Sermon, October 12, 2003
18 Pentecost, Proper 23, Year B
The Rev. Lowell E. Grisham
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
Fayetteville, Arkansas
Sermon, October 12, 2003
18 Pentecost, Proper 23, Year B
The Rev. Lowell E. Grisham
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
Fayetteville, Arkansas
Living Too Richly
It takes a bit of leisure to be on a spiritual quest. Sometimes it says something about you, for instance, if you are able take a week for a retreat. It means you have enough freedom from your job and family responsibilities that neither are threatened if you leave them for a time. It may be that most people don't have that kind of discretion. It is something of a privilege to have the time and resources to buy and read books about spirituality or to go to a monastery or cabin to pray and reflect. Not everybody can do that. If you are holding down a couple of jobs, taking care of kids and maybe an aging parent, running as fast as you can just to keep life and limb together, it's hard to do more than just survive and drop into bed in semi-exhaustion before the alarm rings too early again and you start all over. You don't have much time for questions like this one from the man who approaches Jesus in our Gospel today.
"Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" he asks. It appears he's had some leisure and security to be able to get to the place where that's his most important life-question. His situation is different, for instance, from the woman who begs Jesus throw a crumb from the children's table and heal her daughter. Or the man who lives among the tombs and the swine and needs his demons overcome. Or the Samaritan woman drawing water alone in the hottest part of the day carrying her past mistakes with her. This questioner has a much different kind of desperation. In a different way though, you sense that he too is needy.
He's apparently succeeded at life. Since his youth he has followed the commandments -- you shall not murder; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal or bear false witness or defraud. He's been successful in these important virtues. No doubt, he is an accomplished person. He is probably treated with respect. Many would say he is treated with respect because he has earned it. He's a respectable person. He has also used his character and skills to become wealthy.
And like many people who have lived upright, productive lives, he's had the leisure and opportunity to ponder the deeper matters. By now he's recognized that there's something more; and the other side of that realization for him -- there is something lacking. It's just not enough to be a good person, following all the rules and always doing the right thing. That's good, but it's not enough. It's not enough being a respected person with a degree of power and autonomy over your life. That can be a good thing, but he knows, it's really not enough. And being wealthy and having many possessions is not enough either. He's had time to think about it. He wants something more, something deeper. He's pretty much mastered "earthly life" he thinks. The question on his heart is about mastering something deeper. And I think he asks his question with confidence. He's ready for a new challenge. "Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"
Jesus looks deeply into him, sensing intuitively with deep compassion, what is it that this fine man needs to become whole. "You lack one thing." The man brightens with expectation. Whatever it is, he'll do it. Whatever it takes to add the prize of eternal life to his treasure. So Jesus tells him, "Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then," (hear these wonderful words) "come, follow me."
Barbara Brown Taylor describes it this way:
It is a rich prescription for a rich man. ...It is an invitation to become smaller and more agile... It is a dare to become a new creature, defined in a new way, to trade in all the words that have described him up to now -- wealthy, committed, cultured, responsible, educated, powerful, obedient -- to trade them all in for one radically different word, which is free.
Taylor, The Preaching Life, p. 124
He can't do it. In shock, he leaves grieving.
In one sense it is a money issue. Money is an incredibly tempting form of power. Not many people handle it well. Our culture worships money. Unconsciously we tend to project respect and privilege upon those with money. Money is an issue for this man. Money is an issue for all of us. Money is especially an issue for those of us who have it. It is addictive. Yes, it's a story about money.
But it's more than that. It's a story about bondage and freedom. His hands are too full to receive the gift Jesus offers. He's possessed by his possessions. And it is too fearful for him to let go of them, even if it means his freedom. He's tied up by his possessions in the same way others of us are tied up with other things. Some of us are tied up with responsibilities. It takes a Palm Pilot to keep track of the kids' schedules and get them to soccer and music, the orthodontist and Scouts. Some of us are tied up with jobs that expect sixty hours plus from us. Some of us are tied up with trying to please others -- trying to meet the expectations of everyone else so there is nothing much left for themselves. Some of us are tied up with diversions -- football and TV and too much to drink. Some feel like we have to have a perfect kitchen or a manicured lawn. And all of these things are good things, or at the least neutral. Like money. Until they become overwhelming and rob us of our freedom.
Unless we have some boundaries and margins and space in our lives, unless we can let go of some things, we are not free to respond in the grace of the moment. Such as... when Jesus says, "You lack one thing. Quit trying to please everyone else and sit with me for a bit." Or, "Cut back on your promises and do only one thing at a time." Or, "Turn off the TV and pay attention for a while." Or, "Let go of some stuff and live less extravagantly." Or "Give away some of your time, or power, or money." But if we have no time to give away, or no trust to surrender power, or no freedom to give money -- we are cousins of this grieving man. We have too much to be free. Sometimes we have too much of the good things so that we lose the gift of the best.
He sure feels familiar to me. I can't keep up with all the things I believe I need to do. And then there's email. Not to mention the mortgage and the bills. And football. It's easy to say, "You need to give up a few things and get some free space in your life," and I look around and shake my head in grief and ask, "But what? What can I give up? It all seems so necessary. Or else it's something I want." And there are days when I think it must be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for me to let go of what I cling to. Yet, there is this small voice of sanity whispering inside my soul, the gentle voice of Jesus inviting me to let go of whatever binds me, and accept the gift of freedom. To open my eyes and see: it's all a gift anyway. It's not my life; it's not my time; it is not my stuff. It's all a gift anyway. So why not let go of it and freely follow him? But it seems so hard. And every time I think I've made some progress, I fall right back into the same familiar patterns I've lived with and perfected for decades. I see so many of my friends in their own versions of the same familiar traps. So, like the bewildered disciples, I shake my head in disbelief and ask, "Then who can be saved?" It's the same old question. It hasn't changed much. And neither has the answer. "For us, it is impossible. But not for God. For God, all things are possible."