In 1923, a notable meeting took place at the Edgewater Hotel in Chicago. In attendance were some of the most powerful men in America: the president of the largest steel company, the president of the largest gas company, the president of the New York Stock Exchange, one of Wall Street’s most influential investors, and even a member of President Warren G. Harding’s cabinet.
It was an impressive gathering of wealth, status and influence. But 25 years later, what became of these giants of industry?
Charles Schwab, president of the steel company, died bankrupt. Howard Hobson, president of the gas company, suffered a mental breakdown. Richard Whitney of the New York Stock Exchange went to prison. Jesse Livermore, the Wall Street bear, took his own life. And Albert Fall, the cabinet member, was pardoned from prison so he could die at home.
It seems the wealthy often fall dramatically. It sounds quite harsh. But my friends, this sermon is not meant to condemn wealth. It is natural and wise to plan for the future – to invest, save, insure and prepare for what lies ahead. But today’s Gospel offers a sobering reminder: there is danger when our possessions begin to possess us.
Whether it’s a child’s toy or an adult’s stock portfolio, material things can easily dominate our hearts and shift our focus away from what truly matters. And when that happens, everything else – including our relationships and our faith – takes second place.
Jesus tells the story of a rich landowner. The man was blessed with abundant crops. He tears down his barns to build bigger ones. But listen closely to his words:
“What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops … I will say to my soul, relax, eat, drink, be merry.”
His thoughts are entirely self-centered. There is no gratitude, no mention of others, no desire to share his abundance. He is the only person in his world. The landowner neglects not only his relationship with those around him, but also his relationship with God.
And then comes the divine interruption: “You fool. This very night, your life will be required of you.”
God steps in, not as a cruel judge, but as a forgotten voice. The man had assumed he controlled everything, even time. But he had forgotten his life was a gift. He had stored up wealth while ignoring the things that truly matter: his soul, his community and his Creator.
We are reminded that one of the quiet dangers of wealth is blindness. It can make us unable – or unwilling – to see the people at our doorstep: the poor, the hungry, the lonely. And while some may ask for material help, others seek something less costly, yet more personal: our time, our compassion, a listening ear, a kind word, a human touch.
Today’s Gospel doesn’t condemn success, power or prosperity. It simply challenges us to ask: “Do I love people more than things? Am I storing up treasure in Heaven, or only on earth?”
Jesus teaches us to value what lasts. Not possessions, which fade, but the person we are becoming through how we live and love.
Because when our final day comes, God won’t be counting what we owned. He’ll be looking at who we became.
