Reading the gospel story set for this Sunday, I’m struck by a verb the man uses in his question to Jesus. He asks, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Inheritances, by definition, are received, not earned. One can work at being disinherited, but generally we inherit by virtue of being in a given relationship to one who leaves a legacy.
Jesus offers the man a relationship. He tells him how to disencumber himself of resources that he’s relying on and really make himself free to receive the gifts of discipleship, and then to come and enter into the relationship. The man is unable to accept, and goes away grieving.
Those folks who have already taken Jesus up on that offer are flabbergasted at the conclusion Jesus draws from this encounter, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” “Then who can be saved?,” they ask, suddenly anxious about their own positions. Peter reminds Jesus of all that they have left behind to be with him – and how does Jesus respond? By telling them about the blessings they will receive now and the inheritance to come:
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.’
Taking on God-Life has pay-offs in this life - and in the fullness of eternity we really reap the blessings.
Jesus tells us that the way to come into that fullness is to let go of our temporal sources of security and follow him. And if this seems impossible, as impossible as a camel squeezing through the eye of a needle (and no, there was no narrow gate in Jerusalem – Jesus is being hyperbolic to make a point, as this article sent by my sister suggests…), Jesus reminds us that it is indeed impossible for us, though not for God. This God who desires to spend eternity with us will draw us in as we allow ourselves to be tethered. We're the camels in this scenario!
Can we part with our fortunes more readily if we really trust the inheritance that will be ours when none of our things and bank accounts matter anymore? Paul tells us in Ephesians that legacy is already ours, present in the power of the Spirit working through us. The Spirit is the down-payment, and we can start spending right now.
And the thing about spending that capital? It makes us less attached to the kind in our bank accounts. The more Spirit-power we spend, the freer we get. That’s the legacy of relationship with Jesus, and it never ends.
10-8-15 - No Easy Way In
Very little shocks us these days. Sex, violence, prejudice, outrageous discourse, are all commonplace. But start talking about money and how wealth is distributed, you might get a reaction.
It wasn’t so different in Jesus’ day. When Jesus told the man who came to him seeking eternal life that he should sell everything he owned, give the proceeds to the poor, and then follow him, he went away shocked. And so so did Jesus’ disciples who watched this encounter unfold.
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.’
Were they shocked that he let such a promising recruit go away? Or that he would say such a thing about the wealthy? In that culture (as in ours…) prosperity was a sign of God’s blessing and favor. How could that be an impediment to full participation in the life of God?
This gives us pause as well, wealthy as we are. Have we examined the ways in which our wealth and worldly security stands in the way of our putting all our trust in Christ’s grace and love (which Episcopalians promise to do in our baptismal vows…)? Often we respond to the discomfort we feel encountering these words of Jesus by trying to give our way to feeling okay. "Yeah, but, look at how much I give away..." That ain’t a bad thing… but I sense it’s not what Jesus is talking about. I suspect his concern is what the accumulation does for and to us.
Thankfully, this greatly challenging passage ends with a reminder of grace:
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.’
For God all things are possible – which we experience as we let go and trust God and the power of the Spirit working in, around and through us. Let’s start there, and see how love might loosen our grip.
It wasn’t so different in Jesus’ day. When Jesus told the man who came to him seeking eternal life that he should sell everything he owned, give the proceeds to the poor, and then follow him, he went away shocked. And so so did Jesus’ disciples who watched this encounter unfold.
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.’
Were they shocked that he let such a promising recruit go away? Or that he would say such a thing about the wealthy? In that culture (as in ours…) prosperity was a sign of God’s blessing and favor. How could that be an impediment to full participation in the life of God?
This gives us pause as well, wealthy as we are. Have we examined the ways in which our wealth and worldly security stands in the way of our putting all our trust in Christ’s grace and love (which Episcopalians promise to do in our baptismal vows…)? Often we respond to the discomfort we feel encountering these words of Jesus by trying to give our way to feeling okay. "Yeah, but, look at how much I give away..." That ain’t a bad thing… but I sense it’s not what Jesus is talking about. I suspect his concern is what the accumulation does for and to us.
Thankfully, this greatly challenging passage ends with a reminder of grace:
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.’
For God all things are possible – which we experience as we let go and trust God and the power of the Spirit working in, around and through us. Let’s start there, and see how love might loosen our grip.
