In some democracies—say, ancient Athens—they banished the rich, the super-rich, I mean; Aristotle talks about it in the Politics. Ostracism was a mechanism to defend democracy from the power of tyrants or from the exceedingly rich, those who either by their wealth or power had become as he said gods among men or as lions among hares. Sometimes ostracism was just the thing a city had to do, Aristotle thought; it was a kind of occasionally necessary just injustice.[1] But, of course, ancient Greece was constantly unstable, constantly violent. One mustn’t idealize them.

Yet this caution about the rich is constant throughout history. The philosopher, Nicole Oresme, translating Aristotle for the king of France, reminded the king about this ancient Athenian fear, fearing the same in his own age, the fourteenth century. In Italy, in places like Florence and Bologna, there were laws prohibiting so-called “magnates” holding political office; the fear was the same, Aristotle’s ancient democratic fear.[2] But, of course, that too was a violent age.

Yet even in America, Aristotle’s fear has been whispered from time to time. When J. P. Morgan almost single-handedly saved the country from financial crisis in 1907, for instance, he was hailed as a hero, given an honorary doctorate from Yale; but no one wanted to be that dependent on one man ever again.[3] In a few decades would come the New Deal and then the political battle between progressive and conservative forces that still contend with one another in our own day. During the pandemic, these fears, in some, turned into anger. Like when Oxfam published an estimate saying that in the fall of 2020 Jeff Bezos could have given each of his 867,000 employees a $105,000 bonus, simply with what he had made in the spring of that year, and still be counted the richest man in the world: that went viral, that stirred up some of that ancient hatred.[4] But, of course, ours isn’t a violent time, right?

Now, don’t get too worried, I have nothing to say about politics or economics at all. This is not the place, and I honestly don’t have convictions strong enough to offer you anything pretending to be wisdom. Rather, what interests me simply is to think about this Athenian fear in light of Jesus’s teaching, like this parable about the rich fool. Someone in the crowd asks Jesus to arbitrate a financial dispute: “Tell my brother to share the inheritance with me.”[5]

For some reason they think Jesus is someone they should take their money and family troubles to; in this, I guess, we should count them more honest than many of us, for many of us like to keep matters like this far away from Jesus. In any case, they bring to Jesus their problem about wealth; they hope he’ll decree justice, an earthly justice. But that’s not what Jesus does; instead, he talks about a bigger justice. He tells them a story. “There was a rich man,” he begins.[6]

Now the moral of the story is that first the rich man was a fool because he didn’t consider God and judgment and the fragility of life. And second, he didn’t consider the kingdom of God, that sacred community he should have used all his excess wealth to help build. It didn’t even dawn on him that he should have given his excess wealth to the poor or to the Church; he thought it wiser to reinvest it, save up for retirement, maybe buy a bigger house or go on another vacation. And of course, he thought that way because he only thought of the wealth in his possession as his; he clearly was a big property rights guy, to the extreme. The number of times the rich man says I, me, or mine tells you exactly what he thought about his possessions.

And all of this is why Jesus called that man a fool, because when thinking about his wealth, he didn’t consider God, he didn’t consider his neighbor, and he thought he was the sole owner of what he had, not a steward at all. Yet, “this night your life will be demanded of you.”[7] That’s why he was a fool, because he didn’t think about that. Anyway, it’s an interesting answer to a question about inheritance. Consider that you may die today. Consider that if you die today, and it turns out in the scales of justice that didn’t share your wealth with others, you’ll be called by God himself a fool, making you an eternal fool—a chilling thought.

Which, I think, is the Christian contribution to the subject of wealth and luxury and gross inequality. Aristotle counseled ostracism. Marx counseled revolution. Jesus instead suggests we remember God, that we remember his judgment and that no one will escape it. Jesus instead suggests that you and I should be so inspired by the kingdom of God and so rightly fearful of judgment that we share what we have because we know something about eternity, because we see the good of God’s love for the poor, why we should love the poor. Not coercion but conversion: that’s the Christian view. And, of course, Jesus says that all of this is urgent, that you shouldn’t put off being generous, that you should share what you have now; because you never know what today will bring, and you don’t want to be caught a fool.

Now what does this mean for us, for me and for you? Well, I hope I don’t have to connect the dots for you; I hope you see what this means. Andrew Carnegie wrote once, “The man who dies rich, dies disgraced.”[8] Now I don’t exactly endorse that, but there’s something to it, half-Christian though that aphorism is. I really think there’s no disgrace dying rich; but if you die rich having never really been generous, having never shared your wealth with the poor or the Church—no matter how moral and pious you are—then yes, that’s a disgrace. Jesus would call you a fool.

Now I don’t mean to offend anyone, I just am obliged to tell you the truth, and that’s the truth. Which, of course, is why I beg you not to be a fool, for that will not go well with you in the long run, the eternal run that is. Again, I’m sorry to put it that way; I know it’s almost impolite how I’m putting it. It’s just that’s the Gospel, and it’s meant to change us. And change can be difficult, painful, impolite. But it is salvation. Amen.

[1] Aristotle, Politics 1284a

[2] Guido Alfani, As Gods Among Men, 216-217

[3] Ibid., 229

[4] Ibid., 314

[5] Luke 12:13

[6] Luke 12:16

[7] Luke 12:20

[8] Alfani, 123

© 2025 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield