Why wait?

Mark 10.17-31

Mark 10.17-31: 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.’”  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.”

Throughout Christian history, various saints have chosen to take the advice of Jesus to the rich man literally and prescriptively, including Anthony and Francis, literally liquidating their estates and becoming either recluse monks or mendicants (Francis began liquidating his father’s estate without his father’s permission…).  The Scripture has created or encouraged or increased, depending on contexts, discomfort between church and money.  So many “shoulds”! Should we impoverish ourselves to temporarily enrich others, knowing that without sustainability, a hand-out just buys time?  Is Jesus’s advice for this rich man also injunction for us today, or simply for him?  Should we feel guilty when we are successful or live as draconian-ly or spartanly as possible?  Should financial success be another proving ground for our faith (to an often-disapproving God)?

The “shoulds” above were drilled into my own religious upbringing so that church and money are extremely uncomfortable for me, as is money in general.  It seems Jesus was addressing a different context, however.  Remember that at the time of Jesus, financial success was understood to be God’s gift to the righteous; people who were rich deserved to be and people who were impoverished had room for spiritual growth.  The disciples and crowd are shocked to hear that it is difficult to enter into the kingdom of God.  After all, if the rich, who are favored by God, have a hard time, then who can do it at all?  There is an errant idea I have heard in church life that there was a “needle gate” into Jerusalem that was quite small, but that a camel could enter if on its knees, as if Jesus was making a literal claim about the need of our camels to pray.  Please know this doesn’t bear out archaeologically at all.  It seems Jesus was making a hyperbolic statement, an exaggeration, rather than an allusion.  It is really hard for folks with resources to enter into the kingdom.  All things are possible with God, but even God has to work on it. 

Peter speaks for so many of us: “Look, I might not exactly be rich, but I have given up things and income and family time and friendship time and leisure time to pursue you as my rabbi.  Don’t I get some reward?”  Jesus’s response is a little less than inspiring: 100-fold returns on your investment, measured in fields, households, family, and persecutions.  The first three sound great and are exactly the assets I would want my broker to pursue.  The persecutions?  Sell or divest, please.  Jesus as broker or broker representative seems pretty committed to leaving these in the portfolio, however, which goes back to the original advice to the rich man: if the rich man did divest himself of all possessions and wealth, he would be like those to whom he gave—poor.  Maybe that is what Jesus is driving at all along, that what the rich man really needs is solidarity with humanity and his resources are getting in the way.  Perhaps Jesus was and continues to ask us to consider what obstacles stand between us and others.  Our resources?  Our pride?  Our shame?   Our tradition?  Our desire or even need to feel as though we are in control?  Our education?  All of these obstacles help us navigate life with comfort and safety, but do they get in the way of seeing and hearing and empathizing with others?  Maybe we measure our wealth in not needing or taking help.  Could we divest ourselves of independence so that we could live interdependently and in rich community?  Maybe we are rich in knowledge.  Could we divest ourselves of always being right so that other could teach and we could still learn?  Maybe we have an abundance of “karma.”  Could we divest ourselves of the notion that people get what they pay for (including ourselves) and invest in compassion?

Small corollary.  My faith life was rooted around the idea that faith was about the rewards we will receive, especially when we die: heaven instead of hell.  I have spent time in houses of faith that incentivized morality for the living with the wisdom of Proverbs: God rewards tithing and tight morals in this lifetime as well.  Songs from my religious soundtrack: I’ll fly away (because life is so bad and the faithful life even harder).  My faith was a you-get-what-you-pay-for on a cosmic and eternal level.  But what if this is not the case at all?  What if human justice is like this, but God’s is not?  What if God intends to give all people the same gifts (so that they are not even “rewards”) regardless of our sweat equity? I have to admit I am still struggling with this, even though I am cognitively convinced it is the case, if for no other reason than it is so much bigger than I am. What would be the “point” of faith if there is nothing to be earned because God’s gifts will be given eventually anyway?  Maybe that’s the point in the first place: retraining ourselves to enjoy God’s gifts in us, see them in others, and help others enjoy them.  Maybe the divesting we need to do is not as simple as money, but accumulated jockeying to justify our existence by being less miserable than someone else or having a more successful brand of work, education, clothing, children, etc. Maybe the biggest reward is not waiting until we die for God to do what is best for us and the world.