10-7-15 - Give It All Away
There is an organizing method sweeping the nation, popularized in the bestseller, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I have not read the book, but I gather one principle at its core is to go through the piles of stuff you may have accumulated – clothes, books, files, games, CDs, electronics, exercise equipment, what have you – and ask, “Does this bring me joy?” If the answer is no, gracefully toss it or help it find a new home. Asking, “Might I ever use this?” (my usual approach...) too often elicits a yes, and leaves us mired in our clutter.
I wonder if this is remotely what Jesus had in mind when he said to the man who came asking how he might inherit eternal life, “‘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.’
Certainly Jesus's suggestion was not so moderate. He said that this man should render himself completely free of possessions – not just by shedding them, but actually selling them and giving the money to the poor. Jesus invited him to be completely unencumbered, totally available to the winds of the Spirit to bless and work through him. And lest we think this is insane, remember that others have done it – St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day we celebrated Sunday, was among the most notable, but many who have entered religious orders, and denominations like the Mennonites, have done the same thing. Is there something about possessions that blocks the flow of God’s life in us?
Does Jesus ask the same of us? Or is this word given only to those who have great wealth and many possessions? Oh, that’s a dangerous tack to take; few of us self-describe as wealthy or think we have enough. But when we compare our standing to that of others, particularly most of the rest of the world (by a rough estimate, the poorest American is wealthier than 85% of the world’s population…), we start to see clearly just how much we have, and how much it may be standing in our way spiritually. It's not the wealth, it's where we put our security that saps our faith.
How do we start to divest ourselves? Can we do it incrementally, or must we tear off this bandaid all at once, as Jesus told the man in our story to do? He was unable to meet that challenge;
When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
I fear I might have gone with him. I’m not ready to tear off the bandaid. But I’m willing to reposition myself relative to my goods and wealth, and move myself to greater readiness. I’m going to start with the things I have too much of, and ask not, “Does this bring me joy?” but “Does God have a use for this?”
I wonder where that will lead me. I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure God has a use for me, and he needs me free.
I wonder if this is remotely what Jesus had in mind when he said to the man who came asking how he might inherit eternal life, “‘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.’
Certainly Jesus's suggestion was not so moderate. He said that this man should render himself completely free of possessions – not just by shedding them, but actually selling them and giving the money to the poor. Jesus invited him to be completely unencumbered, totally available to the winds of the Spirit to bless and work through him. And lest we think this is insane, remember that others have done it – St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day we celebrated Sunday, was among the most notable, but many who have entered religious orders, and denominations like the Mennonites, have done the same thing. Is there something about possessions that blocks the flow of God’s life in us?
Does Jesus ask the same of us? Or is this word given only to those who have great wealth and many possessions? Oh, that’s a dangerous tack to take; few of us self-describe as wealthy or think we have enough. But when we compare our standing to that of others, particularly most of the rest of the world (by a rough estimate, the poorest American is wealthier than 85% of the world’s population…), we start to see clearly just how much we have, and how much it may be standing in our way spiritually. It's not the wealth, it's where we put our security that saps our faith.
How do we start to divest ourselves? Can we do it incrementally, or must we tear off this bandaid all at once, as Jesus told the man in our story to do? He was unable to meet that challenge;
When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
I fear I might have gone with him. I’m not ready to tear off the bandaid. But I’m willing to reposition myself relative to my goods and wealth, and move myself to greater readiness. I’m going to start with the things I have too much of, and ask not, “Does this bring me joy?” but “Does God have a use for this?”
I wonder where that will lead me. I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure God has a use for me, and he needs me free.
10-6-15 - The Look of Love
I admit it. This time, when I read this familiar passage, suddenly a Dionne Warwick song started up in my head. It was that thing about “Jesus looked at him with love” that did it. (Irreverent, these internal soundtracks…) Here we have a man who’s come to Jesus asking “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” After establishing that he knows and keeps the commandments perfectly, Jesus does this:
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.’
The man is shocked and dismayed by this message – as I suspect most of us would be. But it’s not given in a vacuum. It is a message grounded in great love, delivered to this man who is so close to God-Life. If only the love had rung louder for him than the severity of the demand. But all the love in the world cannot redirect us if we cannot let it in, and for whatever reason, that man’s love for his wealth and goods, and maybe the security they afforded him, blocked out the love Jesus directed to him.
