This is my homily for today, the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B. Today's readings are here.
It’s not always easy to sympathize with wealthy people, but there is a part of me that really sympathizes with the rich man in today’s Gospel. He wants to get something – eternal life - that costs a lot, but he doesn’t want to pay the price.
He appears to be a good person. He is a pious man who strives to follow God’s commandments. But Jesus challenges the rich man to do more than just follow the rules. It seems that following the rules isn’t enough. He challenges him to give up the worldly thing that apparently matters most to him: his wealth. And it appears that, for the rich man, that is an ask too much. It is a bridge too far. So he went away sad, because what Jesus asked him to do: it’s not that he would have been unable to do it, but it seems he was unwilling to do it. He wasn’t willing to pay the price. He wasn’t all-in.
Following Jesus promises wonderful things for us: eternal bliss, and blessings beyond the limits of our imagination. But there is a price to be paid. We must be willing to subordinate everything in our lives to him. Not just some things. Not most things. Not everything except for that one worldly thing that we really, really like. Everything! Even the worldly things that we prize the most. We need to be all in for Jesus and his kingdom.
In the case of the rich man, that worldly thing was riches. That’s not unusual; many of us arrange our lives around the pursuit and attainment of wealth. Others of us may have other worldly values and desires which we’d have to relinquish in order to really commit to following Jesus. It could be the desire to have illicit relations with other women or men. It could be a thirst for power or fame. It could be drugs, or gambling, or pornography, or other addictive pursuits. It could be a particular hatred or envy or a desire for revenge against another, some grievance which we’ve nursed for years or even decades.
I think many of us are like the rich man. We are good people, and we do many good and holy things in our lives. But we hesitate to jump all the way into the pool; we prefer to dip our toes into discipleship, while keeping the other foot firmly planted in our old way of life.
Following Jesus is an all-or-nothing proposition. We must jump into the pool with both feet. Mark hasn’t been shy about communicating to us the all-or-nothing-ness of following Jesus. Let’s connect those dots: two weeks ago, Jesus told us, if our hand causes us to sin, cut it off! If our eye causes us to sin, pluck it out! That’s how radical the call to discipleship is.
Then, last week, Jesus talked about one of the most difficult subjects in the New Testament: marriage and divorce. His message to his disciples was that marriage is for life. Those promises we make on our wedding day are for life. Our marital promises are an unequivocal, all-or-nothing proposition. When it comes to our marriages, either we’re in or we’re out, and if we’re in, we need to be all the way in. Being only partly committed to our marriages is like trying to walk around with one leg in our pants and the other leg out. Either we’re all the way in, or we’re out. In this all-the-way-in-ness, our Christian tradition has recognized that marriage is a powerful image for discipleship.
And now, this week, the rich man goes away sad because he doesn’t think he can be all the way in. He wants to have what Jesus offers, and yet hold on to his old way of life, too. It can’t be done. It would be like being married while still trying to remain single.
If you’ve ever seen the play or the film “1776”, you know that the climax comes when our American Founding Fathers have to sign the document that Thomas Jefferson has drafted: the Declaration of Independence. Each man who signs his name to that piece of paper publicly proclaims where he stands. Once their names are signed on the document, there is no longer the possibility of half-commitment to rebellion against the British. There is no turning back. It’s the moment of decision: either they’re in, or they’re out. And if they’re in, they’re all the way in. Signing that piece of paper was tantamount to signing their own death warrants, because the British would seek to arrest and presumably hang anyone whose signature appeared on the Declaration. Those of us who live here in the United States now, owe a great debt to those Founding Fathers who were willing to risk everything, to be all in, for the sake of our country.
That’s the kind of commitment the first Christians would have readily understood. They died many different ways: on crosses; by being stoned to death; shot by arrows; devoured by wild animals in the arena. Some were burned at the stake. We think it likely that St. Paul was beheaded. Many ways of dying, but all dying for the same reason: because their commitment to Jesus was so total that it transcended even their desire to live. They were put to the test, and they chose Jesus. We followers of Jesus owe these first martyrs a great debt, too. An early Christian, Tertullian, wrote that "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church".
I hope none of us will be put to the test as painfully as the first martyrs were. But all of us will die someday, and all of are asked to make the same choice: our worldly comforts and values, or life with Jesus.
