Tuesday, October 9, 2018

It's Hard to Give Stuff Up (Reflections on Pentecost 21, Year B)

Image result for heinrich hoffmann art
"Jesus and the Rich Young Man" Heinrich Hofmann, 19th Cent.

“How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the Kingdom of God.” (Mark 10:23)

That’s a pretty intimidating scriptural passage I just quoted above, don’t you think? Fortunately, it’s not one I personally need to be intimidated by since I don’t think I possess anything that could really be described as wealth by the standards of our society. Of course, as I stop and think about it, I’m really living in unimaginable wealth and luxury compared to just about anyone living in the developing world. My modest little two-bedroom twin home (made affordable on my pastor’s salary thanks to my state’s Fair and Affordable Housing Act) is a freakin’ palace next to a mud hut in Uganda[i] or some place like that.

But still, the Gospel appointed for Pentecost 21 Year B in the Revised Common Lectionary (Mark 10:17-31) doesn’t sound like anything I can preach to my congregation. I mean, the danger of excessive wealth isn’t really a problem we face here in Northeast Philly. Most of my folks are living paycheck-to-paycheck, and the church is too. We’re just barely hanging on here, cutting corners, downsizing, and watching while other Lutheran parishes are going down like Custer at the Big Horn. Do we really need to be warned about being wealthy..?

I should be so lucky to be pastor of some suburban congregation with a million dollar endowment fund and a bunch of hedge fund managers and dermatologists in the pews! I bet I could really guilt that bunch into following Jesus by making hefty donations to Lutheran Disaster Response and stuff like that.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I resent the rich. At least not much.

No. I’m just sickened by what excessive wealth seems to be doing to my country. I turn on the news and I hear this philosophy of selfishness. The President goes before the UN and whines that America is the world’s biggest giver, but we get nothing in return (Shouldn’t somebody tell him that if we get something back it’s not really giving but trade?). Congress cuts taxes for billionaires, but will probably cut services for the indigent and the elderly as a result. TV preachers in gilded sets preach that God wants to bless us with riches. When I hear this crap I can feel myself spitting up slightly in my mouth.

And that’s the thing I don’t want to give up—my sense of superior indignation. I think I’m like everybody else—like you, probably—I have tried to keep all the commandments from my youth. I’m a nice guy. Really, I am. But just like the wealthy man in the Gospel lesson, I hang onto stuff I should really get rid of if I want to be a citizen of the Kingdom of God.

No. I really, really don’t want to part with my self-righteousness. The trouble is, it’s so hard for me to advocate for the marginalized and ask my congregation to do the same without blaming someone. I drive to work every day listening to the news on NPR and end up swearing at the radio about remarks made by people who, according to orthodox Christian theology, are no greater sinners and no less redeemed than I am.

Fortunately, I get to come to my little urban, cinder-block, sometimes-roach-infested church. I get to park in the lot where someone has left an abandoned shopping cart and discarded garbage from the fast food joint. I get to clean up the spilled coffee the AA group has left in the Fellowship Room. And, later, I get to teach a beautiful group of eight middle school students about the Ten Commandments and the concept of God’s grace. 

“They were greatly astonished 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.’” (Mark 10:26-27)

That just about says it all, doesn’t it? And thank God it does!

Thanks for stopping by this week.



[i] Do they have mud huts in Uganda? I should check that out.

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