| Scriptures: | Hebrews 4:12-16 Mark 10:17-31 |
OK, c’mon, it’s fess up time. At least for those of you of (ahem) a “certain age” (say, born before 1960), when you first saw The Exorcist (it was released in 1973) weren’t you scared sh—uh, to death. I mean, when Linda Blair’s head spun around and that green goo spewed out of her mouth. I tell you, I don’t frighten easily at the movies, but William Friedkin really did a number on us, didn’t he? Now, of course, after multiple Friday the 13ths and Halloweens and all the other rip-off horror flicks that came after it The Exorcist looks pretty tame and in some ways downright laughable (there was even a send-up of the scene where Max von Sydow as the priest comes to the house with his back turned to us in a recent episode of the TV show Monk). But at the time…..phew! We were being asked to experience – to feel – what it is like to have a demon inside you. To be possessed by a demonic force.
It wasn’t only scary, it was downright unsettling. Not to be in control – not to be able to exert your will over what is going on around you – not to have a sense of your own self. What must it be like to be so possessed by something that your soul is no longer your own?
That’s a bit like the experience of this rich man had who came to Jesus. Let’s set the stage for this familiar story. This passage in the 10th chapter of Mark follows immediately after the one we talked about last week where Jesus welcomes the little children and rebukes his disciples for trying to keep them away from him. So, the story of the rich man is set in the context of Jesus’ universalism – seeking to bring everyone into the kingdom of his God. He sets out on a journey, and immediately he is interrupted by the rich man with what is a fundamental question for the gospels: “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (By the way, since the Bible doesn’t give this man a name, why don’t we arbitrarily give him one so we don’t have to keep referring to him as “the rich man” – how about “David” – good Biblical name, that.)
Couple of things to notice right off the bat about the way David phrases the question and Jesus’ immediate response: “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” – not earn it, but have it given to me as an inheritance. Already Mark is setting us up to think in terms of mercy and grace and gift rather than a works-righteousness approach. And Jesus’ response is, at least initially, in harmony with David’s thrust – Jesus wants him to focus on God and God’s gifts rather than on the one who is offering them: “’Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.’”
But then Jesus’ insight brings him to realize that there’s something more going on here; David is troubled, probably even sick deep in his soul – the kind of soul-sickness that Soren Kierkegaard spoke of as a “sickness unto death”. So he goes through the litany of what the commandments require – what any good practicing Jew of the time would do practically in their sleep – and gets David’s assurances that all this has been done. And then Jesus comes to this amazing, shocking conclusion: “’go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then follow me.’” Note the emphasis: do all this first before you become one of my followers.
Shocking. It still jolts us hearing it 21 centuries later. What kind of a prescription is this as a way to cure what ails you and to become a follower of the Christ?
Remember the context. Jesus’ mission on earth is to help everyone he encounters find their way to the kingdom of God (at the very beginning of Mark’s gospel, you’ll recall, since we’ve preached about this before, is the core message: “’The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’”) Jesus is seeking to lead David to repentance so that he might believe in the good news.
And David is grieved by what he hears. Not so much because he had great possessions – although he did – but because of what they meant to him. Candace Chellew-Hodge, associate pastor at Garden of Grace UCC in Columbia, South Carolina, pins the problem of this rich man precisely:
“The rich man who approaches Jesus in this passage is sick and in need of healing. He is possessed – not by a conventional demon – but by his wealth. He does not own his possessions; his possessions own him. Jesus is offering him redemption – healing – from his sickness of greed. “
He is possessed by his possessions. Just like the effect of the demon on Linda Blair in The Exorcist David is not in control, he does not have a full sense of his own self, his soul is no longer his own.
I want to share with you the story that Candace Chellew-Hodge tells to set up this insight, because it’s a homey way to begin to understand how one can become possessed by possessions. She relates:
“When I was a child I refused to travel without my music. At the risk of dating myself, this was in a time before MP3 players. It was even before the time of the Sony Walkman and mix tapes. So, to bring my music with me whenever my family traveled meant taking my favorite albums (yes, albums – no CDs in this alternate universe) with me. I would gently pack them all up in doubled up paper grocery bags. Usually, I could cull the collection to one big bag, but sometimes it required two, depending on the length of the trip.
“I could not go without them. My parents would often complain about my need, nay my obsession, with bringing along my prized record collection, but no amount of pleading or even outlawing them from the car worked. The albums accompanied me everywhere I went. I was possessed. I could not survive, even a few days, without my albums. It wasn’t even so much about being able to play the albums – although all my relatives had record players. It was more about simply having them there. There was something about possessing them, about being in their presence that gave me great comfort and joy. Asking me to give them up was like asking me to give up my right arm. How would I function without them?”
This story – especially that line, “Asking me to give them up was like asking me to give up my right arm,” reminds me of Linus and his security blanket. What we possess so often gives us such a sense of security that we are hard-pressed to give that up. The suggestion – no, commandment (remember it was the Ten Commandments, not the Ten Suggestions) to give all you have to the poor pulls that security blanket right out from under us.
