Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Community
April 19, 2009
Acts 4:32-5:11 and John 20:19-31
From the Declaration of Independence:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
From the Bill of Rights in the Constitution (Fifth Amendment):
“No person…except…in time of War or public danger…shall…be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.”
Did you catch that? There is a subtle switch in these two formative documents of our country. Our Declaration of Independence states that we have 3 unalienable rights endowed by our very Creator: Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. But the Bill of Rights in our Constitution changes the Pursuit of Happiness into Property.
There are numerous reasons for this. One is that it goes back to John Locke’s threefold rights scheme of life, liberty, and property from which Thomas Jefferson borrowed heavily. Another reason may be because many of the people who wrote the Bill of Rights had rather large amounts of property that they wanted secure and protected at a time when most Americans had very little. And this provision of property rights in the Constitution should also remind us of the thousands upon thousands of people who were enslaved by this very amendment because they were considered the property of others.
Indeed, the right to own personal property has had a profound impact upon the fabric of our country’s society. It has in large part given birth to the middle class dream where anyone can work hard and save money in order to buy property—houses and land, TVs and couches, vacations and valuables. Without the private ownership of property, I dare to say, there can be no “American Dream”
And though the American Dream consists of the accumulation and growth of property in the here and now, property also grants us a kind of eternal life. In many Western Cultures like ours, it is property and financial resources where we, as suggested by Ernest Becker, seek our own immortality. We work and save and grow our properties so that we can provide for our families, yes, but also perhaps so that our names will live on even after our deaths, in the status of our children in society or in the donations we give to foundations and organizations that bear the names of the deceased.
Property is power. And, if we listen to theologian and pastor Reinhold Niebuhr, we understand that power inevitably changes us—it alters our views and perspectives, it affects where we choose to live, what schools we choose to go to, which clubs and organizations we become members of.
The power of property was revealed clearly to me this week as I was watching a PBS special called Appalachia: A History of Mountains and People. In the film they interview a variety of folks who have lived in or studied the Appalachian Mountains. One such person is an indigenous woman who describes her particular tribe’s two words for our English word “land.”
The first word for “land” includes not just the ground on which we walk, but the trees, the animals, even the people. It recognizes that the ground is life-giving, birthing plants to feed humans and animals, which then die and go back into the ground, just as people and animals are absorbed by the earth after their deaths. “Land” and people, then, are part of the same substance so one word has the ability to encompass them both.
But there is another word in their native tongue for a person as separate from the land, which can be translated as “my land”. And according to historical documents, after Europeans began arriving in this particular tribe’s area, the native peoples began using the term “my land” more and more. The Europeans took the land, land that was once seen not as a private possession, but as a communal right for animals, plants and people, and began parceling it up. And the native tribes began realize in this “New World” that the land was not considered its own entity, its own living being, but that it could be cut and diced into property for individual use. Fences were built—a novelty in Appalachia at the time—and the Native perspective of land as the connective tissue between all life—human, animal and plant—began to lose ground as the power of private property—“my land”—forever altered the landscape North America.
But why all this talk of land and private property? Because in our contemporary mindset in the Western world, our passage for today from the book of Acts creates a lot of dissonance. How in the world can we see the value of these words in our contemporary context:
“Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.” (Acts 4:32-33).
Does this passage not go against our very ideals as people in North America, and citizens of the United States? Do we lose our breath a little at the harsh judgment of Ananias and Sapphira who fall down dead after not turning over all of their profits from the sale of their property? Do we not wonder in amazement at these early followers, like Barnabas, who loved their community of faith so much that they sold all their worldly property for the benefit of others? Are we called to do the same?
The book of Acts was written by Luke from within the depths of the Roman Empire. This Empire—similar to our own country today—was the most powerful on earth and property was a vital part of that power. The problem was the masses of people had no access to bits of property, they lived impoverished lives, and they were economically exploited by absentee property owners.
Property, in other words, was a hindrance to the type of community called for by Jesus, because it created a gap between the rich and poor, those with land and those without. Remember the rich, young man who would not sell all his possessions? He was too engrained in this system and if he sold all his possessions, he would lose all his prestige and power and he would be just like the people who were serving him.
