Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Rev. Jennifer Masada - St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church - Kapa’au, Hawai'i
August 3, 2025 - Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C
Hosea 11:1-11; Psalm 107:1-9, 43;  Colossians 3:1-11; Luke 12:13-21

Opening Prayer: God of abundance, through you all things flow. Help us to see and share your love that comes to us without ceasing. Amen.

Imagine sitting with Jesus, with the opportunity to ask him anything. What would you ask? This is how we started our conversation last week, remember? A disciple asked Jesus to teach us how to pray. 

In this week’s story, a person from the crowd makes a very different request. In fact, it's more of a demand. “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” Oh, that’s bold!

Clearly there’s a back story between the two siblings, but Jesus steers clear. “That’s not my job and none of my business.” But he does offer guidance, perhaps for the benefit of everyone else in the crowd. 

“Take care!” he says. “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one's life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”

This is a simple statement and yet it cuts right to the heart of what we sometimes forget. Life is not measured by what we can store away or display. When we strip away the things we can count and hold, what remains is what really makes us alive.
Life consists of relationships and connection — the love we share and the ways we belong to one another.

Life is found in experiences and presence — in moments of awe, laughter, learning, in the ache of loss, the joy of holding someone’s hand, and simply being alive in this body in this moment.

It is shaped by growth and becoming — the inner journey where we are stretched and transformed by both joy and struggle.

Life deepens through service and impact — the small and large ways our lives ripple outward to bless others.

And through it all runs Spirit and meaning — the thread of the Divine that weaves through every breath, every heartbeat, every act of love.  This thread of Divine mystery reminds us that we are part of something  larger than ourselves.
Material wealth can support life, but it is not life itself. Jesus reminds us that life is what fills the space beyond possessions: love, breath, wonder, connection, and the journey of the soul.

We feel this deep down, but sometimes we get distracted. What pulls us away? 
Sometimes it’s fear — fear of not having enough, fear of the unknown, fear of being vulnerable. We reach for things we can hold because they feel more certain than love or trust.

Sometimes it’s cultural noise — the endless message that our worth is measured in what we own, that security can be bought, that success is something we can display.
Sometimes it’s comfort and control — the illusion that if we can gather enough around us, we can protect ourselves from change, loss, or longing.

And sometimes, it’s simply forgetfulness — forgetting that life is more than possessions because we get swept up in the busyness of getting through the day.
Jesus speaks as a loving and gentle parent, redirecting our attention to help us focus on the flow of life and the abundance that comes from God’s creation. When we are distracted by fear or the noise of the world, Jesus loves us through it! 

We know this story. We hear this in our Eucharistic Prayer: how we fail to see God in ourselves and others, and yet God never stops loving us! We’ll hear it again in our closing hymn. 

And we heard it in the deep tenderness of Hosea’s words this morning. In that passage, God speaks to us as a loving parent, saying, “It was I who taught [them] to walk, I took them up in my arms… …I led them with cords of human kindness, with bands of love. I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. I bent down to them and fed them. …And yet, the child has turned away, chasing other loves, other securities. …But I can’t give you up, I can’t hand you over… My heart bursts with love, my compassion grows warm and tender.”

Whatever we are seeking, whatever we are hoarding, whatever we are afraid to lose—it pales next to the abundance of Divine love, which flows through us always, love that sustains us, love that is ours to give.

We may not think so, but we all have much to share, an abundance to give. Our insights, skills, love, compassion, and time are meant to flow so that all may have what they need to thrive.

What would it look like to live like that? To trust that the Creator’s bounty and love really are enough to satisfy the thirsty and fill the hungry? To believe that we don’t need to cling to our storehouses of goods? To release our fears knowing that Divine compassion is already reaching for us? 

This can be a time of new beginnings, a time to release our past habits. This can be a time to stop measuring life by what we can store away or display, a time to strip away the things we can count and hold and focus on what really makes us alive.

My friend Lori Erickson wrote about new beginnings recently, as she and Bob moved to a new home. She learned a lot from the process of packing and unpacking and shared some tips. Here are two of them:

1. You really don’t need two bundt pans. Or three black cardigans. Or the cord that “might be for the speaker thing.” Beginning again asks a radical question: What do I actually need now? Not what I used to need. Not what I might someday need. Letting go creates room for grace, for sunlight, for whatever’s next to find you.​
2. Every box is a spiritual test. What are you still hauling around—physically, emotionally, theologically? This isn’t just about bubble wrap. It’s about assumptions, roles, grudges, identities. Every time you choose what to unpack, what to donate, and what to toss, you’re shaping your future, one decision at a time.
   

Here’s the good news: Divine love is not a resource we have to hoard. It is an endless well. When we align with Christ consciousness, we move with that flow. We release our grip on stuff, let go of fear, and start living into the abundance that was always meant to move through us. And we remember to share what really makes us vibrant and alive: love, breath, wonder, connection, and the journey of the soul. 

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