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.” (Mark 10:21)
On September 28 the world
said good-bye to a guy I think is one of the greatest—if not the
greatest—country music songwriters of all time, Kris Kristofferson. I guess “Me
and Bobby McGee” is probably my favorite song of his. It’s got this great lyric
in the chorus:
“Freedom’s just another
word for nothin’ left to lose, and nothin’ ain’t worth nothin’ but it’s free.”
If you think about it,
Kris had a point there. If you’re not tied down to stuff—whether you’re talking
about material wealth or work or position or relationships or whatnot—you won’t
have a whole lot of worries or responsibilities. But then I start thinking
about something another guy I admire, the late economist John Kenneth Galbraith,
said. He thought the greatest threat to the freedom and liberty of anyone was
poverty. He also had a point. If you don’t have the dough to do stuff, there’s
not a lot of stuff you’re free to do.
I’m wondering just how
free those folks down in North Carolina, Kentucky, Florida, and Georgia are
feeling about now. Hurricanes Helene and Milton have washed and blown away just
about everything some people had in the world. How do you feel when the home or
business you worked and saved for has been turned into a muddy, soggy pile of
fetid crap?
It would take a very
special individual to say, “Well, I seem to have lost all I possess, but I’m
still alive. After all, it was only stuff.” If the seeker in the gospel
lesson appointed for Pentecost 21, Year B in the RCL (Mark 10:17-31) was
contented with his stuff, why would he come running after Jesus and kneeling at
the Lord’s feet to ask him what more his soul needed?
This gospel passage is a
tough one (Aren’t they all?). In verse 23 Jesus says, “How hard it will be for
those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” I don’t imagine, given this
translation from the New Revised Standard Version Bible that anyone in my
congregation will be too worried about this. After all, there just aren’t a
whole lot of hedge fund managers, venture capitalists, or NBA stars worshiping
here in Northeast Philly. But “wealth” is kind of a relative term, don’t you
think? Any American with a roof over his or her head, a job, and clean drinking
water is living in unimaginable wealth compared to someone living in the
developing world, or someone living in the tents on the sidewalk near our local
mall, or even someone who just had their house washed down a canyon by Hurricane
Helene.
Of course, there’s
another way to get around this warning of Jesus. If we look at verse 23 in the
Greek (and why wouldn’t we?) the phrase translated as “those who have wealth”
is actually “tous pepoithotas epi tois chremasin.” Or, literally, “those
who trust in riches.” I guess Jesus is saying you don’t actually have to
have riches, but if you put your faith in material riches, you’re going
to have a rough time experiencing what God wants you to experience. This
naturally begs the question, don’t we all, in some way, trust in our riches? That’s
why we have Social Security and 401K plans and invest money in our homes and
stash a little somethin’ somethin’ away for a rainy day. Right?
The disciples are
perfectly within their rights to ask, as they do in verse 26, “Who can be
saved?” Who, unless you’re Francis of Assisi or Mother Teresa, is willing to
commit the act of total liquidation to live only as a follower of Jesus? I don’t
think I’ve met anyone with that kind of faith, and I know I don’t have it.
But what if that act of liquidation
isn’t voluntary? What if you’re one of those folks down in North Carolina who
have just seen everything you own washed down the river? What would matter to
you then? How would you experience your own personhood? What would there be of
value to sustain you?
Jesus’ disciples seem
pretty smug about their own voluntary poverty. In verse 26 Peter, perhaps
rather proudly, points out that he and his eleven colleagues have chucked it
all to be followers of Jesus. He doesn’t seem to be trusting in wealth,
but he might just be thinking he’s achieved a certain status by renouncing it.
Jesus has to disabuse him of this. Sacrificing everything in hopes of gain isn’t
really sacrificing. It’s actually transactional or, at the very least,
gambling.
Verse 21 reminds us that
Jesus looked at the man seeking salvation and loved him—even if he knew the
fellow wasn’t going to be able to accept what the Good Teacher had to say. And
Jesus also knows that the reward for our
abandonment of earthly things will never be enjoyed in the earthly realm. He is
asking us to do what is really impossible for us—to give up our trust in
everything, to go broke in terms of wealth, position, status, self-image, personal
assumptions, and everything else—and just come humbly to receive the grace of
God.
This is a tough ask, but
it is one with which each of us will one day have to comply.
Since I began this post
with a quote from Mr. Kristofferson, I might as well end with one and share
these lyrics which I feel would get the Martin Luther Seal of Approval:
Why
me Lord?
What
have I ever done
To
deserve even one
Of
the pleasure I've known?
Tell
me, Lord
What
did I ever do
That
was worth lovin' you
For
the kindness you've shown?
Lord
help me, Jesus
I've
wasted it so
Help
me, Jesus
I
know what I am
But
now that I know
That
I needed you so
Help
me, Jesus
My
soul's in your hands.
Thanks
for checking in on me this week. Please come back again.
PS - If you'd like to hear Kristofferson sing this great old song, just click "Why Me."
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