I said earlier that this statement of Jesus was shocking then and now. The Revised Standard Version and the New English Bible both translate this word instead of “shocked” as “his face fell” or “his countenance fell” – that is, David was saddened by what he heard. But the NRSV’s “shocked” is much the better word. Shocked is often the beginning of a spiritual transforming. There is in that moment both openness and vulnerability.
There is one key line in this passage that is often overlooked: “Jesus, looking at him, loved him…..” Jesus is not telling David to sell all he has and give to the poor out of vindictiveness or self-righteousness (not that Jesus would ever act on those motivations anyway) but out of his love for him and the hope that he will find a way to turn around (which is what repent means). Paul Wadell puts it this way: “Love is a way of seeing, and those who love us best see us best. In loving the young man, Jesus sees him as he truly is, but in a way that the young man is not yet capable of seeing himself. Jesus wants him to have the life he is looking for, but lets him know that his attachment to what he owns prevents him from seeing and being who he truly is, and thus from finding fullness of life….. Jesus exposes his innermost spirit, reveals what is hidden and shows the young man to himself in a way that he has never known himself before.”
The issue here, then, is not to give everything away and so enter upon a life of poverty ourselves. There are those for whom that is a calling – think Francis of Assisi, or, more contemporaneously, Dorothy Day – but that is not you and me. Jesus' primary call is a call to a life of discipleship, not to a life of poverty. His words “come, follow me” recall other calls to discipleship, and they stem from his love for the man. Jesus calls for more than a change in the man's bottom line and more than a permanent giving up of what he has; what Jesus wants is for David to fundamentally change his relationship to the poor — to help them, to identify with them. And it is this that makes David grieve and become unable to do what Jesus asks. He resists surrendering not only wealth, but also status and power. He resists participating in economic justice and handing power over to his poor beneficiaries. The financial, social, and political costs are too great.
That’s why Jesus continues his teaching to the disciples by saying, “’How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!’” It is not the fact that someone is rich that keeps them from the kingdom but rather their unwillingness to let go of how their possessions are possessing them. Note that he very carefully says, “’How hard…..’” Not impossible. We are given the tools, the insights, the spiritual strength to be able to rid ourselves of how our possessions are possessing us.
But it is hard – make no bones about that. Especially in our day and age when we are bombarded on all sides by commercials extolling us to buy – to want – to possess that car, that breakfast cereal, that iPod, that Wii game which will make us happier – and (even more importantly) will give us a sense of security. And so along with the spiritual struggles that Jesus introduces us to in order to live a life of discipleship we have piled on the additional distractions of a commercial society.
There’s one other aspect to this story – although I must admit it is rather speculative. There is nothing in the text itself to indicate that David did not eventually sell all he had, give to the poor, and come, follow Jesus. It merely says, “he…went away grieving…..” Perhaps, in the days that followed, David re-thought his position, just as we might re-think our own lives, and listening to that call to come, follow Jesus he discovered the joy that such self-giving offers.
We do know that it is a joy. The generous outpouring of clothing and food to assist the people of Samoa, American Samoa, and the Philippines that came into the church office following last Saturday’s extraordinary service came with a real sense of joy that such offerings could be made even in the midst of the tragedy of a tsunami and an earthquake. No, none of us sold everything we had in order to give to these people who were in need. But we gave of ourselves in the spirit that Jesus intended when he saw into the heart of the rich man, of David, and tenderly, lovingly told him what he must do in order to then come, follow him.
The book of Hebrews has a very elevated concept of Jesus as a “high priest”, but in the passage that we read this morning that author relates this royal model to the tender, loving approach that we have seen Jesus take to our rich man: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin.” Like “the word of God” that is “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword” Jesus’ response penetrates to the very heart of the rich man. He may be a high priest who appears to us with the full authority of that office, but so much more importantly Jesus is one who sees us for who we are and lovingly wants of us that we turn our lives around.
We often quote too glibly at the time of the offering the Bible verse, “Where your treasure is there will your heart be also”. But this story from Mark and the passage from the book of Hebrews make it clear how central this insight is to Jesus’ call to discipleship. In many ways today’s sermon could be considered a stewardship sermon (and maybe I’ll just bring it out and preach it again on November 8 – but in the meantime you can use this as a springboard to be thinking about stewardship, which we’ll be concentrating on in four weeks).
The key to interpreting this whole story from Mark is found in that last line: “and the last will be first”. This is the thrust that Mark has been giving Jesus throughout his gospel – the paradox that as we give our lives away we will find them. This is the meaning behind “repent and believe in the good news.” This is what Jesus is offering to David if only he can get beyond his grief to see. Let us hope that somewhere in the back story of the gospel the rich man does move beyond sadness and shock and discover that he is no longer possessed by his possessions. And let us hope that for ourselves as well.
Amen.
Dave Pomeroy
First Congregational Church/United Church of Christ
Las Vegas, NV
October 11, 2009