Sermon for 21st Sunday after Pentecost – Mark 10:17-31

NOTE – This was a “conversational” sermon where I was trying to be more interactive….

Lately we’ve had a lot of controversial gospel readings. Last week it was divorce. The week before it was chopping off our hands or feet or plucking out our eye if it causes us to sin. Today we’ve got another one that makes folks nervous. Jesus says, “Sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and you’ll have treasure in heaven.”

Does this sound like gospel? [DISCUSS]

I mean, it’s not very practical. If you give everything away in one shot, it’s pretty hard to care for your neighbor. It’s hard to keep a job if you don’t have a car to get there, especially in Indianapolis. Social services are already strained without adding ourselves to the roll. We live in a broken world with folks who have no advocates, so what’s Jesus trying to do here? Let’s take a closer look.

Jesus is setting out on a journey. All of a sudden, some rich guy runs up and says “Good Teacher, what do I need to do to inherit eternal life?” Now, that’s surprising! When do rich folks ever run to Jesus? They don’t. Usually Jesus is the last person they want to deal with, or they just want to play games with him. So he must be pretty desperate. It makes me think of how bad I have to feel before I go to the doctor, because I know they’re going to tell me to do something that I don’t want to do. And it’s interesting how the first thing he says is “Good Teacher”. Like he’s not sure if Jesus will help him, so he’s got to butter up Jesus. And then he basically asks Jesus how to be saved, so evidently, he doesn’t think he is, because otherwise he wouldn’t need to ask.

So, why do you think this guy is so insecure? [DISCUSS]

Now, at first Jesus is pretty annoyed. “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” Jesus doesn’t have time for flattery. But he’s also annoyed by the question. “What do I have to do to inherit eternal life?” What makes that question odd? [DISCUSS – GIFT VS WAGE] This guy wants to know what he has to do to earn salvation, which kind of means that if Jesus never existed, it wouldn’t make a difference. So Jesus is like, “What are you asking me for? You already know the commandments.” Which isn’t really an answer. It’s accusation. So of course the guy says, “but Teacher, I’ve kept all those.” He has no choice but to justify himself.

So, do you think the rich guy was telling the truth? [DISCUSS — Now, we can’t read this guy’s mind. Maybe he’s lying, because you know how those rich people are, until they get caught. Or maybe he’s telling the truth, because he follows the letter of the law, but that’s how you get a priest and a Levite leaving the guy in the ditch to be found by a good Samaritan.]

Here’s the thing. What if it doesn’t matter? Because Jesus looked at him and loved him. And grace means Jesus isn’t going to force anything on him. Jesus just gives him what he’s asking for. Not forgiveness, but one more commandment. “Sell everything you have and give the money to the poor.” He’s shocked. All he can do is walk away in grief and emptiness.

In a lot of ways he reminds me of Mother Theresa. She totally turned Jesus’ words into action. She gave everything she had to serve the poor and dying in Calcutta for decades. She spent her life trying to spread the good news of Jesus’ love for the outcast. But what no one found out until after she died, was what she confessed in private. “Jesus has a very special love for you, but for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great. I look and don’t see. I listen and don’t hear.” For most of her life and for all of her obedience, she felt totally forsaken by God. It makes you wonder if her smiles were just for show. What can account for this?

I think it’s because she and the rich guy and we all share the same problem. We’re convinced that if we could just be better, do better, that maybe God would love us. That’s why this passage makes us so nervous, because deep down we feel Jesus commanding us too. And we fear he means exactly what he says because we know we just don’t have the will. How many times do we see a beggar and we mitigate. Are they going to buy food or drugs? Are they really homeless? What about the experts who tell us to give to agencies instead? Or we give and feel guilty we’re enabling. Either way, we’re not really worried about them. We’re worried about what God thinks of us. And that kind of anxiety will kill you.

But you know who knows a thing or two about that? Jesus does. Remember how he was setting out on a journey? We know exactly where he’s going. He’s going to the cross, to take the weight of our anxiety and fear upon his own body, and he lets them crush him. Because Jesus knows we’re trapped, and he loves us too much to let that be the last word for you or for me. And after three days, he rises in the glory of his resurrection, because he’s determined that the commandment will be fulfilled. He gives us the most valuable thing of all – his forgiveness. He gives everything he has, for everyone who needs it. He doesn’t have to, but he wants to. And this is our inheritance by his love.

Because of what Jesus has given us, we know the difference between gift and obligation. Forced giving goes off the rails. It’s like when monks used to sell their goods at the lowest price because they thought profit was a sin. It’s great for consumers but puts everyone else out of business. It’s like when pious and wealthy Christians with a guilt complex make huge donations to the church and cause all kinds of money battles. Forced giving is this arbitrary thing that doesn’t really care about the neighbor, and that doesn’t feed the soul.

True giving is radically different. It’s when faith turns us to the neighbor in love. When they tell us what we need and we listen to them. They’re not charity targets. They’re folks with names and stories who deserve to be seen. And faith makes us want to. Of course, things still go wrong. Sometimes they lie. Sometimes we enable. But we get to trust that God really is reconciling all things, and we get to let go. Does that mean giving everything? I don’t know. But I bet your neighbor does.

But what about the poor rich guy? What do you think happened to him? Mark doesn’t say. But Mark also loves open endings. Maybe he just got more tight-fisted. Maybe he gave up trying to keep the law. But what if he was in the crowd at the foot of the cross? What if he was the young man sitting at the empty tomb? The one who proclaimed the resurrection to the women who came to anoint Jesus’ body? What if our only hope is that this is the God of open endings? Because God isn’t done with us. Thanks be to God.