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| 19 Pentecost October 15, 2006 The Rev. Robert C. Granfeldt |
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Well known and interesting lessons we have again, today. And unpleasant lessons
we have, as well, in which Jesus dispels some of our favorite illusions—ideas we
love to hold onto, to foster, even to live by; but ideas that have little or nothing at all
to do with either the Scriptures or the faith. Ideas about wealth and poverty and
goodness.
A few weeks ago, we heard that Jesus and his disciples, having made one final swing
around the Galilee, teaching and preaching and healing, had arrived at his base in
Capernaum for a brief respite before his final trek toward Jerusalem. At the time of
this morning’s Gospel reading from St. Mark, Jesus has now begun that final journey,
traveling from Capernaum toward Jerusalem and the destiny that awaits him at
Calvary.
As he is setting out on another day’s travel, he is approached by a wealthy young man
of Israel, and Jesus is uncharacteristically abrupt with him. One gets the feeling that,
aware of the great danger awaiting him at his destination, Jerusalem, he has little
desire to deal with the superficial concerns of the idle rich – as Jesus clearly
considers him.
The young man approaches Jesus. “Good teacher,” he says, “what must I do to
inherit eternal life?”
Jesus snaps at him! “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone!”, and
proceeds to answer his question as if he were just another “spoiled rich kid”. “You
know the commandments; don’t murder; don’t commit adultery; don’t steal or bear
false witness, or defraud people; and honor your father and your mother.”
Conventional advice to a conventional Jew asking a conventional question. “How do
you get into heaven? Be good. Now go away and don’t bother me.” That, essentially,
is what Jesus was telling him, in this answer.
But that’s not good enough for the young man. He wants more.
He knows that the conventional answer and the conventional wisdom are not what it’
s all about. He knows that “being good,” while it may fulfill the conventional
requirements, is not what God wants from us.
The young man already leads a “good life.” He already fulfills the commandments to
the best of his ability; already does his best to fulfill the law. But he’s NOT, as Jesus
seems to think at first, a “conventionally” religious young man. He knows there is
more to real religion than what he’s already done. He knows there is more he could
be doing, more he should be doing. All this he tells Jesus.
And Jesus sees that he was wrong. Sees that this is, indeed, a special young person
– one who really does WANT to follow his God, and he’s come honestly seeking.
And Mark tells us that Jesus, “looking at him, loved him.”
“Jesus, looking at him, loved him.”
That has always seemed to me one of the most beautiful – but saddest – lines in all of
scripture.
Jesus, distracted and abrupt and even testy, is moved by this young man’s story, his
desire to know his god’s will, and to follow it. But he also knows the futility of the
young man’s desire. He knows exactly what this young man must do; exactly what the
Father calls this young man to do. And he knows there is no way this young man,
earnest and sincere as he may be, is going to be able to do it. But he is moved by this
“lost soul,” and it’s so sad.
And now, unlike the prophet Amos, in our first lesson, so willing to condemn the rich
out-of-hand for their treatment of the poor, Jesus speaks with compassion to the
young man, as he tells him the truth. “You lack one thing,” he says; “go, sell what you
own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then
come, follow me.”
And the young man goes away, head hanging. In sadness. He can’t do it. That’s asking
too much. That requires an understanding beyond his experience. So, shocked and
grieving, he goes away.
That young man Was sincere in his seeking – which is why Jesus responded with
love and compassion – but he didn’t know what he was asking. He expected Jesus to
tell him what other “things” he could do; how he might fulfill the commandments
even better than he had, all his life, how he might be “more good,” than he had been.
But Jesus shocks him with the news that it’s not ABOUT, “being good.” Anyone can
be conventionally good – so what? But No One can be Really good. No one is Truly
“good,” but God, Jesus clearly tells the young man, and you can’t match Him, so don’t
try.
You’re not called to be “good,” Jesus was telling him. You’re called to be HOLY, and
that’s quite a different thing.
How must I go about that? Simple, says our Lord, with, I would imagine, tears in his
eyes: just sell all that you have, and give the money to the poor. Do that, and you’ll
find the Kingdom.
And then, once you’re free, come and follow me.
Oh, and there’s that word again, that little word that is SO important in our faith and in
life, yet SO hard to take. It just keeps popping up and popping up, and how often I’ve
spoken to you about it!
Free. Once you’re free, come and follow me.
You see, it wasn’t that the young man wasn’t trying. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the
right idea, the right intensions, the right hopes, the right desires.
It was that he wasn’t free! Wasn’t free to “lay up for (himself) treasure in heaven!”;
wasn’t free to follow his Lord!
He was tied to his property! Fettered by his belongings. Enslaved by his riches.
Attached to the things of this life.
So what’s wrong with property, belongings, riches, things? Nothing. Not a thing. It’s
being attached to them that’s the problem. It’s being enslaved by those attachments
that’s the problem. It’s not being free that’s the problem.
Jesus told the young man what he needed to do. And the young man couldn’t do it.
He Couldn’t do it! So he hung his head as he walked away from Jesus – but he walked
away, nevertheless!
He couldn’t free himself from the myriad things that held his attention, his allegiance,
his concern, his love. He couldn’t free himself from the myriad things that kept him
from going where his God would have him go, becoming who his God would have him
become, living the life his God would have him live, loving who God was calling him
to love.
And, as usual, in Scripture, the young man is us – he’s you and he’s me; he’s all of us,
and he’s each of us.
We are all held captive by the things we’re attached to: our wealth, the things our
wealth buys. (All the time, of course, insisting to ourselves that WE are not wealthy,
actually. Just plain folks; middle class, working folk, not rich at all; conveniently
ignoring the fact that the very poorest among us has more “things”, has a better
income, enjoys more security than something in excess of 95 percent of all the
people who have ever lived… that we are all among the richest people the world has
ever known! And because we are among the world’s richest, we even have the
leisure time, the education, the luxury of being attached to more than most people
have ever dreamed of having – attached not only to possessions but to ideas,
causes, habits, people, movements, vocations, avocations, hobbies, television
programs, or anything else in the world we can think of that we can in any way
become “attached” to.)
And our Lord makes the same suggestion to each of us that he made to the rich
young man, issues the same call. The call to set ourselves free from the things that
claim us.
Goodness is not what we are called to, but holiness; which is why I make one small
change in the words of the Book of Common Prayer. It’s in the Eucharist, at the
Absolution, where the Celebrant is to pray God to “strengthen (us) in all goodness,”
which I change to “all holiness”, because goodness is simply not what it’s all about!
And holiness is neither a measure of, nor measured by, what we do, how well we
behave, whether we’re “good” or not, but a matter of who we are and who we are
becoming. Goodness may follow holiness; it is not a prerequisite of it. The only
prerequisite to holiness is the same freedom from attachment to the things of our
lives as our Lord called for from the young man.
The young man, Mark tells us, walked away from Jesus, walked away from the
invitation to “follow me.” Does that mean the young man was lost forever? Does it
mean he was relegated to perdition? The story doesn’t say. It may turn out that the
young man will, someday, grow into the kind of person who can do as Jesus tells him
– may find his freedom; but we’ll never know!
But what we do know is that Jesus loved the young man. We may be content wisely to
leave the young man’s fate to the love of the Christ, realizing that most of us will
choose – do choose – the same option. We will and we do cling to the things of our
life, the things IN our life that we love; we choose them over the Christ, just as the
young man did. Are we lost? Well, God loves us – Christ loves us – as he loved the
young man. And, with Jesus telling us that “all things are possible with God,” I for one
have no doubt that God’s love will win out, in the end.
But what our Lord offered the young man in our story was “a more excellent way” –
the way of holiness, the way of walking in God’s love.
He offers that same way to us. We may make the same choice the young man made –
but we should know, as we do it – each day that we do it – that we are walking away
from that still more excellent way – the way of Christ. The way of holiness.
