Robert Barron - All Things Must Pass
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Peace be with you, friends. Our readings for this 18th Sunday of Ordinary Time are marvelous. They center around a theme that is fundamental to the spiritual life: detachment. I want to delve into it by referencing a song. I often go on long car trips now in my diocese, traveling from Wisconsin to South Dakota. So, I spend a lot of time in the car, listening to audiobooks. Audiobooks. I’m dating myself. I have my iPhone, and I ask for music. As you know, I’m a big Bob Dylan fan. However, after Bob Dylan, I probably like the Beatles the best, along with a lot of classic rock like the Rolling Stones, The Who, and Van Morrison. That’s my thing.
Well, these machines learn our preferences. Since I’ve constantly requested Beatles songs, now I find that almost every time I ask for a song, the second or third one that comes up is George Harrison’s song, «All Things Must Pass.» Of course, for the younger kids, ask your grandparents about George Harrison — he was one of the Beatles. Right after the Beatles broke up, Harrison released a marvelous double album called «All Things Must Pass.» The title song is rooted in his Hindu interest and reflects on the very essence of everything in the world: all things must pass. The sunset doesn’t last all evening, and the nighttime doesn’t last forever. And then the great chorus: all things must pass. All things must pass away.
It’s interesting. I hear that song so often now. I’ve gone home and have my guitar. I’m not a great guitar player -just a campfire guitarist- but I can play songs and chords. I looked up «All Things Must Pass,» and I noticed that as it transitions into the chorus, which is very singable, it usually gives you a major chord that draws everyone in. However, «All Things Must Pass» moves to a B minor chord for the chorus, adding a moody quality: all things must pass, all things must pass away.
Almost every major philosopher and religious figure globally has intuited this great truth about our world. Yes, there are good things in it, but they don’t last. A beautiful sunset lasts for a while; we exalt in it, and then it’s gone. Our meal, which we’re enjoying immensely, vanishes in a couple of minutes. A great conversation with a friend, where you share your life deeply and find it interesting and wonderful, eventually comes to an end. Perhaps most poignantly, it’s with music. Unlike a sculpture you can see for a long time, music comes and goes, doesn’t it? The notes flow past you; you’re listening to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony or some marvelous piece, and then it’s over. All things must pass. All things must pass away. That’s life.
Well, now with George Harrison in mind, for those like me old enough to remember George Harrison, but young people can ask Siri about him. She’ll play it for you. With that in mind, look at our first reading from the marvelous book of Ecclesiastes. Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth. Vanity of vanities. All things are vanity. Qoheleth, which is Hebrew, means like the assemblyman, something like that. You could say the churchman because «cahal» is something like church assembly. So this person, this Qoheleth, has been identified in the great tradition with King Solomon, someone who had it all.
Think of Solomon, the wisest, richest, most powerful figure of his time. His conclusion: all things must pass. Vanity of vanities. The Hebrew behind vanity there is very interesting. It’s the word «hevel.» Hevel means something like wind or even bubble. It sort of sounds like bubble. Hevel. Bubble. All things are like a bubble. Think of a bubble, and as it’s floating there, you think, «Hey, that’s beautiful. Look at that.» And sometimes, you know, the colors kind of play on a bubble, and then just like that, it’s gone. All things pass away. All things pass away.
Listen, much of the book of Qoheleth is simply specifying this idea, giving example upon example. But listen to some of them. Here’s one who has labored with wisdom, knowledge, and skill. And yet to another who has not labored over it, he must leave his property. So think of someone whose whole life has been about property and riches: «I’m going to work. I’ve got to get up early, and I go to bed late, and I’m going to do whatever I can to get the biggest house and the most money.» And then what? Your life is over.
The psalmist says it’s like a sigh. I’m right, aren’t I? Anyone old enough knows that your life’s over like a sigh, and you’ve spent all this time and energy, and what happens to all that stuff you’ve piled up? It goes to someone who maybe never worked a day in his life. It’s inherited by someone you don’t even know. All things must pass. All things must pass away. What profit comes to man from all the toil and anxiety of heart with which he has labored under the sun? All his days are sorrow and grief. At night his mind is not at rest. This also is vanity.
You can think of all the things that we think about, worry about, and fret over, and we’re plotting and planning, trying to get this and get that: wealth and honor, and people will think highly of me, and I’m going to do everything I can to get that reward, and I don’t want people thinking highly of that guy. I want them thinking highly of me. And so I fret and worry, and what? All things must pass. All things must pass away. Vanity of vanities. Bubble of bubbles. Everything’s like a bubble. Okay. So, you say, «Well, am I left in sort of despair now? What’s the point? Life just seems like it doesn’t mean anything.» No, no, no, no.
Listen now to St. Paul. This is our second reading, Paul to the Colossians. If you were raised with Christ, seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Think of what is above, not of what is on earth. Okay? Now, just to be really clear about this, this is not some despairing flight from the world spiritually. This is not to say, «Well, this life is just a waste of time. Forget about it, and let’s get up to heaven as soon as we can.» No, no. We’re playing a much more subtle game here. We’re not saying everything in this world is bad. No, no. What we’re saying is nothing in this world finally lasts. Therefore, what? Two things: wear this world lightly. It doesn’t mean disdain it or hate it. It means don’t cling to it.
Don’t think it’s going to make you happy because it’s just like one of those, you know, those um cottonwood seeds that float through the air, and if you try to grab it, the very act of grabbing will push it away from you. So, if you grasp at this world, it will turn to dust in your fingers. Appreciate it. Love it. That sunset that George Harrison sings about — look at it. Take it in. Beautiful. Beautiful. Love it. But then let go of it. That’s not your ultimate happiness. The house that you live in, which you’ve labored for — good. Enjoy it. Don’t cling to it.
Those honors that people give you, yeah, they’re nice. Enjoy it, you know, for the moment, and then forget about it. Where should your eyes be fixed? Where should the eyes of your soul be fixed? Again, listen. If you were raised with Christ, seek what is above. Now, what’s above? That means the realm of God. That means the good things of heaven. That means the permanent things following the will of God. That’s where you should have your soul directed.
Remember last week: your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven. Keep yourself aligned. Put your will within the context of God’s will. Keep your heart fixed above. Then you can take in this world with the proper attitude, not clinging to it desperately. No, no. Because you know your treasures are in heaven; your ultimate goal is union with God, and God does not pass away. God does not change. God is not even essence. So fix your heart on God, and then you can let go of this world with the proper attitude. Now, with all that in mind, let’s look briefly at the Gospel. Jesus' great parable. He told them a parable.
There was a rich man whose land produced a bountiful harvest. He asked himself, «What shall I do? I don’t have space to store my harvest.» He’s a guy who’s very successful. We’d say today he’s a private equity investor who’s just made tons and tons of money, and he’s got homes, cars, vacation homes, and all that. What will I do? I know I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones. There I shall store all my grain and all my goods and say to myself, «You have many good things stored up for years to come. Eat, drink, and be merry.» Okay, see, it’s an image of somebody who’s clinging desperately to this world, who’s going to find satisfaction in all the things he possesses. And, you know, I’ll just build a bigger barn, and there’ll be more and more room, and I’ll never run out.
Think of someone-a billionaire. I couldn’t spend all this money in a lifetime. I’ve got everything I need. All things must pass. Listen. But God said to him, «You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you, and the things you have prepared — to whom will they belong?» There it is. Yeah. My whole life has been about storing up all the goods of the world. You’re a man tonight. Tonight, you’re going to die. All of it’s gone. All will fall into someone else’s hands, someone that you don’t even know, maybe. Listen now. Thus it will be for all who store up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God.
Now, let’s get down to brass tacks as I close. What matters to God? Love. God is love, right? Heaven is the place where love abounds radically. That’s what heaven means. What lasts? I’ll quote Cardinal George again here: the only things we take with us into heaven are the things we’ve given away on earth. He doesn’t mean, like, «Okay, if I give away all these cars and houses, then I’ll have them in heaven.» What he means is it’s that attitude of giving away; that’s the substance of heaven. There are three things that last, right? St. Paul said, and that’s what we want. All things must pass in this world.
Okay, so what lasts? Paul says three things: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love. Why? Because in heaven, I don’t need faith; I’ll see. I don’t need hope because I’ve realized my goal. But what will last? Love. Love is what heaven is. So look up George Harrison’s song, listen to it, read the book of Ecclesiastes-they’re making the same point. Then say, «All right, so what lasts? Love. The things of heaven. What is above? Not what’s here on earth.» Keep the eyes of your soul fixed there, and you’ll find the treasure you’re looking for. And God bless you.