I try very hard to choose life with Jesus. But it’s not always easy, is it? I’m told that a recovering addict has to choose, every single day, to continue down the path of sobriety. That’s what discipleship can be like, too: every single day, we have to recommit to being all-in to following Jesus. Because every single day is a chance to slip, to backslide.
That’s why I need the love and support of all of you. And it’s why I’m here to love and support each of you. Because commitments are easier to keep when we keep them together.
And we’re not alone. Jesus has sent us his Holy Spirit to give us wisdom, and fortitude, and many other gifts, to help us along the way. And Jesus himself is with us here today. He told us that where two or three gather in his name, he is here among us. Also, he continues to give his very self to us in the Eucharist, to give us the grace to face the difficulties of trying to live in his kingdom while we live here on earth.
Let us pray for one another that we can continue on this journey. Let us offer one another our friendship and support. Let us seek to sustain one another as we try to make the difficult choice to choose Jesus over all the sinful pleasures of this world.
I remember that this reading came up in religious ed class when I was a school kid. The teacher's take was, "Poor foolish young man, he just gave up salvation!" Even at the time, I did not believe that. The Gospel doesn't say that. We are faced with choices every day of our lives. The man had a good heart. God was going to keep working on him. Even if he didn't go on the road with Jesus, he could have ended up serving in other ways, "the road not taken". God wasn't finished with him yet.
ReplyDeleteThis guy reminds me of another person in the Gospels, Simon of Cyrene. A lot of commentaries give him short shrift, saying he doesn't deserve any credit, he only did the right thing because he had to. But I consider him one of my patron saints. Because I sometimes have done the right thing only because it was my duty right in front of me, and it was the last thing I wanted to do. But in the gospel account, Simon of Cyrene was referred to as "Alexander and Rufus' father". Meaning that his sons were part of the Christian community. The apples didn't fall far from the tree. Meeting Jesus on the way of the cross would have been a life changing moment.
"I sometimes have done the right thing only because it was my duty right in front of me, and it was the last thing I wanted to do."
DeleteYep.
I also like your idea that God isn't done with the Rich Man. I am always trying to imagine the way people who met Jesus might have transformed after the encounter. The Woman at the Well has always interested me.
Katherine - I agree; sometimes there is a tension in conversion: 'I encountered him, and he changed my life...just not right away.' It can take some time to contemplate, to decide, to screw up the courage, for subsequent events to reinforce the necessity of conversion, and so on.
ReplyDeleteI think this phenomenon is part of the spirituality of poverty: those who are poor have a lot less to lose (in worldly terms) than those who are wealthy. It's probably one of the factors that make Jesus's coming "good news to the poor".
"Those who are poor have a lot less to lose (in worldly terms) than those who are wealthy."
DeleteAs someone who lives just above the poverty line and receives food assistance, I would ask you to reconsider this comment.
Those of us constantly scraping things together have a great deal more to lose than rich people. Falling from the middle class means you've lost social status, a certain amount of self- worth, and are struggling to afford what it takes to live decently in America.
A hospitalization, a prescription for a non-generic med, an accident that wrecks your only vehicle, falling behind on your rent or property taxes, having to put down the cat for because you can't afford Mr Kitty's operation, not being able to help your adult children get a financial start in life--the poor are just one bad luck day away from calamity that the rich could recover from by giving up a vacation.
Jesus's message appeals to poor people because he demands that others see them as worthy people despite the fact that they're broke and ashamed and their fellow Americans figure it's their own damn fault.
Maybe I misunderstood what you were trying to say, and I apologize. But big diff between the rich man who is asked to give up what he wants to and allocate it where he chooses and a poor sod who's never had anything.
Jean, many thanks. You've shined a light on that passage for me.
DeleteI doubt that I would be able to die a tortuous death as a martyr for my faith. I can barely hang on to the very weak faith that I have.
ReplyDeleteGiving up things would be easier - as long as basic needs were met. I would have a hard time giving up,having a roof over my head.
Delete"Roof over my head" - Anne, I feel similarly. Your observation really brings home Jesus's statement that foxes have dens and birds have nests but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head. St. Francis tried to live that way, but I don't think many Franciscans would willingly choose homelessness.
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