As Jesus was setting out on a journey,
a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him,
“Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal
life?”
Jesus said to him,
“Why do you call me good?
No one is good but God alone.
You know the commandments:
‘You shall not murder;
You shall not commit adultery;
You shall not steal;
You shall not bear false witness;
You shall not defraud;
Honor your father and mother.’”
The man said to Jesus,
“Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”
Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said,
“You lack one thing; go, sell what you own,
and give the money to the poor,
and you will have treasure in heaven;
then come, follow me.”
When the man heard this,
he was shocked and went away grieving,
for he had many possessions.
SERMON (Rev. Katy Nicole)
I wonder how the man asked the
question, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Did he
ask it in way that conveyed he already knew the answer? That the checklist of
not to murder, not to commit adultery, not to steal or slander, had been
accomplished since his youth. Did he say it with pride and that was why Jesus
looking at him loved him and said, “You lack one thing.” Is that why when the
man heard this he was shocked and went away grieving, had he thought he had
done enough. Had he thought he followed every rule, and then realized he had
forgotten the golden one.
Or perhaps, did the man ask the
question, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Did he
ask it in a way that was scared of what the answer might be. Was it one of
those answers that deep down he knew. Did he merely have to look around his
house, and then look outside to see the discrepancy between the haves and the
have nots? Was it something that had been nudging him, and now, in the moment
with the Good Teacher, compelled him? Was he not at all surprised to be told,
“go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor,” was his grief instead
the shock of being told exactly what he didn’t want to hear?
Today? years later, the scripture asks us the same question,
and I wonder if we are surprised. Having kept those commandments quite well,
did we think we have lived a good life and believed we are righteous by our
merit alone? Did we try to alter the text, and say such things as, “I think it
speaking of priorities,” and therefore excuse ourselves from the radical nature
of giving away for all we have worked? Or do we get it, and are shocked at the
new checklist of all we have to give away. If we were to line up everything we
own in front of our door, how long would the line stretch, and would this be
the first time we have looked at its conglomeration, it’s rich excess? Would be
shocked, or do we already know what’s there?
Are you like me, does this scripture come as no surprise, is
its presence routine like a ever present reminder of the still more there is to
do? When there is that extra little something in our shopping bag does it also
bring guilt as it pulled out and placed among the myriad of other things? Do we
hear Jesus’ admonition and walk away sulking because though we kept the bigger
commandments, this most pervasive one has snuck in as a new this, or just a
little that. Are we to scared to line up our belongings outside our door
because we already know the shame of having too much when others have so
little. Likewise if we lined out our time, our calendar, do we spend it seeking
the treasures on earth, or is it lived in the treasures of heaven of the action
of the golden rule?
I am not sure which one each of you are, if you hear this
scripture and are shocked by its radical charge, or if you are constantly
reminded to reassess. Either way, the charge is humanly impossible, and we get
lost from where to start and cannot imagine where to end. The scripture doesn’t
tell us what the man does, if he goes home and begins, or never starts, and if
he starts, to whom he begin to give, and how long does he keep on giving? Jesus
didn’t tell him how, or how long. Instead he looked on him with love, and I imagine
him looking upon us the same, that standing beside our hoarding lines of stuff
stretching down the street from our front door, he looks on us with love, and
asks us to come follow him, to leave those treasures. And I wonder if I could
do it, if I could walk away from everything I own, for all my years of
accumulation, and walk on down ninth
street and follow him. But I will tell you, the
times Jesus has looked on me with love, I would. I would do it for the
frivouslness of joy, for the spontaneousness of laughter, for the depth of
thankfulness, for the satisfaction of justice, for the encompassing of love. He
has looked at us with love, and with it our shock or reminder, he is saying
follow. It is ours now, to tell the beginning of how we shed our earthly
treasures, and of the treasures we have found in following him. The treasure of
being looked upon with love. Which story will we tell?