Sermon by Pastor Seth - September 2, 2026

Congregational Response

What makes the rich man in this parable so foolish?

• Materially rich, morally poor
• Thinking only of himself and his future
• He misses the bigger picture
• Obsession with wealth as projected insecurity
• Fear of scarcity
• Mixed up priorities

Theological Reflection

Born into slavery in Kentucky in 1802, Henry Boyd lived life with splinters in calloused hands. Apprenticed out to a carpenter when he was a boy, intimately acquainted with a sweat drenched back from a hard day’s work, Boyd had a gift for building and design — utilizing the skills he acquired to eventually purchase his freedom. He would move from Kentucky to Cincinnati at the age of 24 in hopes of finding his footing. Initially met with discrimination despite living in the free state of Ohio, he worked multiple jobs to survive as a Black man in 19th century America, including working as a janitor at a carpentry store.

As the story goes, the store owner contracted a carpenter to install a counter. When the carpenter showed up too intoxicated to work, Boyd stepped in and completed the job skillfully. Impressed by his work, the store owner hired Boyd for more projects and, through word of mouth, Boyd’s reputation spread. He was hired for more and more side jobs in addition to his work at the store, eventually able to save enough money to purchase freedom for his brother and sister along with his very own woodworking shop.

As a carpenter, Boyd was most well known for the “Boyd Bedstead” — an innovative bed frame that did not require the use of heavy bolts. Attempting to secure the rights to his design, he enlisted the help of a white man named George Porter who filed for a patent on his behalf — a reality indicative of the long history of prejudice towards and minimization of Black innovation in America.

According to law professor and patent attorney, Shontavia Johnson, despite race-specific language not being part the Patent and Copyright Clause of the Constitution, which was the basis for the federal patent system we have today, Black Americans born into slavery were still excluded. Not considered citizens, enslaved individuals had no rights to their intellectual property in the eyes of the law — exploited for their forced labor by white masters who often took credit for the inventions of the human beings under their whip. Even freed persons, though, such as Henry Boyd, struggled against the dark cloud of discrimination — leading him to the decision to have a sympathetic white man ensure the rights to his design.

Despite his shop being burned down three separate times, Boyd would go on to be a prolific employer and run a very successful furniture business. More than a carpenter, he was integrally involved in the Underground Railroad as well — providing refuge for escaped slaves in a secret room in his house and even building special cabinetry and chests to hide folks on their journey to freedom. The racist landscape of America was no match for Boyd’s skill and empathy, joining a long line of Black innovators who continue to fight for recognition to this day and who utilize their gifts for the liberation of others. I wonder if Boyd and other Black inventors historically disregarded by society would see themselves in this parable Jesus shares with the crowd — relating not to the foolish rich man but to all of the characters explicitly not mentioned.

Looking out upon the date palms and wheat fields from the second story balcony of his villa, silken robes trailing behind him, the rich man sees the stalks for dollar signs as a product of his business prowess and ticket to a life of luxury. Privy to his inner monologue in the parable of Luke 12, we read: “What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops? I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods.” I, I, I, I, I — the use of first person singular is pronounced. Never mind the farm hands who actually planted the crops. Never mind the carpenters and masons who actually built the original barns or the ones who will demolish them and build the larger ones. Never mind the day laborers who actually transport and store the grains. The laborers who do the actual laboring go unrecognized, glossed over by the rich man’s disregard for those perceived “under” him.

He believes, either consciously or subconsciously, that the wealth he has accrued from the hard work of his hired servants entitles him to take the credit all for himself — thinking only of his excessive financial security. There is no mention of family or community, no mention of workers or gratitude, certainly no mention of God. He prioritizes profit over people to the point that the people who made the profit possible become insignificant to him in his own inner narrative. His obsession with hoarding wealth leading to the isolation of his soul behind the illusion of self sufficiency — a dangerous lens that sees the world, including its people, as mere objects to possess for personal gain. It sounds familiar.

We live in a country where the richest 1% of our population own nearly 32% of the nation’s total wealth as of 2026. If we bump that number up to the richest 10%, that percentage jumps to 68% of all American wealth. Just a few months ago, the United States was home to the world’s first trillionaire even if only for a brief time — an unfathomable number to reckon with for the vast majority of us. With close to 1000 billionaires in the United States, a consolidation of riches complete with extensive tax cuts and lobbying power, the machine of capitalism idolizes these figures as economic gods — pushing the American dream that if you work hard enough, you too can be rich and powerful. But we forget all the work of those who have gone unrecognized, who have been exploited and taken advantage of, the work of those who made it possible for these individuals to be carried up atop the gilded pedestal of profit to begin with.

There is no ethical way to accumulate and sustain this level of wealth. It is always built upon the backs of those scraping by to survive — who endure inhumane work conditions and the silencing threat of deportation; the bulldozers of development and corporate contamination of watersheds; who endure the theft of physical and intellectual property and the capitalization of health and wellness; unfair wages and taxation to prop up the untaxed minuscule few; let alone those enslaved whose blood, sweat, and anonymity are soaked in the soil and stone of the very foundation of this country. We idolize profit but forget the cost in people.

Friends, may we pray and advocate for a world in which everyone has what they need. May we vote for and work towards a world where labor is recognized with equity and those with excess do not isolate themselves behind piles of treasure but answer the call to be rich towards God — measured not by how much we accumulate but how much we give away and utilize what we have been given to pursue liberation for all. While money can certainly buy survival and comfort, of which we are each equally deserving, it cannot buy love — for love is not a transaction or a mutual fund but a willingness to hold and be held in mutual vulnerability, to see and be seen not as some objectified means to some end but as the very reflection of Divinity.

There are no billionaires in the Kingdom of God — for it is community, not commodity, by which Love reigns.

Sources:

https://theconversation.com/americas-always-had-black-inventors-even-when-the-patent-system-explicitly-excluded-them-72619

https://arrowmont.org/black-history-month-wood-artist-spotlight-henry-boyd/