What keeps God’s great love from getting in and transforming our interior landscapes? Sometimes it is blocked by alternate messages we’ve received from the world, family, school, careers, or by a self-sufficiency which comes hardwired in members of deeply individualistic cultures. The lure of worldly success and short-term gain can also impede the flow of that love to us.
And what helps us to lower our barriers and let it in when we do? Sometimes it isn’t until we see how short that that short-term gain really is that we’re ready to open ourselves up to something deeper, less immediately accessible. And sometimes it is because someone comes along and insists on loving us despite our barriers. I think Jesus invited that man to part from all his wealth and success and follow him so he could offer him transformative love in relationship. That’s the offer he makes all of us, too – the invitation to follow and draw near, love and be loved in a way that changes us.
It’s hard, when we don’t have Jesus standing right in front of us, right? Or would that make any difference? Maybe Jesus has sent representatives to bear his love to us, and we’re missing the offer.
The gospel writers never tell us what became of this man. Did he reconsider Jesus’ offer and take him up on it at a later time? Did it change his relationship to his wealth and power? I imagine that could only happen were he able to take in the love Jesus offered him in that look. Only that love can change our hearts. Only that love can change the world.
It already has.
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.’
The man is shocked and dismayed by this message – as I suspect most of us would be. But it’s not given in a vacuum. It is a message grounded in great love, delivered to this man who is so close to God-Life. If only the love had rung louder for him than the severity of the demand. But all the love in the world cannot redirect us if we cannot let it in, and for whatever reason, that man’s love for his wealth and goods, and maybe the security they afforded him, blocked out the love Jesus directed to him.
What keeps God’s great love from getting in and transforming our interior landscapes? Sometimes it is blocked by alternate messages we’ve received from the world, family, school, careers, or by a self-sufficiency which comes hardwired in members of deeply individualistic cultures. The lure of worldly success and short-term gain can also impede the flow of that love to us.
And what helps us to lower our barriers and let it in when we do? Sometimes it isn’t until we see how short that that short-term gain really is that we’re ready to open ourselves up to something deeper, less immediately accessible. And sometimes it is because someone comes along and insists on loving us despite our barriers. I think Jesus invited that man to part from all his wealth and success and follow him so he could offer him transformative love in relationship. That’s the offer he makes all of us, too – the invitation to follow and draw near, love and be loved in a way that changes us.
It’s hard, when we don’t have Jesus standing right in front of us, right? Or would that make any difference? Maybe Jesus has sent representatives to bear his love to us, and we’re missing the offer.
The gospel writers never tell us what became of this man. Did he reconsider Jesus’ offer and take him up on it at a later time? Did it change his relationship to his wealth and power? I imagine that could only happen were he able to take in the love Jesus offered him in that look. Only that love can change our hearts. Only that love can change the world.
It already has.
10-5-15 - A Good Person
When I was in elementary school, the SRA reading mastery system was in vogue (I googled… seems to still be around). This was a set of reading materials which children could move through at their own pace. You’d read a selection, answer the questions about it, and if you were correct, move on to the next story. It was a perfect system for over-achievers – a clear path to success and an almost unlimited number of steps to complete.
That’s what the man in this week’s gospel story reminds me of – someone doing the spiritual equivalent of SRA. This was a good and serious man, this fellow who ran up to Jesus. Meticulous in following God’s commandments, humble and faithful, even so he is unsure of his ultimate future. So he comes to find Jesus: 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 asks why he calls him “good teacher,” telling him that only God is truly good. He reminds him of the Commandments – living according to God’s law is the way to prove your goodness. The man assures Jesus he has kept these all his life. Then Jesus adds a twist.
But wait - before we look at that, let’s stop and wonder at this man. He has kept all the commandments his whole life? That’s amazing! What kind of person is this? A person who can say, “I’m a good person,” is both admirable and deeply saddening. Why saddening? Because those who locate their righteousness in their own ability to follow the rules often have more trouble acknowledging their need for God.