In his Name. Amen.
we have, as well, in which Jesus dispels some of our favorite illusions—ideas we
love to hold onto, to foster, even to live by; but ideas that have little or nothing at all
to do with either the Scriptures or the faith. Ideas about wealth and poverty and
goodness.
A few weeks ago, we heard that Jesus and his disciples, having made one final swing
around the Galilee, teaching and preaching and healing, had arrived at his base in
Capernaum for a brief respite before his final trek toward Jerusalem. At the time of
this morning’s Gospel reading from St. Mark, Jesus has now begun that final journey,
traveling from Capernaum toward Jerusalem and the destiny that awaits him at
Calvary.
As he is setting out on another day’s travel, he is approached by a wealthy young man
of Israel, and Jesus is uncharacteristically abrupt with him. One gets the feeling that,
aware of the great danger awaiting him at his destination, Jerusalem, he has little
desire to deal with the superficial concerns of the idle rich – as Jesus clearly
considers him.
The young man approaches Jesus. “Good teacher,” he says, “what must I do to
inherit eternal life?”
Jesus snaps at him! “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone!”, and
proceeds to answer his question as if he were just another “spoiled rich kid”. “You
know the commandments; don’t murder; don’t commit adultery; don’t steal or bear
false witness, or defraud people; and honor your father and your mother.”
Conventional advice to a conventional Jew asking a conventional question. “How do
you get into heaven? Be good. Now go away and don’t bother me.” That, essentially,
is what Jesus was telling him, in this answer.
But that’s not good enough for the young man. He wants more.
He knows that the conventional answer and the conventional wisdom are not what it’
s all about. He knows that “being good,” while it may fulfill the conventional
requirements, is not what God wants from us.
The young man already leads a “good life.” He already fulfills the commandments to
the best of his ability; already does his best to fulfill the law. But he’s NOT, as Jesus
seems to think at first, a “conventionally” religious young man. He knows there is
more to real religion than what he’s already done. He knows there is more he could
be doing, more he should be doing. All this he tells Jesus.
And Jesus sees that he was wrong. Sees that this is, indeed, a special young person
– one who really does WANT to follow his God, and he’s come honestly seeking.
And Mark tells us that Jesus, “looking at him, loved him.”
“Jesus, looking at him, loved him.”
That has always seemed to me one of the most beautiful – but saddest – lines in all of
scripture.
Jesus, distracted and abrupt and even testy, is moved by this young man’s story, his
desire to know his god’s will, and to follow it. But he also knows the futility of the
young man’s desire. He knows exactly what this young man must do; exactly what the
Father calls this young man to do. And he knows there is no way this young man,
earnest and sincere as he may be, is going to be able to do it. But he is moved by this
“lost soul,” and it’s so sad.
And now, unlike the prophet Amos, in our first lesson, so willing to condemn the rich
out-of-hand for their treatment of the poor, Jesus speaks with compassion to the
young man, as he tells him the truth. “You lack one thing,” he says; “go, sell what you
own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then
come, follow me.”
And the young man goes away, head hanging. In sadness. He can’t do it. That’s asking
too much. That requires an understanding beyond his experience. So, shocked and
grieving, he goes away.
That young man Was sincere in his seeking – which is why Jesus responded with
love and compassion – but he didn’t know what he was asking. He expected Jesus to
tell him what other “things” he could do; how he might fulfill the commandments
even better than he had, all his life, how he might be “more good,” than he had been.
But Jesus shocks him with the news that it’s not ABOUT, “being good.” Anyone can
be conventionally good – so what? But No One can be Really good. No one is Truly
“good,” but God, Jesus clearly tells the young man, and you can’t match Him, so don’t
try.
You’re not called to be “good,” Jesus was telling him. You’re called to be HOLY, and
that’s quite a different thing.
How must I go about that? Simple, says our Lord, with, I would imagine, tears in his
eyes: just sell all that you have, and give the money to the poor. Do that, and you’ll
find the Kingdom.
And then, once you’re free, come and follow me.
Oh, and there’s that word again, that little word that is SO important in our faith and in
life, yet SO hard to take. It just keeps popping up and popping up, and how often I’ve
spoken to you about it!
Free. Once you’re free, come and follow me.
You see, it wasn’t that the young man wasn’t trying. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the
right idea, the right intensions, the right hopes, the right desires.
It was that he wasn’t free! Wasn’t free to “lay up for (himself) treasure in heaven!”;
wasn’t free to follow his Lord!
He was tied to his property! Fettered by his belongings. Enslaved by his riches.
Attached to the things of this life.
So what’s wrong with property, belongings, riches, things? Nothing. Not a thing. It’s
being attached to them that’s the problem. It’s being enslaved by those attachments
that’s the problem. It’s not being free that’s the problem.
Jesus told the young man what he needed to do. And the young man couldn’t do it.
He Couldn’t do it! So he hung his head as he walked away from Jesus – but he walked
away, nevertheless!
He couldn’t free himself from the myriad things that held his attention, his allegiance,
his concern, his love. He couldn’t free himself from the myriad things that kept him
from going where his God would have him go, becoming who his God would have him
become, living the life his God would have him live, loving who God was calling him
to love.
And, as usual, in Scripture, the young man is us – he’s you and he’s me; he’s all of us,
and he’s each of us.
We are all held captive by the things we’re attached to: our wealth, the things our
wealth buys. (All the time, of course, insisting to ourselves that WE are not wealthy,
actually. Just plain folks; middle class, working folk, not rich at all; conveniently
ignoring the fact that the very poorest among us has more “things”, has a better
income, enjoys more security than something in excess of 95 percent of all the
people who have ever lived… that we are all among the richest people the world has
ever known! And because we are among the world’s richest, we even have the
leisure time, the education, the luxury of being attached to more than most people
have ever dreamed of having – attached not only to possessions but to ideas,
causes, habits, people, movements, vocations, avocations, hobbies, television
programs, or anything else in the world we can think of that we can in any way
become “attached” to.)
And our Lord makes the same suggestion to each of us that he made to the rich
young man, issues the same call. The call to set ourselves free from the things that
claim us.
Goodness is not what we are called to, but holiness; which is why I make one small
change in the words of the Book of Common Prayer. It’s in the Eucharist, at the
Absolution, where the Celebrant is to pray God to “strengthen (us) in all goodness,”
which I change to “all holiness”, because goodness is simply not what it’s all about!
And holiness is neither a measure of, nor measured by, what we do, how well we
behave, whether we’re “good” or not, but a matter of who we are and who we are
becoming. Goodness may follow holiness; it is not a prerequisite of it. The only
prerequisite to holiness is the same freedom from attachment to the things of our
lives as our Lord called for from the young man.
The young man, Mark tells us, walked away from Jesus, walked away from the
invitation to “follow me.” Does that mean the young man was lost forever? Does it
mean he was relegated to perdition? The story doesn’t say. It may turn out that the
young man will, someday, grow into the kind of person who can do as Jesus tells him
– may find his freedom; but we’ll never know!
But what we do know is that Jesus loved the young man. We may be content wisely to
leave the young man’s fate to the love of the Christ, realizing that most of us will
choose – do choose – the same option. We will and we do cling to the things of our
life, the things IN our life that we love; we choose them over the Christ, just as the
young man did. Are we lost? Well, God loves us – Christ loves us – as he loved the
young man. And, with Jesus telling us that “all things are possible with God,” I for one
have no doubt that God’s love will win out, in the end.
But what our Lord offered the young man in our story was “a more excellent way” –
the way of holiness, the way of walking in God’s love.
He offers that same way to us. We may make the same choice the young man made –
but we should know, as we do it – each day that we do it – that we are walking away
from that still more excellent way – the way of Christ. The way of holiness.
In his Name. Amen.
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| Calvary Episcopal Church, Rockdale |
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