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“Letting Go”
By Rick Mixon
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Entire October 13th Service
By Xan Morgan
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LETTING GO
Money makes the world go around
The world go around
The world go around
Money makes the world go around
It makes the world go ’round.
The world go around
The world go around
Money makes the world go around
It makes the world go ’round.
Kander and Ebb’s clever lyrics from Cabaret, might be taken as a somewhat cynical commentary on today’s text. It certainly sets up the tension between prosperity gospel, modern capitalistic consumerism and Jesus’ view of the world. There is a contrasting song from a different musical, Carnival by Bob Merrill that argues “Love makes the world go round.” Isn’t that the tension in this little drama – love versus money? At the end of the tale, are we asked, like the rich man, to choose one or the other, to commit to one and let go of the other because, as Jesus teaches elsewhere, we simply cannot serve both God and mammon. We have to choose between love and money.
There are several angles from which we might approach this incident. I suppose the sentimental is the most popular. This man, like Nicodemus in John’s gospel, is drawn to what he has heard from and about Jesus. He has detected something in Jesus that inspires him to come running, to kneel in great reverence, and to ask the question that’s burning in his heart, sure that Jesus has the answer. Breathlessly he asks, “Good teacher, what must I do to get eternal life?”
The empathy of Jesus is clear. He sees deeply into the life of the rich man and understands his honest desire for “eternal life.” The text says, “Jesus looked them hard in the eye—and loved them!” Of course, Jesus also sees that the rich man is not ready for full commitment and that saddens him. Still, it does not preclude his deep affection for one who is struggling to find his way. What quickly evolves here is a connection, a relationship, if you will. There is reverence and affection, compassion and love. There is little, if any, room for conflict. The desire for shalom, peace, well-being that’s built into this encounter is one born of empathy. It is true that the rich man walks away deeply conflicted, but this conflict is not with Jesus. It is an inner conflict.
Jesus sees more deeply into the rich man’s soul than he does himself. Jesus confronts the rich man directly yet he does it with love and affection. The reality Jesus spells out must be already teetering on the edge of the rich man’s conscience. He comes to Jesus knowing that, as rich and wonderful as his life may be, something is lacking. When Jesus accurately names what that lack is, he goes away with a heavy heart. Frankly, I want to believe that this is not the end of the story, but the beginning of a new chapter. The rich man is not now ready to act, but the seed is sown, the idea planted, consciousness raised. He may have gone away sorrowful on this day, but his lack has been addressed. The notion, now planted, has the chance to prosper and grow over time.
However, there are less sentimental ways to view this tale. There are scholars who argue that, in the context of first century Palestine, the man’s initial behavior indicates how unlikely he is to get Jesus’ perspective on things. Running, kneeling, pandering to Jesus by calling him “Good teacher” are all problematic in a shame and honor culture. This view argues that the man actually disrespects Jesus from the beginning by his extravagant behavior which indicates his sense of superiority as a man of wealth and a member of the ruling class. He expects some special word from Jesus worthy of his elevated status and is disappointed when Jesus rebuffs his greeting and only asks if he has kept the commandments. He is not only wealthy. He is pious. Of course, he keeps the commandments. In fact, his wealth allows him to follow the laws as he is not fighting to survive in an oppressive, abusive society.
In Bible study the past couple of weeks we have looked at texts from Job and Mark. The group assigned the text from Mark for this week’s worship. But as I thought about it, there is an important parallel between Job and Mark. Though the stories play out differently, both Job and this rich man are people of privilege. True everything is taken from Job while the rich man is allowed to hold on to his wealth. The parallel is in their understanding of God and how God works in the world. Both are caught up in the ancient belief that God blesses the good and curses the bad, that one can earn God’s favor. When God offers a different way of seeing the world, Job, after considerable struggle, begins to see from God’s perspective. The rich man goes away sad.
I think it is vital for both these characters and for us to let go of this idea that we can earn God’s blessing, that there is something we can do to gain eternal life, that salvation is transactional. Life is gift, eternal life is grace generously given, God loves and blesses all creation freely. The rich man cannot wrap his mind around this reality. There is so much he must let go of in order to enter on this way. So perhaps he is not such a sympathetic character after all. And still Jesus loves him.
So what does this text teach us of economic equity? I find it difficult to talk about justice without talking about economic equity. Yes, we can speak of justice in rather rarefied and abstract ways. But for me, pairing justice with economic equity makes it more real, gives it a necessary practical substance.