There are two approaches to holiness. One is the “SRA,” rung-climbing, rule-following, sometimes teeth-gritting way of “Give me the directions; I can do it myself.” The other is to be clear-eyed about our weaknesses as well as strengths, willing to be repentant and vulnerable, compassionate toward self and others. I would argue that the first approach leaves little room to grow, while the second allows infinite space for maturing in faith and love. There is nothing wrong with “good people.” It’s just that so often those who say “I’m a good person” say it defensively, explaining why they don’t really have anything to do with God or religious life.
Do you know anyone in that category? I don't wish to sound judgmental – I just don’t think it works. It’s like saying, “I’ve arrived. There is nothing more I need.” Now, this man talking to Jesus wasn’t quite that way – he figured there must be something more he needed to do. And that’s the trap for the “good person,” thinking we can “do” our way into the Kingdom of heaven, when Jesus said it is a gift we need to receive. The last thing this man needed was another spiritual task to complete (though Jesus gave him a whopper...). He needed to submit himself to Love.
“I’m a good person,” is a conversation stopper. What do you say to that? “Good for you?” “No, you’re not?” I think the next time someone says that to me, I will smile and say, “Great. Are you a loved person?” That’s what counts.
That’s what the man in this week’s gospel story reminds me of – someone doing the spiritual equivalent of SRA. This was a good and serious man, this fellow who ran up to Jesus. Meticulous in following God’s commandments, humble and faithful, even so he is unsure of his ultimate future. So he comes to find Jesus: 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 asks why he calls him “good teacher,” telling him that only God is truly good. He reminds him of the Commandments – living according to God’s law is the way to prove your goodness. The man assures Jesus he has kept these all his life. Then Jesus adds a twist.
But wait - before we look at that, let’s stop and wonder at this man. He has kept all the commandments his whole life? That’s amazing! What kind of person is this? A person who can say, “I’m a good person,” is both admirable and deeply saddening. Why saddening? Because those who locate their righteousness in their own ability to follow the rules often have more trouble acknowledging their need for God.
There are two approaches to holiness. One is the “SRA,” rung-climbing, rule-following, sometimes teeth-gritting way of “Give me the directions; I can do it myself.” The other is to be clear-eyed about our weaknesses as well as strengths, willing to be repentant and vulnerable, compassionate toward self and others. I would argue that the first approach leaves little room to grow, while the second allows infinite space for maturing in faith and love. There is nothing wrong with “good people.” It’s just that so often those who say “I’m a good person” say it defensively, explaining why they don’t really have anything to do with God or religious life.
Do you know anyone in that category? I don't wish to sound judgmental – I just don’t think it works. It’s like saying, “I’ve arrived. There is nothing more I need.” Now, this man talking to Jesus wasn’t quite that way – he figured there must be something more he needed to do. And that’s the trap for the “good person,” thinking we can “do” our way into the Kingdom of heaven, when Jesus said it is a gift we need to receive. The last thing this man needed was another spiritual task to complete (though Jesus gave him a whopper...). He needed to submit himself to Love.
“I’m a good person,” is a conversation stopper. What do you say to that? “Good for you?” “No, you’re not?” I think the next time someone says that to me, I will smile and say, “Great. Are you a loved person?” That’s what counts.
10-2-15 - Child's Eye View
There are exercises for training care-givers, to help them better understand the experience of given populations. People working with the sight-impaired don light-proof blindfolds and try to get around; people who serve the infirm are told to navigate spaces with canes or wheelchairs.
I don’t know if any such exercises exist to better understand the world as a child experiences it, but I wonder what we’d do to recover that way of seeing. Certainly we’d have to get several feet closer to the floor, and maybe be told to regard every object as a potential plaything, and be encouraged to ask every question that comes to mind.
We need to be able to get back into our “child mind” if we want to be serious about our faith journey, at least according to Jesus: “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”
This comment may well have shocked the serious adults to whom he addressed it. His own disciples had been busy shooing away the children who were crowding around Jesus, and he told them to let the children come. But to go further and say we needed to emulate them if we wanted to enter the kingdom of God – that’s a radical notion.
It means we may need to embrace dependency instead of going it alone. It means we need to be able to believe in things that we cannot see – and even see them, as our faith vision develops. It means we come to expect joy and playfulness, and cultivate our capacity for wonder. It means we ask our questions, and cry when we're sad, and act silly, and sit down for stories that capture our fancy. And we share these good things with each other.
How much of that applies to your experience of church and Christian community? How might we adapt our circumstances to foster this way of being?
I’ve been talking about how we might perceive the Kingdom as children do. But Jesus didn’t say “perceive,” he said “receive.” We must become receptors if we are to truly accept God’s gifts, even God’s calls to action. When action and giving outweigh the receiving, we find ourselves stuck outside the threshold of God-Life, yearning to get in.
That’s kind of where those children were who wanted to get close to Jesus. And here’s what he did: And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
If we come to Him like that, he will offer us no less.
I don’t know if any such exercises exist to better understand the world as a child experiences it, but I wonder what we’d do to recover that way of seeing. Certainly we’d have to get several feet closer to the floor, and maybe be told to regard every object as a potential plaything, and be encouraged to ask every question that comes to mind.
We need to be able to get back into our “child mind” if we want to be serious about our faith journey, at least according to Jesus: “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”
This comment may well have shocked the serious adults to whom he addressed it. His own disciples had been busy shooing away the children who were crowding around Jesus, and he told them to let the children come. But to go further and say we needed to emulate them if we wanted to enter the kingdom of God – that’s a radical notion.
It means we may need to embrace dependency instead of going it alone. It means we need to be able to believe in things that we cannot see – and even see them, as our faith vision develops. It means we come to expect joy and playfulness, and cultivate our capacity for wonder. It means we ask our questions, and cry when we're sad, and act silly, and sit down for stories that capture our fancy. And we share these good things with each other.
How much of that applies to your experience of church and Christian community? How might we adapt our circumstances to foster this way of being?
I’ve been talking about how we might perceive the Kingdom as children do. But Jesus didn’t say “perceive,” he said “receive.” We must become receptors if we are to truly accept God’s gifts, even God’s calls to action. When action and giving outweigh the receiving, we find ourselves stuck outside the threshold of God-Life, yearning to get in.
That’s kind of where those children were who wanted to get close to Jesus. And here’s what he did: And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
If we come to Him like that, he will offer us no less.
10-1-15 - Owners of the Kingdom
The handlers were getting edgy. The candidate was on a tight schedule, with influential people to meet, speeches to give, a movement to advance. There was no time for kissing babies and picking up kids. Security risk, germ risk, not to mention the danger of being upstaged… “Keep the kids away!” they muttered into their walkie-talkies. But the candidate had other ideas:
People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.
I can imagine this is how Jesus’ disciples might be depicted if we updated this story to today. (In fact, I think I heard something like this did happen during Pope Francis’ visit... here is a similar moment, and another from last year here). It does make for great copy – the high and exalted stooping to the lowly and insignificant.
But Jesus was up to something much bigger than a great photo op. He didn’t only say to let the children come – he said that they, in fact, have the highest status of all: to them belongs the Kingdom of God. That makes them owners, these little ones who by law could own nothing, earn nothing, achieve nothing, who were completely dependent upon others. These are the owners of the Kingdom.
What does that say about other insignificant kinds of people? Is Jesus saying the Kingdom also belongs to the destitute, the diseased, the depressed, the disowned - and us, on our worst days? Or is there something peculiar to children that elevates them to this status? Is it in fact their very dependence that makes them so important?
Is Jesus waiting for us to lay down all our products and projects so that our hands are open to receive the whole thing, the fullness of God-Life?
People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.
I can imagine this is how Jesus’ disciples might be depicted if we updated this story to today. (In fact, I think I heard something like this did happen during Pope Francis’ visit... here is a similar moment, and another from last year here). It does make for great copy – the high and exalted stooping to the lowly and insignificant.
But Jesus was up to something much bigger than a great photo op. He didn’t only say to let the children come – he said that they, in fact, have the highest status of all: to them belongs the Kingdom of God. That makes them owners, these little ones who by law could own nothing, earn nothing, achieve nothing, who were completely dependent upon others. These are the owners of the Kingdom.
What does that say about other insignificant kinds of people? Is Jesus saying the Kingdom also belongs to the destitute, the diseased, the depressed, the disowned - and us, on our worst days? Or is there something peculiar to children that elevates them to this status? Is it in fact their very dependence that makes them so important?
Is Jesus waiting for us to lay down all our products and projects so that our hands are open to receive the whole thing, the fullness of God-Life?
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