Sermon delivered by the Rev. Dr.
The Rev. Dr.
Mark 10:17-27
Now, when it comes to this story, we Christians have a special knack for dodging what Jesus really says. This dodging has three varieties. Jesus didn’t say it, or he didn’t say it for us, or he only says it to be helpful. The first dodge – Jesus didn’t say it – has been popular since scholars in the ninth century claimed an error crept into this text. It’s not really a camel through the eye of a needle, but a cable through a boat cleat or a camel through a very tiny gateway…hard, but not impossible. The second dodge – Jesus didn’t say it for us – happens when we keep a safe distance from the rich man in the story. In a society whose wealth exceeds any level ever attained in human history, we impute to this fellow an impurity and insincerity that makes him entirely unlike us. The third dodge – Jesus only says it to be helpful – is the cleverest of all, flavoring these bitter morsels to be palatable…but it usually doesn’t work. Out of love, Jesus shamed a devout man for his wealth and drove him away from God, and this good news will therefore somehow make us less greedy and more faithful?
How refreshing it might be to hear these words for what they actually say. Of course, that’s not so easy. It’s far less fun to realize Jesus is not telling a riddle, not condemning the rich, not giving a pep talk on charitable giving. He is instead on a road trip, headed somewhere in particular, with one relentless message: follow. He’s on a multi-city concert tour, calling and installing, putting folks in their place as disciples. Installing disciples? Suddenly this is a story that’s all about us. My fear, though, is that Jesus’ appeal is shrinking with every passing step. Who wants to be installed to such an office? Discipleship? Following someone to the exclusion of every other seductive option that beckons our allegiance? Giving yourself over to others for the sake of their life in a world that rewards only narcissism? Orienting your every fiber to God’s claim instead of the powers that so easily colonize us? Jesus must have been crazy to think people would want to do that. Forget about how hard it will be for the rich to enter the kingdom. The camel would have an easier time with the needle than some Christians have with foregoing the Sunday New York Times. Discipleship! What was he thinking?
Just at this point in our cynical despair, though, a rich man comes on stage today, a model disciple if ever there was one…and I’m not joking. Frankly, I am not so bugged by the way Jesus puts him in his place about selling possessions, giving to the poor, or gaining heavenly treasure. That stuff is so far beyond my horizon I can’t even picture living that way, so it’s easy to keep remote and abstract. What worries me is not what Jesus has to say, but the kind of guy this rich fellow already is. Unlike every other person who approached Jesus in the last few chapters of Mark, this man wants nothing from him: no healing, no help, not even a religious debate. What’s more, he comes to Jesus on his knees, in reverence and humility uncharacteristic for one of his rank. His quest is beyond the mundane chores that clog our lives, for he wants to know lasting life, God’s ways and those alone. And as his story unfolds, we learn that he’s actually been entirely obedient to God’s commands and instructions, an achievement Jesus never disputes. This man is frightening in his goodness and purity, and I’m not even worthy to stand at the threshold of his life. My life stands under judgment compared to his, and I suspect I am not the only one here for whom that’s true, regardless the office of ministry to which you’re called.
Oh sure, you say, he’s all that, but what about his wealth, his possessions? Out of guilt and the discomfort our guilt creates, we are quick to condemn the rich man today. That view would make little sense to those who first heard this story. The man is not portrayed as being wealthy at the expense of others. Instead, he likely played the role of a benefactor who cared for many other people out of his abundance. Religiously, his wealth was not shameful but a sign of divine favor. God blessed him and called him to greater duties. We don’t like rich people out of our jealousy, knowing we will never have what they do. But in Jesus’ day, the wealthy at their best were gifts to
So we’re back to discipleship – whether we want to follow, and more disturbingly, whether we even can. Who can be Jesus’ disciple if not the rich man? He kept every command – I can barely remember them. And we’re also back to installation – whether we will accept our place or prefer a ministry of our own design. Not even the rich man could occupy the place Jesus had prepared for him. He was possessed by things that defined his identity – but are we so much better? Consider whatever you hold most dear: your intellect, your skills, your creativity, your family, your dignity, your dreams. Whatever it is, could you completely let it go in order to follow? Who can serve to that degree? How would you ever begin?
Maybe it starts with just walking – but not ours. Walking…that’s what Jesus was doing when the rich man approached. He was headed out the door, going somewhere in particular and calling others to follow. Now, don’t get me wrong. No one can go where Jesus is ultimately headed. For us humans, frail and enslaved, all of our obedience and duty, our sacrifice and giving will not attain that destination. Only one is installed to that office. The stinging news is that, left to ourselves, we cannot follow God’s ways or serve as God wills. But Jesus ventures onto a road where we grow weary, where hope runs dry. He shows the obedience none of us can muster. He bears the treasure none of us can earn. He gives lasting life none of us can sustain. It is far beyond us, but not him. Through him, despite our weakness and wavering, true discipleship begins. Bit by bit, we learn to release what binds us so tightly. Day by day, we grow in the freedom to be put in our place. And then, step by step, we may even follow where God would have us go.