Andrew Carnegie, in his book The Gospel of Wealth (1889), wrote, “the man who dies…rich dies disgraced.”[1] We still know the name Carnegie today, of course, because of all that he gave away; because of what he did with his vast wealth before he died. He wasn’t a just employer at all, of course; he exploited his workers; he was not above violence. But at least he did that; he was altruistic at the end—which may have saved him.
He was a rarity, however, as most of the wealthy of his caliber before or since have not followed his example. Bill Gates and Warren Buffet—inspired by Carnegie—of course, have signed a “giving pledge,” to give the “majority of their wealth to address some of society’s most pressing problems.”[2] I was in Seattle just yesterday and, walking outside the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, I noticed an enormous exhibit on sanitation; I learned that we use 27,000 trees worth of toilet paper a day. That is interesting, and that is good work; but again, there are not too many following in their footsteps; and, of course, with them, we’ll see. Most wealth—both great wealth and middling wealth—remains hoarded.
It all belongs to a longstanding Christian anxiety about what one should do with one’s wealth. It really goes back to the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries and to the so-called “Commercial Revolution” and the rise of the merchant, the rise of the man who made his wealth (and sometimes great wealth) by means of trading instead of things like farming. Such wealth creation was a deeply suspicious thing in the Aristotelian and medieval west, no matter how inevitable it seemed.[3] What does one do with a man who has made enormous wealth in such an unconventional manner? That was a very real moral and eternally significant question in the Middle Ages? This, by the way, was the era of St. Francis of Assisi; the son of a merchant, his answer was to strip naked in the middle of the city, renounce all his wealth, and live the rest of life as a beggar until he died (again naked) on the ground. But, of course, not many people followed his example either.
Rather, what happened for the most part is that preachers turned up the heat to their preaching—especially preaching against the sin of avarice, greed. Preachers and theologians of the time were decidedly blunt and fearsome. Gratian, for instance, wrote that “a merchant can never or very rarely be pleasing to God.”[4] Others, preachers mainly, talked plainly about hell, about the hell that clearly would receive the rich who neglected to give alms; preachers did not hold anything back when they warned of the judgment that waited for such people. Today we hear talk of hell from strange preachers upset about other things, but that’s not what got preachers talking about hell back then; then it was the neglect of the poor that would get preachers warning their congregations about hell—saying plainly to each soul that would listen that one day you’ll die and one day you’ll be judged.
This, by the way, was the era in which many a wealthy merchant throughout Europe founded many a hospital or almshouse to care for the poor, begging the poor to pray for their souls; for they feared the judgement.[5] They weren’t as sentimental as we are today; they didn’t think that simply calling on Jesus and feeling good about it would make much difference if they did not share their possessions. Anyway, preachers don’t preach like this anymore. I mean, it’s not a subject designed to keep you and me on friendly terms, is it?
Anyway, forgive my blunt reflection, but I am simply reflecting on the blunt words of Jesus, who when asked about some tragedy, wasn’t all that consoling in his answer. He said to them, “[I]f you do not repent, you will all perish as they did.”[6] Blunt words, not really comforting at all. Rather, he simply reminded everybody that that they would die too someday—maybe suddenly, maybe tragically—so you might as well repent; you might as well get right with God now and not put it off. This, by the way, is the same Jesus who would in a few chapters praise Zaccheus, the penitent man who pledged to give half his goods to the poor, the same Jesus the young rich man would not follow, for he couldn’t let go of his possessions—a young man doomed to eternal sadness.[7]
But I’m not just talking about money and possessions; that is simply an example, no doubt an important one. I mean, we preachers could use to go a bit medieval in our preaching about wealth and materialism and greed, but I don’t want to do that today. Instead, I want to make a more basic point—a blunt point like the Lord made, hard truth full of love.
And that point is this: You are going to die, and you do not know when. It could be suddenly; it could be ages from now. But don’t be what Jesus called a “fool” if this night your soul is required of thee; don’t put off what you know you should do. Don’t delay being a true Christian; don’t delay doing the right thing. Don’t delay confession. Don’t delay conversion. Don’t delay giving sacrificially to the poor and to the Church. Don’t delay in prayer. I mean, what if all this really matters? What if you “perish as they did” and go to the judgment with nothing but your good feelings and good intentions? What if the stakes are as high as Jesus said they were?
I’m sorry now; I promise to go more gently on you next week. Please know I preach to myself as much as I preach to you. I’m just thinking about what Paul wrote, that “whoever thinks he is standing secure, should take care not to fall.”[8] It’s just sometimes I am taken aback by the sobering truth of what Jesus said, and it brings me to my knees. And I guess I just hope that happens to you sometimes too. Amen.
[1] Guido Alfani, As Gods Among Men: A History of the Rich in the West, 111, 175
[2] https://givingpledge.org/
[3] As Gods Among Men, 126
[4] Miri Rubin, Charity & Community in Medieval Cambridge, 84
[5] As Gods Among Men, 215
[6] Luke 13:5
[7] Luke 18:18-23; 19:1-10
[8] 1 Corinthians 10:12
© 2025 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield
