Easiest

Job 23; Mark 10:17-31
October 11, 2009


The children haven’t left. Jesus is still surrounded by the little children who were being brought so that he might touch them. When you get down to it, there is very little mention of age in the New Testament and Gospels. Lots of it, of course, in those Old Testament genealogies making certain that you know how long so-and-so lived. But in the Gospels, about the only people given an age are young children, 12 years old usually, although Luke hints that Jesus is about 30. Considering the much shorter life span in that era, that would make him at least middle-aged. By today’s standards the disciples who circulated with Jesus were decidedly young adults.

When this bucolic scene of Jesus and the children is interrupted it is by someone we seldom hear enter the pages of the Gospel - a young adult, probably no older than his young 20’s and maybe still only a teenager. A university-aged person being rare in this religious environment? Maybe some things never change.

This rich young man is usually treated pretty roughly in the pulpit and Sunday Schools as someone too pompous and just too filthy rich to be capable of a genuine faith. The majority of sermons on this story this morning will still portray the rich young man as the bad guy, instead of being pretty much like you and me.

Yet, as accomplished as he will claim to be, this young man had to figure he had something still to learn, something he had not done. He admitted as much that he was incomplete, though he was clueless as to what that could be, so thorough was he in fulfilling the requirements and duties of the Law. He does not saunter up to Jesus with an air of dignity and importance, but runs to him and throws himself down at Jesus’ feet - neither a pompous nor a graceful move.

He asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Who asks that kind of question anyway? Either one trying to impress others with his theological language, or one for whom this is the only thing that matters. Like many of us here, this young man was sincere and had the right idea, but he had been going about it the wrong way.

Jesus feels the awkwardness of his question, but plays it really straight. Responding to that title, “Good Teacher,” Jesus challenges him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” No need to butter me up. But there are a couple other angles Mark probably had in mind. No one is good but God is a subtle point that all goodness comes out of God; nothing we are or do is good except as it reflects our relationship with God. Or maybe the hint was that Jesus is God, and therefore is good in and of himself.

Jesus plays it straight, “You know the commandments.” He lists the familiar ones, even adding, “Do not defraud” - not one of the Ten Commandments, but certainly the same spirit. The young man barely lets Jesus finish, “All these I have observed from when I was a boy.” He thought he had met the requirements, had earned his way into heaven, although he had used the right language, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” After all, heirs to an estate do nothing to earn it. Not that perturbed, Jesus looks at him and loves him for what he was trying to be. Only one thing are you really lacking - go, sell what you have, give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me. His treasure was back at his house and he turned for home, his face fallen. Jesus, who loved him, must have had his face fall too.

Turning to his disciples, Jesus says the unbelievably obvious - it’s hard to enter the kingdom of God with wealth. The disciples were so open-mouthed, Jesus said it again with emphasis and hyperbole. “Children,” he begins, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God. It’s easier for the camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.

Then who can be saved? The disciples thought the rich young man was asking their question, and now wonder out loud whether Jesus is making any sense at all. There’s this camel and needle image - I don’t buy any explaining away about some narrow gate in the town wall - Jesus intended to be ridiculous to nix the ridiculous idea that one can buy a stairway to heaven. We never seem to get the point, always harbouring the hope that we can earn or buy eternal life, when in God’s reality we inherit it as children.

Peter says what is on everyone else’s mind, “We have left everything and followed you. We have become poor, isn’t that enough?” Peter knew it wasn’t just about money, being poor wasn’t enough. If you think being poor will buy your stairway to heaven, then you are not going to be an heir of the kingdom.

This must have been a pretty trying exchange of ideas for Jesus. The young man was knocking at the wrong door and the disciples wanted to just keep knocking harder at the same door. Again, Jesus plays it straight with Peter, “No one who has left everything for my sake and for the Gospel will not receive a hundred-fold now in this time.” He lists a bunch of benefits: houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and lands - exactly what they had given up, plus persecutions, and finally eternal life. Sounds good until you get to the persecution part. Comes with the territory.

Isn’t the way it’s supposed to work that if you have a relationship with Jesus all your problems will be taken away? It seems from today’s conversations that Jesus is going to give you problems you didn’t think you had and never thought you earned.

Clarence Jordan, translator of The Cotton Patch Version once visited an integrated congregation in the Deep South. Jordan was surprised to find a relatively large church so thoroughly integrated, not only black and white but also rich and poor; and this was in the early sixties, too.  Jordan asked the old country preacher, “How did you get the church this way?” “What way?” the preacher asked.  Jordan went on to explain his surprise at finding a church so integrated, and in the South, too. 

The preacher said, “Well, when our preacher left our small church, I went to the deacons and said, ‘I’ll be the preacher.’  The first Sunday as preacher, I opened the book and read, ‘As many of you as has been baptized into Jesus has put on Jesus and there is no longer any Jews or Greeks, slaves or free, males or females, because you all is one in Jesus.’ Then I closed the book and I said, ‘If you are one with Jesus, you are one with all kind of folks.  And if you ain't, well, you ain’t.’”

Jordan asked what happened after that. “Well,” the preacher said, “the deacons took me into the back room and they told me they didn’t want to hear that kind of preaching no more.”  Jordan asked what he did then. “I fired them deacons,” the preacher roared. “Then what happened?” asked Jordan. 

“Well,” said the old hillbilly preacher, “I preached that church down to four.  Not long after that, it started growing.  And it grew.  And I found out that revival sometimes don’t mean bringin’ people in but gettin’ people out that don’t dare to love Jesus.”

A university chaplain (William Willimon) was holding a Bible study one night in a dorm and they read through this rich young man story, finally asking them what they thought about it.

“Had Jesus ever met this man before?” asked one of the students.  “Why do you ask?” I asked. “Because Jesus seems to have lots of faith in him.  He demands something risky, radical of him.  I wonder if Jesus knew this man had a gift for risky, radical response.  In my experience, a professor only demands the best from students that the professor thinks are the smartest, best students.  I wonder what there was about this man that made Jesus have so much faith he could really be a disciple.”

Another student said thoughtfully, “I wish Jesus would ask something like this of me.  My parents totally control my life just because they are paying all my bills.  And I complain about them calling the shots, but I am so tied to all this stuff I don’t think I could ever break free.  But maybe Jesus thinks otherwise.”

It’s the otherwise that is still on the table for the rich young man - maybe he did come back, we never know - and still for you and me.


Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan