Weren’t you under the impression that the Gospel was supposed to be the good news of the Kingdom of God? Well, where’s the good news in this? It just seems to put across the idea that the whole thing is very difficult, if not impossible.
Number 1: If we obey God’s commandments, wouldn’t we expect that we would receive credit for that? I mean, if we listen to what God tells us to do, (and what not to do) and then we act accordingly, shouldn’t he be satisfied? But no, it seems as if that’s not the way it is at all. We follow the rule-book, to the letter, and lo and behold, we find the goal posts have been moved! How fair is that?
Number 2: We are expected to live without owning anything. We are told we have to sell everything that we have, and give the money to the poor. OK I could sell my house, but the rest of the stuff wouldn’t raise a tenth of what it’s worth to me – just think about it: my clothes, my chairs and tables, my crockery, my cooker, my computer, my lawn mower, my bed??? It doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean if I sold everything, how long would I survive? And how could I do anything worth while to make my contribution to society?
Number 3: Rich people can’t enter the Kingdom of God. Doesn’t that go against everything that we are trying to do? Don’t we labour all our lives to try to improve the lot of ourselves, and others around us? Don’t we at least try to ensure that we can bring children up without hardship and deprivation? If we’re now being told that to be rich is bad, how does that sit with the idea of making poverty history? How does that sit with “I have come that they shall have abundant life”? Is helping people out of poverty wrong? Should we be helping people into poverty instead? Conversation at Heaven’s Gate: “Yes, I know you’ve been faithful and good. But weren’t you given a couple of goats by some well-meaning charity?, Well, I’m afraid that by looking after them and breeding them on you developed a large herd, didn’t you? And that places you in the category of “Rich” so, I’m sorry, but that means you can’t come in here!"
Number 4: Salvation is out of our reach. Although God can save us, there’s nothing we can do towards it. “With man it is impossible.”
Number 5: Everything is going to be turned on its head eventually anyway. The first will be last, the top will be on the bottom, the successful will be the ones who will be the real losers.
And to sum up: if you don’t go along with this philosophy of life, in which you turn your back on success and prosperity, and live on nothing, then God really hasn’t got any time for you.
Is it really like that? Well, as those of you who know me will know, I’ve been busily setting out my coconuts, all ready for them to be knocked down. If what I’ve been describing really is our duty and our destiny as followers of Christ, then either it’s dreadfully bad news, or it’s completely unachievable. The trouble is that we can be left with a vague sense that this is what it’s all about, which can either make us feel guilty or act inappropriately. At best we do something half-hearted as a gesture in the direction of what seem like impossible demands.
To find out, let’s take a really close look at the story Mark tells us, and the things Jesus says here. Let’s rewind to the start of the episode, and see exactly how it starts. Well, it really does start just like a film: Jesus is walking along. We don’t know it yet, but he is actually making his way towards Jerusalem for the last time. A man enters the frame and approaches him. No, we’ll do another take of that, please. “A man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him.” OK, is that just film dramatics, or does it mean something? Well, open your eyes and your ears to this man! Would you do this? He runs up to Jesus, kneels at his feet in the road, and says, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” No introductions, no polite leading-up to the topic, out it comes. The man is clearly moved, moved very profoundly.
He has no doubt just seen Jesus blessing the children, and saying that one needs to receive the kingdom of God like a little child. These words must have stirred him, as he thought, well, how am I going to apply this teaching in my life? To behave in the way he did, what a desire he must have had deep within him that God would find him acceptable! He has been a good man. All his life he has obeyed the commandments. He’s well-off, too. So, he must have been doing something right. He knows what good means, when he calls Jesus good. Life is sweet. He feels blest.
How many of us can share his feeling? But how many of us are then so moved by the truth of Jesus’s teaching and the gift of his life, that we are impelled to run to him and say, “What must I do?”
The challenge Jesus faces him with makes him sad. Mark says, “At this the man’s face fell.” Look at this close-up shot of him, bright, confident and expectant, and see how when he hears Jesus’s words, the features change to show the deep sadness that he now feels. And you can see, in the way he walks out of the frame, and out of the story, that that is the effect Jesus has had on him. Sadness.
How horrible is that? Is he then chucking even more dirt on him when he says to the disciples those well-known words, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!” Is he saying, “Serve him right, posh git. Don’t want him in Heaven, do we?” In short, does Jesus hate and despise him? Is he judging and rejecting? On the contrary! Do you remember? It’s the best moment in the whole story. “Jesus looked at him … and loved him.” That was the look that accompanied his words, not judgement. And as the man walked away, made sad by the words, he remembered the look. If you saw that look, you’d remember it, too.
