Worry and Idolatry
Out at the prison we were discussing the "do not worry" passage from the Sermon on the Mount:
“Therefore I tell you: Don’t worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Isn’t life more than food and the body more than clothing? Consider the birds of the sky: They don’t sow or reap or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth more than they? Can any of you add one moment to his life span by worrying? And why do you worry about clothes? Observe how the wildflowers of the field grow: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these. If that’s how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and thrown into the furnace tomorrow, won’t he do much more for you—you of little faith? So don’t worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you. Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
This can be a difficult text to preach and teach. We live in an "age of anxiety." Young people are described as the "anxious generation." Anxiety on the rise and everywhere you look. Which makes Jesus' message extremely relevant but also hard to hear. To say to people "do not worry" can sound like you are disregarding people's experiences. Plus, simple religious exhortations are deemed inadequate for treating stubborn mental health issues. Lastly, a moralizing and judgmental attitude can show up if worry and anxiety are described as failures of faith and trust.
We discussed all this out at the unit, how to talk about worry and anxiety in a complicated mental health context. And beyond mental health issues, worry and anxiety are just natural human emotions. So, how are we to think and talk about Jesus' teachings about worry and anxiety?
I was struck by the word "Therefore" at the start of the passage. Which indicates that the "do not worry" exhortations are flowing out of something preliminary and prior.
Backing up, then, here's the passage that comes right before:
“Don’t store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don’t break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
“The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. So if the light within you is darkness, how deep is that darkness!
“No one can serve two masters, since either he will hate one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money."
"Don't store up for yourselves treasures on earth. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. You cannot serve both God and money. Therefore, do not worry." That's how the argument runs. The exhortations about worry and anxiety are connected to concerns about idolatry, serving money rather than God. As additional evidence for this connection, toward the end of the worry passage Jesus says "seek first the kingdom of God."
Stepping back, it seems to me that Jesus' concerns about worry and anxiety are not about worry and anxiety per se. Jesus' broader concern is how worshipping and idolizing money--seeking treasures on earth rather than treasures in heaven--tip our hearts into anxiety and worry. As Jesus says, where our treasure is there will our heart be. Or, where our treasure is there will our worry be.
To be sure, Jesus' message is still hard for our culture to listen to. But framing his concerns as being about idolatry and less about emotions gives us a richer picture. We shouldn't shame people for feeling how they feel. Nor is it productive to tell people to stop feeling what they are feeling. But we can step back to assess and diagnosis how we've structured our hearts, where we've placed our confidence and trust, and how these investments are affecting us emotionally. That's a productive and much needed conversation.
Slavery to the fear of death, Dr Beck. When we can locate our identity in God's glorious grace, loving kindness and promises kept (and so much else!) on the cross, we can be released from worry, anxiety, the fear of all the forms of "death" this world has to offer, and free to love our brothers and sisters as well as our enemies. I learned that in a book somewhere....
**Title: The Weight of Empty Treasures**
Yvon Roustan ©
The bars are cold, but colder still
the coins we clutch in trembling hands—
they click like keys to hollow vaults,
their echoes map our prison’s lands.
The sparrow lands on rusted chains,
its song a psalm we strain to hear.
It feeds on crumbs the wind has strewn,
while we count bread in folds of fear.
The lilies wear no warden’s stripes,
their gold unspun by fretful looms.
Their roots drink deep a hidden stream
that pools beyond our vaulted rooms.
We thread our days through needles’ eyes,
obsessed with moths that gnaw our coats.
The light we hoard turns thick as pitch,
a blindness garbed in banker’s notes.
Two masters carve our hearts in halves:
one pours the wine, the other thirst.
Our prayers, like receipts, fill the air—
the god we serve exacts the first.
The barns we build for phantom grain
cast shadows where the soul once stood.
Each rusted hinge, each splintered board,
confesses rot beneath the wood.
The watchman scans the night for thieves,
yet dawn still breaks, unasked, unseen.
The field’s slow bloom outlives our haste,
its clockwork set to evergreen.
We mend the nets but miss the sea,
knot worry into every strand.
The tide still rolls its silver tongues—
it needs no wage to kiss the sand.
The kingdom’s gate swings on no hinge,
no coin can catch its latch or lock.
We kneel to dig in dirt for gems
and find our palms around a rock.
But here, where chains confess their rust,
the sparrow’s hymn rewrites our vows.
We lay our treasures in the dirt—
the earth grows warm beneath the plough.
*************^******************
**Explanation:**
**Stanza 1:** Opens with the juxtaposition of physical imprisonment and the metaphorical prison of materialism. “Coins” symbolize misplaced trust in wealth, their hollow sound reflecting spiritual emptiness. The “vaults” and “prison’s lands” suggest self-imposed confinement through greed.
**Stanza 2:** Contrasts human anxiety with the sparrow’s innate trust in providence. The bird’s song, a natural “psalm,” highlights divine care, while “bread counted in folds of fear” critiques scarcity mindset.
**Stanza 3:** Lilies embody unforced flourishing, opposing human labor driven by anxiety. “Warden’s stripes” metaphorically link societal control to self-imposed rigidity, while “hidden stream” signifies grace beyond material reach.
**Stanza 4:** Needle’s eye references Jesus’ teaching on wealth. “Moths” and “light turned pitch” illustrate how materialism corrupts vision, equating financial obsession with spiritual blindness.
**Stanza 5:** Divided loyalty between God and wealth fractures the self. “Prayers like receipts” reduce spirituality to transactional exchanges, critiquing performative faith.
**Stanza 6:** “Barns for phantom grain” symbolize futile accumulation. Rot beneath “splintered board” reveals the decay inherent in hoarding, contrasting with enduring spiritual wealth.
**Stanza 7:** The watchman’s futile vigilance contrasts with dawn’s unstoppable arrival. Nature’s “evergreen clockwork” underscores trust in cyclical, divine provision over human control.
**Stanza 8:** Fishing nets mended but unused symbolize preoccupation with preparation over living. The tide’s “silver tongues” represent grace’s persistence without human effort.
**Stanza 9:** The kingdom’s gate, inaccessible through wealth, critiques transactional spirituality. “Digging for gems” only to find rocks mirrors the folly of misplaced pursuit.
**Stanza 10:** Conclusion in liberation through surrender. “Chains confess their rust” signifies decay of materialism. Laying treasures down parallels biblical sowing, implying spiritual harvest. The “plough” symbolizes active, faith-driven release from anxiety.
The poem interweaves biblical imagery with modern materialism, framing anxiety as a symptom of misplaced devotion. It avoids moralizing, instead inviting reflection on how “treasures” shape emotional landscapes.