With this image in the back of our minds, Luke calls us now to look at the example of Barnabas. Barnabas is the foil to the rich, young man in Luke. Barnabas, from the island of Cyprus, an immigrant to land Palestine where the apostles were, was not concerned with his property, or his individual finances, or his status in society, like the rich young man so he sold a field that belonged to him and brought all his proceeds to the disciples.
A key phrase for understanding the motivation of Barnabas may be found in verse 32: “the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul. One heart and soul. Barnabas and other early Christians sold all they had and shared with others, because they did not see themselves as separate from others. They were a part of a community and it was the fledgling Christian community that was most important. In their community of faith they found life among fellow believers. In their community of faith they found liberty in the teachings of Jesus that freed them from the Roman economic system. They found that the pursuit of happiness was in the search for Christian community, a far greater blessing than the pursuit of property.
Barnabas was one heart and soul with his faith family. So when others had needs, Barnabas had needs. When others were doing well, Barnabas was doing well. When the hearts and souls of others ached, it was Barnabas who also ached. Thus the generosity of Barnabas wasn’t seen as giving to the needy as much as it was sharing with family. It was a powerful act of faith and solidarity and love and justice. It was a replication of the heavenly kingdom brought down here to earth.
And there is surely a bounteous harvest of hope to be gained from this passage in our lives and in our societies today. Martin Luther has said that security is the ultimate idol. Security is the ultimate idol. And the chief way to gain security in American and Western societies—much like it was in the Roman world—is in the purchase of property: homes, stocks, bonds, and yes, a sense of security can be gained by purchasing securities. Yet we need not be reminded that these “securities” of property are not all that secure—neighborhoods change, properties decline, investments go haywire. It is true now and it was true in the time of Jesus and Luke and Barnabas.
A troubling aspect of this longing for security in our country today can be found in the sharp spike in gun and weapon purchases since the recession hit. Maybe we think that if we only had a gun to protect ourselves, then surely we would be more secure. The problem is, fear is what frequently motivates these feelings—fear of others, fear of loss of property, fear of life—and the focus on the well-being of the whole community in hard times is lost.
This hope for protection and security may also be seen in the houses in America today. An article on the program “All Things Considered” on NPR, dated July 4, 2006, reveals that since the 1950’s the average size of a house in the United States has more than doubled, even though the average family size has decreased. Said one person interviewed: "You know, we are very tenuous…No one knows when the next 9/11 will happen. And these houses represent safety -- and the bigger the house, the bigger the fortress." Said another: "If you have people coming out from the city, where they are bombarded by people, the tendency is to isolate themselves…Their house is their community."
This hope of finding community is at the very heart of Barnabas’ action today. Barnabas does not find his community held within the borders of his property, isolated from others, so he sells it. His community is his family of faith. And this is perhaps why his name is changed in our passage from “Joseph” to Barnabas, the son of encouragement. Because it is the people in his life that are important to him. His hope, his life, his liberty is not found in the ability to purchase, and buy, and accumulate. Rather his life finds fulfillment in the ability to grow and encourage and nurture the community in which he lives.
And how much hope and freedom there is in this perspective today! Like Barnabas we are not to define ourselves by what our culture frequently tells us is important: by property, by job title, by the size of our houses, or by our personal possessions. And we are not to isolate ourselves behind fences and walls and houses. Rather, like Barnabas we have the freedom to step out of our places of security and isolation and pursue the joyous blessing of building and encouraging community, both here within this building and also in our neighborhoods, cities and counties, encouraging environments where those who need care receive it and those who can share, like Barnabas, do so with heaps of generosity. Because, in community is life. In community is liberty. In community is the pursuit of happiness. Amen.Fifth Amendment of the Bill of Rights of the Constitution of the United States of America, December 15, 1791.
Ernest Becker, quoted in William Willimon, Acts, Interpretation Bible Series, John Knox Press, 1998, 53.
Margo Adler, “Behind the Ever-Expanding American Dream House,” July 4, 1996, http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5525283, cited on April 17, 2009.
