You Can’t Take it With You
“We become what we love and who we love shapes what we become. If we love things, we become a thing. If we love nothing, we become nothing.” — St. Clare of Assisi
There are a few common threads that knit our lectionary readings together into an uncomfortable garment. From Ecclesiastes: “I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to those who come after me — and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish?” (vs. 12). And from the Psalm: “The wickedness of those who put their trust in their goods, and boast of their great riches? For we see that the wise die also; like the dull and stupid they perish and leave their wealth to those who come after them” (verses 41: 5 & 9).
From the third chapter of the epistle to the Colossians: “Put to death, therefore, whatever in you is earthly: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed (which is idolatry) (vs. 5). And finally, from the Gospel: “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions” (12: 15).
The idiom, co-opted from the 1938 Academy-Award winning film, You Can’t Take it With You, is that common thread. “You can’t take it with you” means that one cannot carry material wealth or possessions into the afterlife. This is not to imply that leaving or receiving an inheritance is sinful. No, it is a reminder: the way one spends and shares one’s wealth during one’s lifetime is worthy of judgment. Material things are temporal, and our obsession with accumulating wealth either because of greed or a mindset of scarcity, is ultimately futile. In other words, “Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity” (Eccl:1:2).
Friends, whether we like it or not, the bible is unambiguous about God’s love and concern for the poor. This does not mean that God doesn’t love the rich. Both rich and poor are held in the heart of God. But this explains why scripture is replete with verses and parables that warn against greed. Whether you call it avarice, covetousness or mammon, the love and hoarding of money and possessions is idolatry. Jesus flatly declares, “You cannot serve God and mammon” (Matt 6:24).
There’s something about money that distorts us. Money is not the root of all evil, love of money is the root of evil. Something about it makes us defensive. “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God’ (Matt 19:28). And something about it causes us to throw up our hands and skulk away: “‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor (Matt 19:21). There is something about money-talk that makes it hard for us to hear scripture in its scandalous, impolite, and radical fullness. God warns us about all kinds of things—or, rather, or habit of falling into a disordered love of those things.
You see, Jesus looks at the rich landowner reveling in his stores of grain and sees a person drowning in self-absorption. A man enamored of his own power. A man oblivious to his own mortality. A man who hasn’t a clue about the source of his blessings. “I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul (in the third person no less), ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, and be merry.’” In the carefully curated narrative of a proud, self-made man, Jesus sees an isolated, insecure fool who has forgotten who toiled on his behalf, forgotten God’s generosity and provision, forgotten that stewardship is not possession, and forgotten that in the face of death, that great equalizer, we are all naked paupers but for the grace of God. The problem is that nothing of what he has—not even his soul—is his. He is a fool in the deepest sense; he acts as if there is no God. To quote Claire of Assisi again: “If we love things, we become a thing. If we love nothing, we become nothing.”
The epistle of James sums up the rich fool like this (MSG translation): “And a final word to you arrogant rich: Take some lessons in lament. You’ll need buckets for the tears when the crash comes upon you. Your money is corrupt and your fine clothes stink. Your greedy luxuries are a cancer in your gut, destroying your life from within. You thought you were piling up wealth. What you’ve piled up is judgment.
“All the workers you’ve exploited and cheated cry out for judgment. The groans of the workers you used and abused are a roar in the ears of the Master Avenger. You’ve looted the earth and lived it up. But all you’ll have to show for it is a fatter than usual corpse (5:1-6).” Ouch! Harsh! This is in the bible; I am not making this up!
Simply put, greed is the desire to possess more than we need. We normally associate greed with money, as did Jesus. But we can be greedy for many things — for food, fame, sex, or power. There’s a bitter paradox in greed; it is a desire that can never be satisfied. It is insatiable. It always wants more. When asked how much money was enough, John D. Rockefeller observed (or admitted?), “just a little bit more.”
I would be remiss if I didn’t address corporate piety along with personal piety when it comes to the sin of greed. From our nation’s founding, capitalist profits have been singed with greed— the dehumanization and commodification of millions of men, women, and children of the African slave trade generated immense wealth for European and American economies, laying the very foundation for modern capitalism.
From the beginning the “owning class” whether it was of humans, land or businesses —the elites of both political parties—made certain that the “working class” served their own interests and padded their pocketbooks. Theologically, their sin reared its ugly head when they refused to delight in the prosperity, safety, and health of their neighbor. This is still true today. We cannot live in unity and peace as a nation if our communal life is pockmarked by gluttony and the grotesque prioritizing of corporate profits over human dignity. Capitalism has been successful at boosting wealth, but it has failed at redistributing it. Let’s be real: it has not always trickled down as promised from the haves to the have-nots. The reality is that unfettered wealth for some creates income inequality for most. Critics describe this economic alienation as “internalized capitalism”—a drive to produce more and more in order to feel that one has “earned” a right to be alive.”1
To be clear, possessing wealth in and of itself is not sinful. As a matter of fact it can be wonderfully transformative; it can be nothing short of miraculous for the lives it can save and change for the better. God desires abundance, financial stability, and access to healthcare for everyone. Unfortunately, the way wealth is hoarded, denied, or redistributed unfairly perpetuates injustice. Giving disproportionate tax breaks to the ultra rich by having to cut Medicaid and food assistance programs for the poor to pay for them does not reflect love of neighbor.
For generations, both political parties have believed America has a moral obligation to share its wealth, promote peace and democracy, and help lift up others from around the world. It is antithetical to the Gospel to put America first, essentially looking out only for oneself, when Jesus made it clear we are to put God first and neighbor second.
The last verse of the Gospel reiterates this notion: “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.” The question then becomes for us, what does it mean to be rich toward God? I believe part of the answer lies in the verses following both passages from Colossians and Luke. Paul writes, “As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony (12-14).
In Luke, Jesus assures the disciples, “‘Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (32-34).
I’ve been thinking a lot about Paul’s exhortation to walk in love. What does it mean to be rich for God, to be invited to share in the eternal economy of Christ’s grace and mercy? For me, this means not being selfish or greedy with my gifts, my time, my care, my checking in and reaching out, my prayers, and my heart space. So much of it is used up by physical and emotional exhaustion. That’s a tired excuse—literally—I know. I also attempt and often fail to model my life on Paul’s advice to the Romans for ushering in the kingdom. By letting my love be genuine; by hating what is evil, by holding fast to what is good; by loving one another with mutual affection. By rejoicing with those who rejoice, weeping with those who weep; and by persevering in prayer. And certainly not repaying anyone evil for evil (Roman 12).
Jesus’s call to renounce greed is for all of us. Frankly, how you do that is a personal discipline based on God’s unique call on your life. And finally, one more verse of scripture that gives me comfort and keeps me straight. This is from the letter to the Hebrew: “Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have; for he has said, ‘I will never leave you or forsake you’” (13:5).
1 Enfleshed Webzine, August 3, 2025: Burns, Michael. “It’s Not You: How Capitalism Drives Depression.” Wisecrack. 15 April 2025. Accessed 11 July 2025. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OesHOZrX9V4