In considering the Bible scholar John Dominic Crossan’s important work on the evolution of what he names as “divine violence,” we discover that one of the key truths from the creation of the earth and the beginning of time is that God is a God of “distributive justice.” In distributive justice, God creates a world founded in shalom and a huge piece of shalom is the prosperity and well-being of all. God creates a world of plenty and tasks us with ensuring that that abundance is shared equitably among the whole of creation. I believe this is what it means to have “dominion.” Rather than lording it over creation our calling is to work with the Creator to ensure distributive justice or economic equity. No need for greed, to hoard, to accumulate, to take more than your fair share. There is more than enough to go around! This is the world into which Jesus invites the rich man.
And yet, when the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, it seems inevitable that the conflict generated will spill over into violence. Economic equity is surely a recipe for peace as an antidote to economic inequity, which breeds envy, greed, discontent, resentment, and revolution. It may be a bit of a stretch, but I think this is the lesson that Mark is lifting up in this story. Jesus is teaching the rich man, his own disciples, and us, a lesson about economic equity, about distributive justice. Working backward within the text, as the rich man walks away, we are told that he was sad because he had great wealth. Eugene Peterson paraphrases it, “He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and not about to let go.”
The nagging question is, if the rich man was so dedicated to finding eternal life – remember we’re talking about something much deeper and broader than the proverbial “fountain of youth” – why was he so committed to accumulating and hanging on to that which, in the end, could not satisfy? Does he go away sad because he had so much to hang on to, or is he sad because, deep down, he knows Jesus is right? His stuff really does get in the way.
Theodore Jennings has written a challenging commentary on Mark titled, The Insurrection of the Crucified: The “Gospel of Mark” as Theological Manifesto. You can imagine from that title, Jennings takes a radical view of what Mark is about in telling the story as he does. Jennings argues that biblical scholars, theologians, and everyday Christians alike have gone out of their way to spin this tale of the rich man, to gloss it over, so that it doesn’t mean what it says or say what it means.
Jennings argues that “Mark is saying, God is to be honored not by cult or temple, but by justice and mercy. No religious shortcut, no cultic detour, is possible from this path.” He continues, “…this teaching makes clear the incompatibility of the gospel with worldly care and possessions.” He insists, “…there is entry into [eternal] life only for those who are unencumbered with possessions. There is no room in the companionship of Jesus for wealth, not even for private property” (Theodore W. Jennings, Jr., The Insurrection of the Crucified: The “Gospel of Mark” as Theological Manifesto, p. 159 ff).
This is radical stuff, tough teaching. Part of me wants to know how well Professor Jennings adheres to what he advocates. And yet, I believe he has a point in his interpretation of the text, even if it is almost inconceivable for us, caught up in our capitalist framework. Rabbi Moshe Leib teaches, “How easy it is for the poor to depend on God! What else have they to depend on? And how hard it is for the rich to depend on God! All their possessions call out to them: ‘Depend on us!’”
So, what gets in the way of our following Jesus, what comes between us and God, what keeps us from living into God’s Beloved Community? It may very well be wealth or possessions, material stuff. It may also be some other deep desire – fame, revenge, the perfect partner, the tenured professorship, the dream home, the downfall and destruction of enemies, the fountain of youth. I am sure you can name the one thing that is lacking for you. What is it that you are holding onto tightly, afraid to let go?
Jesus lays out for the rich man, for his disciples, and for us what eternal life is like, life in God’s Beloved Community. It’s an unencumbered life in which we are free to follow Jesus. It’s a life that liberates us from all that binds so that we can operate in solidarity with the least of these. As hard as the teaching may seem, and even if we go away in sadness, it doesn’t change the reality that the unencumbered life, a life of generosity and sharing, of distributive justice and economic equity, is the way of Christ, and the fulfillment of God’s original creative design. Jennings reminds us that, in the end, “…the following of Jesus is not a grim business of renunciation. It is…the joyful business of experiencing, even in the midst of suffering, the hundred-fold gain of the dawning age of joy” (Jennings, op. cit., p. 166).
Archbishop Desmond Tutu offers this blessing, reminding us of the joy of abiding in God’s love – the joy into which Jesus invites the rich man and us:
Dear Child of God, you are loved with a love that nothing can shake, a love that loved you long before you were created, a love that will be there long after everything has disappeared. You are precious, with a preciousness that is totally quite immeasurable. And God wants you to be like God. Filled with life and goodness and laughter—and joy.
God, who is forever pouring out God’s whole being from all eternity, wants you to flourish. God wants you to be filled with joy and excitement and ever longing to be able to find what is so beautiful in God’s creation: the compassion of so many, the caring, the sharing. And God says, please, my child, help me. Help me to spread love and laughter and joy and compassion. And you know what, my child? As you do this—hey, presto—you discover joy. Joy, which you had not sought, comes as the gift, as almost the reward for this non-self-regarding caring for others (Dalai Lama [Tenzin Gyatso] and Desmond Tutu with Douglas Abrams, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World, p. 298).