So you see, he’s not barred from entry to the kingdom of God because he is rich. It’s not like a disqualification. The love in Jesus’s face speaks of compassion. He’s basically sorry for him, sad with him, and that’s how we must hear those words “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God”. It’s hard not because God makes it hard, but because the riches themselves make demands on him. And on us, too. They make it more difficult for us to know with any certainty what we must do to inherit eternal life.
Now, we know that Jesus told the man to sell everything he had and give to the poor. And I know some people have assumed that Jesus is making the same demand on each and every one of us. But I don’t think so. Jesus knew that that was the right thing to say to him. But he wasn’t saying the same thing to everyone present. The disciples prove this by their question, “Who then can be saved?” They wouldn’t have to ask it if everyone who did give their riches away was saved. And nor does Jesus say, “Well, the people who do do so, obviously.” He actually says, “Well, nobody. Salvation doesn’t come by anything people can do.”
But what Jesus does make abundantly clear, both here and elsewhere, is that we all have a duty of responsibility to those less fortunate than ourselves. Precisely how we carry out that responsibility is for God to command and for us to obey, and it is more than likely to be different for every one of us. If we step back from the details of exactly what Jesus demands of the man, to think more about his approach in general, we cannot fail to be struck by one thing by which I think we are all challenged. And that is what I might call his social preoccupations.
Remember the man’s question was about his spiritual destiny: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” But Jesus’s reply seems to have nothing to do with the spiritual side of life. He does not say, “Say your prayers, read your bible regularly, and make sure you go to church every Sunday.” Instead he says, “Do something for the needy. That is the thing you must do.” This is completely consistent with one of Jesus’s other pronouncements – one of the most powerful things he ever said - when he talks about how we will be divided, by the King, as if we were either sheep or goats. And what distinguishes the ones who are destined to inherit the kingdom of God from those who aren’t, has nothing whatsoever to do with the practice of their religion. It has nothing whatsoever to do with what words you say or what hymns you sing, nothing to do with what kind of building you go to on Sundays, nothing to do with what you eat or what you wear. The only criterion is whether or not you cared for other people; whether you used what you had – and it doesn’t matter if that’s material things or time or skills – to respond to the needs of others. You see, the King does not say, “Serve me, and I will do things for other people.” He says, “Serve other people, that’s the way to serve me.”
We are given a list of examples of the sorts of things that can be done to help the needy, covering some of the most basic human rights: food and water, clothing, health and justice. But there are all sorts of needs which we can respond to according to our situation, and every generous act is recognized and respected. “I tell you the truth,” says the King. “Whatever you did for the least of one of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” This is what broadens it out from the idea that we’re being told what to do, into the idea that we are being told how to behave. And that is a practical possibility, not an unrealistic demand.
There is another fascinating piece of evidence from our reading that reinforces the idea of Jesus’s social preoccupations. You remember how he quotes the ten commandments to the young man, (who replies, “Teacher, all these I have kept since I was a boy”)? Well, did you notice that Jesus actually only refers to six of the ten. You may be aware that the ten commandments which Moses brought to his people divide into two sections: the first four and the last six. The first four concern our relationship with God (no other Gods, no idols, respect for God’s name, and the Sabbath), and the other six concern our relationship with other people. It is only these last six that Jesus mentions. We can’t conclude that he regarded them as more important than the other four, because in his summary of the law he places the love of God first, but he does say that the second commandment of loving your neighbour is like the first. It may be that Jesus saw an imbalance in the religious life of the times, and sought to redress that balance. God knows what imbalance there is in the religious life of our times!
We cannot come away from this reading without being left with that ridiculous image of a camel trying to get through the eye of a needle. All sorts of ways have been thought up to try to explain this as a reasonable image, even the suggestion that there was a real narrow gate that needed you to unpack your camels to get through. Apparently there is no evidence for such a gate, and if you think about it, not much sense in building one. The image was probably used by Jesus exactly because its very exaggeration made it memorable, and as an image of what with man is impossible, but with God is possible, it is extremely effective.
And that’s not bad news, after all. This story does nudge us to be socially aware and responsible, but not in an unrealistic way. It’s not so much a case of the goal-posts being moved: if we are alive to God, we will want to grow as he directs. And although it does make it painfully clear that we can’t earn our place in the kingdom of God however much we do, we are given the reassurance that God does have the power to save us – to achieve what for us seems impossible.
But most of all we have the knowledge that, if we walk away saddened by this story, and the way it brings home to us our inadequacies, Jesus still looks at us with love. The young man may have walked out of the story sad, but who knows how his life was transformed by Jesus’s love?