputes are not His business. The parable becomes an illustration of His words, an explanation of His refusal to deal with the division of someone else's property. Meanwhile, the request addressed to Jesus was precisely evidence of His authority in the eyes of those who came to Him, recognition of the fact that He, Jesus, would be able to divide the inheritance justly and in accordance with the Torah. Among the Jews in antiquity, and later as well, people often brought questions to teachers of the Torah and learned rabbis that Gentiles usually resolved in courts. They resolved them, including problems connected with family, inheritance, and property law. In principle, anyone could be a judge if he knew the Torah, could make a decision corresponding to the Torah, and if the litigants trusted him. This kind of arbitration was widespread in Jewish society at all times.

So Jesus is asked to become such a judge in an inheritance matter, and He refuses. And after refusing, He then tells that very parable of what we usually call the foolish rich man. It can appear that by this parable Jesus only wants to tell us that it is better to be poor than rich, because that makes it easier to enter the Kingdom. In reality, however, everything is somewhat more complex. Different people experience poverty in different ways too.

The main point here is different: a person's real, genuine life does not depend on his possessions. A person's life, not only spiritual life but life in general, is determined not by what and how much he has, but by who and what he is. One can be poor or rich. The main question is what a person connects himself, his "I," with, where, to speak in Gospel language, his treasure is. For where his treasure is, there his heart is also. There is his genuine life.

If it turns out to be connected with what a person can easily lose, even simply by dying, then his life will end at the moment he parts with what he cannot take and carry away with him. Then the only and absolute reality at the moment of parting with earthly life will be separation, loss, and death. And the life, that life of the Kingdom which he could have lived in fullness, the person will never know. Here, however, it is his own choice. To each his own.

“You are worth more than many small birds”—today these words sound like news to many people. When the price of a human life is a penny—or many pennies—food inevitably becomes more important than the soul and clothing more important than the body. The reality of God’s Kingdom frees us from this slavery to money, food, clothing, and the oppressive anxiety about life. The Lord simply tells us, “To Me, you are more important and more precious than all these things.” We are very skilled at seeing the ugliness of this world and the ugliness of the people around us, and sometimes our own. But the Lord says, “To Me, you are more beautiful than the flowers of the field.” We tremble with fear for our well-being, health, and life. But He says, “Do not be afraid; My Kingdom belongs to you.”

Speaking to the disciples about the Kingdom, Jesus describes it above all as a new life opened to those who seek it. But it can be found only in the case of absolute openness on one's own part. To live the life of the Kingdom, one must renounce one's own life. Not one's life-space as such, not that flow of life which the Bible calls the soul, but the attempt to appropriate this space and this flow for oneself, to regard it as one's inalienable property, belonging to oneself by right.

In the Kingdom everything is different. There life is shared. One life for all. It is not owned; it is given for use. And the measure of this use is limited by nothing except the spiritual potential of the person himself. As much of the life of the Kingdom as he can contain, that much he will receive. But it does not become anyone's own in the sense in which we are accustomed to use that word with reference to property relations in our world.

The life of the Kingdom is yours insofar as you can live by this life. And therefore Jesus advises surrendering oneself to the flow of the life of the Kingdom. Enter it like a river. And move together with it. Without trying, as people say today, to fix anything in place. Without trying to evaluate one's own states, achievements, or failures. Without clinging to anything that attracts and holds a person in this world. And certainly without trying to fit the life of the Kingdom into religious frameworks: the new life cannot be kneaded on either Pharisaic or Sadducean leaven. The Kingdom does not fit into any human frameworks, but it does fit into the human heart. If, of course, it becomes the person's chief treasure. For where the treasure is, there is the heart.