Mark 10:17-31
As he 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.' " He said to him, "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 he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions. Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, "How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!" And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, "Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God." They were greatly astounded and said to one another, "Then who can be saved?" Jesus looked at them and said, "For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible." Peter began to say to him, "Look, we have left everything and followed you." Jesus said, "Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first."
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In a June 2017 op-ed entitled “Stop Pretending You’re Not Rich,” Richard Reeves, born and raised in England, reflects on wealth and class in America. With a bit of self-conscious humor, he writes,
I always found the class consciousness of Britain depressing. It is one of the reasons we brought our British-born sons to America. Here, class is quaint, something to observe in wonder through imported TV shows like “Downton Abbey” or “The Crown.”
So imagine my horror at discovering that the United States is more calcified by class than Britain, especially toward the top. The big difference is that most of the people on the highest rung in America are in denial about their privilege. The American myth of meritocracy allows them to attribute their position to their brilliance and diligence, rather than to luck or a rigged system. At least posh people in England have the decency to feel guilty.
He continues by talking about the ways that we tend to downplay our wealth (because we can always find someone who is wealthier), and the way that we cling to the narrative that our wealth and successes are a product of our own hard work, even if that’s not always true.
Do what you will with his premise or his conclusions, but what struck me the most was his insight about our human tendency to believe that we can receive or achieve anything we want if we just do the right things.
This is what struck me the most about the young man in today’s gospel. He approaches Jesus, in all sincerity, with the inquiry, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Tell me what to do, Jesus.
This young man has been faithful. He has kept the laws. He makes a point, even, of including in his list of accomplishments his faithfulness to the law, “you shall not defraud,” meaning that he has probably come by his wealth honestly, or at least as honestly as anyone can ever acquire wealth in an ancient world where wealth usually comes at the expense or exploitation of the poor.
In the eyes of the world - and in the eyes of the disciples, too! - this young man has everything he could ever want or need. He is faithful and so he is blessed. He has done everything right.
But now Jesus is on the scene, and he’s talking about new things, like the kingdom of God, and eternal life and abundant life. The young man is curious. He is interested. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” he asks. “Tell me what I must do to be a part of it all.”
Jesus, we read, “loves him,” and out of this love gives him a two-part answer.
First, he advises him to go and sell his possessions, and to give the proceeds to the poor.
Then, he invites him into the life of discipleship, saying, “come, follow me.”
(For those of you keeping count, one of those things is something you “do.” The other is the thing that actually will bring eternal life. And I might argue that it is the second thing that makes the first thing even remotely possible.)
The young man goes away shocked and grieving.
His first grief, I think, is being told that you need to give up the things that are dear to you. As Sarah Hinlicky Wilson puts it, “This one dearly, uniquely loved person...walks away, ‘disheartened’ and ‘sorrowful’ [because] how terribly shocking [it is] to discover that, after all, you love your stuff more than you love eternal life.”
But I think that the young man’s grief runs deeper than this. Because even if it’s hard, selling all his stuff is something he can do.
The invitation to live into God’s grace and to follow Jesus, however, is not something he - or anyone! - can do, like a one-time task that you check off your to-do list. Following Jesus is ongoing. And it is not about “doing.” It is about being transformed. And I think the young man grieves, because this is not what he expected.
Eternal life is not something you can accomplish. It is impossible for you to acquire. It is God’s possibility and gift, and it is something that, when you receive it, changes you for life.
We so often go about life with a "tell me what I must do" mentality - the way that we think accomplishing a certain set of checkboxes will get us what we want in our relationships, our careers, our finances, even our faith. Like, we do the calculations in our heads: “If I make it to worship x many times in a three month span, that feels like I’m doing enough to show that I’m a faithful person.” Or, “If I post a Bible verse on Facebook every once in a while, then Jesus will know I'm living out my faith.” Or, “If I just vote a certain way and put the right bumper stickers on my car, then Jesus will know that I care.”
The young man grieves because Jesus tells him that the gift of eternal life will fundamentally change his life, here and now. Like, really change his life. And that sort of change is hard. Because it isn’t about behavior. It is about who he is, about the very orientation of his heart and soul.
When we accept the gift of God’s grace and the invitation to follow Jesus, our very hearts will change. Our hard hearts will soften. Our selfish hearts will incline toward the needs of others. Our arrogant hearts will incline toward humility. Our self-righteous hearts will incline toward compassion. Our stingy hearts will incline toward generosity. Our resentful hearts will incline toward forgiveness. Our angry hearts will incline toward peace. Our cynical hearts will incline toward hope. Our anxious hearts will cling to resurrection.
I mean, it’s the best news of all good news out there that God is gracious to us, merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, reaching past all boundaries - even death itself - to call us children, and not just children, but beloved children. Children who God loves, just like Jesus loved that rich young man.
But also, this is heavy stuff, right? I mean…God looks upon you with favor and love. That is infinitely huge. Like, God loves you so hard that your heart starts to beat a little differently, and you feel yourself drawn to a new reality, because this love and this grace are so big and intense that you need to share those things with the world, because otherwise you might just burst. And once you’re headed down this path, things start to get a little complicated, because you are changing from the inside out, and you don’t look quite like what the world or your parents or your friends want you to, and - wait a minute! - what exactly did you sign up for anyway?
No wonder Peter jumps into the conversation, alarmed. “We’ve already left everything behind to follow you! How much more is ahead of us that you haven’t told us yet?”
Jesus will respond again to the disciples with words of death and resurrection. Of suffering and redemption. He will tell again the story that transformation sometimes looks like death to the world and rejection to his followers, but that God is binding all of this up for good, for newness, for salvation.
The gift and promise of eternal life transforms us. It makes of us new creations.
We don’t just act like we are following Jesus into the kingdom of God. We become the kingdom of God, for the sake of the world.
We don’t hear the rest of the young man’s story. We can wonder what happened to him as he wandered back home in his grief. We can wonder if this encounter with Jesus was but the start of a journey of transformation. We can conjure up funny images of camels and needles. We can ask nervous questions, like the disciples.
But at the end of it all, the one thing we know is that from our human limitations and impossibilities, God can draw out infinite things. It’s not about what you do. It’s about who God is.
This is the life to which Jesus invites you, whether the notion brings you grief or brings you joy. Jesus says freely to each of us, “follow me.” Won’t you come along?
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