20th Sunday
after Pentecost, Yr. B, October 14, 2012
Amos 5:6-7,10-15; Psalm
90:12-17; Hebrews 4:12-16; Mark 10:17-31
Sermon preached at St.
Stephen’s Episcopal Church
I’ve been here long enough
that this is my second time preaching on this passage from Mark. Most of us are pretty well acquainted
with the story of the “rich young man”.
A wealthy young man comes to Jesus, and asks what must I do to inherit
eternal life?” Jesus responds by
telling him what was surely obvious to a faithful Jew, “follow the
commandments.” Jesus even spells
them out to him. The young man
replies, “I have kept all these since my youth.” Who remembers?
How does Jesus respond? He
says, “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have
treasure in heaven.” Isn’t that
what we remember? That’s what I
usually remember … but that’s not all that’s there
I tend to forget two
important parts of that story as told in the gospel of Mark. After the young man tells Jesus that he
has kept all the commandments, we are told that Jesus is looking at him. We might think that’s a given. Don’t we look at people when they’re talking
to us? Sure, if we’re talking one
on one, but this young man ran up and knelt in front of Jesus. He posed his question in front of the
disciples traveling with him. His
compliment at the beginning, “Good teacher” would have been perceived as threatening
in Jesus’ time. Akin to saying
something like, “You think you’re so good”, in a snide voice As if the one being addressed
already thought too much of himself.
So Jesus, appropriately displays humility. He questions and rejects the compliment indicating that true
goodness is found in God alone.
So this conversation
begins as a public display. It
starts as a challenge to Jesus’ authority, even though we might like to read it
as the story of a nice young man approaching a local wisdom teacher for sage
advice. We have to wonder if that
was really the case. Was Jesus
thinking that this young man was another set up sent by the Pharisees to catch
Jesus misspeaking so as to discredit him?
If that were the case, and I were Jesus, I’d really be looking at the
disciples, at those gathered around … because the conversation would have been
for their benefit, not the young man’s.
He would have been defending his honor in front of his followers and an
onlookers.
But Jesus is looking at
the young man. Jesus is
acknowledging him. Jesus listens
as the young man responds to the challenge. “I have kept all these since my youth”, he says, and Jesus loved him. This young man, for whatever reason had
just basically insulted Jesus, and now Jesus is looking at him with the eyes of
love. What must that have been
like for him? Can you remember a
time when you met the eyes of love in an unexpected moment?
When I was a chaplain at
Strong I was paged to the bedside of a woman in her eighties. She was on a respirator and if she was
going to survive she would need a feeding tube. Her two adults daughters were there with her, and the
doctor. When I walked in, the
daughters met me. They were trying to tell the doctor that their mother didn’t
want the feeding tube. They had
agreed to the respirator for a trial period, to see if things would improve.
That period was over. Nothing had
changed. They were sure that their
mother would not want more medical interventions, that she would prefer to die
peacefully. I told the daughters
that I was glad they had spoken with their mother prior to this, so that they
knew what her wishes were. As hard
as it might be for them, at least they could be sure that they were doing what
she wanted. Oh yes, they said. She told us. But I was still missing something. “We know”, they said, “because she awake … but she can’t talk
because of the respirator”.
I was used to coming into
situations where doctors were going to remove life support from someone who was
really long past hope of recovery.
Too often family members hang on until every last bit of medical hope
has been played out. But this
time, the patient was calling the shots from her bed. I turned around and looked at her. I walked to the bedside of a small gray haired woman, and I
looked into her eyes. They were a
sparkling bright blue, totally alert.
I talked to her a little
bit about her medical condition.
She responded with facial expressions and blinks. Her eyes right on mine. I asked if she understood that refusing
the feeding tube meant that her body would not be able to get the nutrition it
needed? She blinked yes. I asked if she understood that taking
out the breathing tube meant that she would die. Yes. Is that
what you want, to die? Yes, she
blinked. Your daughters will make
the arrangements. I assured her
that she would be comfortable, that her family would have time to come and be
with her. There was no rush. A small tear ran out of the corner of
her eye. I’m sure that tear was a
small sign of her sadness and loss, maybe even of fear. But I think it also contained an
element of thankfulness and relief, because her eyes … when I looked in them …
were full of love.
Were those the eyes that
Jesus saw? Eyes that longed for
God? Jesus must have realized that
what the young man was saying was true.
He had kept all the commandments,
and yet the man knew that there was something more to be had. Just following the commandments wasn’t
all there was. There was
more. Jesus looked at
him, and loved him, eyes of love connecting
unexpectantly.
You lack one thing; Jesus said, go, sell what you own, and give
the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. I
have always considered that Jesus was speaking literally here, about money and
material riches. Mark’s gospel is
pretty straightforward in the Greek.
I’m still not convinced that’s the case, but the commentary I read this
week suggests another interpretation, perhaps a deeper one. Because what Jesus ends with is an
invitation, then come, and follow me. The essentials of life in
first century Palestine were family and friends, relationships that provided
for life … food, shelter, clothing.
If the rich young man were to give away all he has, and go to follow Jesus, he would be distancing himself
from survival. It was like
committing social suicide. It’s no
wonder that he is shocked and goes away grieving. Following Jesus meant not only giving up possessions, but
giving up relationships that would enable a person to rebuild his life.
What the disciples had
done was a radical thing. And they
know it! That’s why they’re so
upset. They HAVE given up
everything. What Jesus offers to
them and to us, is a new vision of community. The Christian community is one that is supposed to act for
one another. If people were
willing to give up their lives and follow the way, they could be assured of a
new community that would care for them, that would act like blood relatives
acted. They would be sisters and
brothers in Christ. What they gave
up willingly God would replace with the gospel community.
Lake Avenue Baptist Church
has been a welcoming faith community for a growing number of Burmese refugees
in the Maplewood neighborhood.
Recently one of the Burmese died and the church did the funeral. Not just the service, but the whole
thing. They paid four or five
thousand dollars for the funeral home, the burial, the burial plot …
everything. Several weeks later,
two of the leaders of the Burmese community showed up at the church office with
a briefcase. It was filled with
cash. They had enough to pay back
the church for all the expenses.
The pastor there said this has happened three or four times. Where did the money come from? The Burmese. They all chipped in whatever they could as they could, and
when they had enough, they repaid the kindness they had been shown. They gave for one another. They are refugees, sisters and brothers
in faith, connected because of their situation and their choices. That’s the kind of Christian community
I think Jesus had in mind when he called Simon and John, Nathaniel, and
Bartholomew and all the others, when he calls us.
Do not be afraid, there is
enough for all in this abundant world we have been given. When we recognize that our deepest
desire is to connect with unconditional love, other desires pale in comparison. Loving eyes are all around us in
unexpected places. We just need to
be open to seeing them, and responding. God’s eyes of love are always looking longingly for us
… because sharing that holy communion is God’s greatest hope for us.
Amen.
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