Sermon preached at Mattins on Sunday 3rd August 2025 at All Saints' church in Rome.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Our church of All Saints, and the whole Spanish Steps district, used to lie at the heart of what was once known as the English Ghetto. During the so-called Grand Tour, young English men and women would come to the Eternal City to admire the decadence of antiquity and the beauty of the Renaissance. 

Elderly Brits would also come here to benefit from the mild Roman climate. Many famous names were residents here—most notably Keats and Shelley, whose home flanks the Spanish Steps themselves. Other important figures of Victorian Britain walked through these very streets. How can we not think of the painter William Turner, who gave us ethereal views of the Forum, or his poetic counterpart, Lord Byron? 

Even the quintessential Victorian writer, Charles Dickens, stayed in the English Ghetto and famously wrote a detailed account of what he liked (and what he did not like) about this, our city. It is very likely that he also worshipped with us when we were just a humble chapel, housed in a granary just outside the Porta del Popolo—back when non-Catholic worship was banned within the city gates.

One of Charles Dickens’s perhaps lesser-known novels is called Bleak House. It is about a long and complicated court case which ends up destroying lives through endless legal delays. The story follows Esther Summerson, a kind young woman with a mysterious past, as well as many other characters affected by the case. Secrets are revealed, lives are lost, but in the end, the lawsuit concludes with no winners, and all the money is spent on legal fees. 

The novel essentially criticizes a corrupt legal system and highlights issues of injustice, secrecy, and social inequality. Legal battles have always been a deeply sad and yet common event in life. Whenever something that should be shared is not shared properly—or not in the way we believe is right—these conflicts arise. 

It dates back to ancient times, to the men and women of cities like Athens and Rome, and has followed us through the centuries, bringing down medieval kings and modern emperors alike. Our own beautiful Baroque city, with its churches and palazzos, is in many ways the product of the greed of the great families that shaped Rome. And that same instinct still appears today—even in ordinary families, regardless of wealth—whenever someone dies and the heirs are forced to divide up what’s left behind. Children, once inseparable, now at war over the grave of the one who raised them. Is this the legacy Christ intended?

Greed knows no geographical, social, demographic, or religious barriers. Growing up often means having to face this uncomfortable reality, as I have come to discover. Sometimes, those we believed loved us turn out to be more interested in our portion—even our closest family. And so, we are right to seek legal advice when greed overcomes love.

Today’s Gospel reading is exactly about this subject. I haven’t even set foot in theological college yet, and I already have to preach on such a difficult topic! In this passage from Luke 12, someone in the crowd asks Jesus to arbitrate a family dispute over inheritance. But Jesus refuses and instead offers a strong warning against greed and the false sense of security offered by material wealth.

He then tells a parable of a wealthy man whose land yields so much that he plans to tear down his barns and build bigger ones to store all the produce, thinking he can then live in comfort. But God calls him a fool, telling him that he will die that very night, and all that he has accumulated will be left behind. Jesus concludes: “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

Back in Jesus’ time, Jewish inheritance laws—as found in Deuteronomy 21—dictated that the eldest son received a double portion. This often led to legal disputes, and rabbis were commonly asked to mediate. So asking Jesus to step in as an arbitrator wasn’t necessarily an unusual request. However, Jesus refuses to take on the role of civil judge and instead shifts the focus from legal injustice to the deeper issue of greed and spiritual poverty. 

Now, imagine that the Holy Land was part of the Roman Empire at the time, and that in Greco-Roman society, wealth accumulation was seen as a sign of success and divine favor. Jesus’ message, therefore, was deeply radical and counter-cultural.

This passage is not simply about wealth or injustice. It is much deeper than it seems. It is about where we place our trust. The man in the parable was not condemned for being successful or for planning ahead, but because he believed that his security and worth came from his possessions. He behaved as though his life belonged to him and not to God. 

And we know that God does not like us challenging Him—not out of pride, but out of His pure love for us, as a parent who knows what is best for their children. And so, His Son Jesus teaches that one’s true wealth lies in being “rich toward God.” That means living generously, with gratitude, humility, and a heart centered on eternal things, rather than temporary riches.

God is calling us to shift our focus—from ownership to stewardship, from self-sufficiency to dependence on Him, and from earthly gain to spiritual growth. This is a timeless message: life, peace, and even salvation are not guaranteed by any amount of stored treasure. These are the fruits of a life rooted in the love of God. 

Luke’s Gospel was written in ancient Greek, and the word translated as “greed” is not just portrayed as a moral fault, but as a kind of spiritual blindness—one that can disconnect a person from God and from others. True poverty is not the absence of material wealth, but the absence of the values and moral standards established by God and lived out in our Christian journey. 

One of the great scholars of the early Church, St. Augustine, reflected on this passage and said: “He who made barns too small for his grain was himself too small for God’s grace.” We should abound in generosity, love, and charity—it is only by sharing in God that we can make our journeys here on earth meaningful and help create a better-functioning society.

Let us now turn to our own time. Modern society, like the Roman world, values wealth and security above all. Another early Church scholar, St. Cyril of Alexandria, wrote about this passage: “He did not remember the Giver, but only the gifts... He forgot that his life was being demanded from him.” God does not want us to live miserable lives. 

He does want us to be successful and to do well. But Cyril makes an important point: we must remember who the source of grace is, where our gifts come from, and how we should allow others to partake in the fruit of our hard work. 

Jesus is not only replying to the greedy brother in the story—He is also addressing the other brother. One should not seek to gain more out of greed, and the other might consider whether his blessings should be shared. This is a passage that requires careful discernment, not just a quick glance. Are we living for God, or are we just building bigger barns? It may be that living for God still allows us to build bigger barns. 

God needs successful people with large barns—because if they live according to His grace and contribute to society, their positive impact will be proportionately great. Their actions are just as valuable as those of people with fewer resources. But their contribution can make a powerful difference in our Christian—yet imperfect—society. God wants successful people who walk in the footsteps of Jesus. Jesus is challenging us to cultivate generosity, detachment, and trust in divine providence.

Now, I deeply believe that Jesus is not being unrealistic. He is not saying that we should give up what is rightfully ours, but He is warning that the pursuit of such things might distract us from what truly matters. Yes, we should fight for what we are entitled to if we are being taken advantage of. But we must not let the greed of others distract us from what is truly important. 

Instead, it should teach us to act differently—to focus on generosity and on loving our neighbor – We should especially focus on building good relationships with everyone—sometimes taking a step back, particularly with our families, and rebuilding bridges when needed: making that phone call, writing that letter. We should think more about the sick and the poor. Collectively, we ought to consider the countries at war—far too many are suffering because of the greed of a few.

Jesus refuses the request not because it is unreasonable, but because He sees what lies beneath it. He wants us to act. He wants us to do well. And it is by doing well for ourselves that we can then help those who were not able to do well for themselves. There is no perfect Christian, but a healthy Christian is one whose heart is focused on love, and who loves their neighbor in word, thought, and deed.

The hymn “Be Thou My Vision” was written in Ireland by a saintly monk whose Celtic name I cannot pronounce. It was later adapted into the beautiful version we know today in Edwardian England. This poem is a personal prayer, asking God to be one’s vision, wisdom, and protection—placing Christ at the center of one’s thoughts and mind. 

May God the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—guide us toward the right path. May we abandon the crooked schemes of the evil one. And may we truly seek to do justice and to do good in the name of the one and living God who died and rose again for us. God bless you all. Let us now pray in the words of our hymn:

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.

Thou my best thought, by day and by night;

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light. Amen.