Pentecost 20, Year B
Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us, that we may continually be given to good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Today’s scriptures about wealth seem like
every rector’s dream in stewardship season. Unfortunately, when you look
closely, it’s clear that today’s Gospel is a discipleship story, not a
“stewardship” story. As a colleague points out, “Jesus did not say to the man
in Mark, ‘[Sell all of your possessions, then]Take the proceeds and hand them
over to Judas, our Treasurer, who will use them to facilitate this very
important ministry we’re doing.’”[1]
Today’s sermon isn’t about financing St. Thomas. But it is about following
Jesus on a lifelong journey.
Riches, of course, can get in our way
as we try to follow Jesus. Riches aren’t just the huge pile of wealth belonging
to other people, like movie stars and Wall Street traders. Even the modest
riches in the midst of which we all live can get in our way. Last Sunday
afternoon, we set up a table outside PetSmart, right down Westport Road from
St. Thomas. We were offering pet blessings in the tradition of St. Francis of
Assisi. Some busy people in fancy
workout gear drove up in their cars. Others came out of the store pushing
shopping carts overflowing with pet supplies. I watched their faces as those
with pets approached our group. We didn’t have a sign, but I was standing there
in my collar, with my strange-looking black and white “choir dress” billowing in
the breeze. A few folks who had heard about us on TV earlier in the week came
right up to us, all smiles. But mainly I watched eyes narrow with doubt as
strangers sized up the unusual situation. When we called out to them, “Want a
free pet blessing?” some people looked down at their feet and fled rapidly.
Most came forward, yet quite tentatively. I could see them wondering what the
“catch” was. Were we going to try to sell them something? Take up their
valuable time? Rip them off in some way?
I wonder: If Jesus were there
offering eternal life, I imagine that even he would have gotten similar
reactions of suspicion from us rich Americans out for a long afternoon of Sabbath
shopping. We might have been too busy buying things to stop and listen to him.
We might have been too jaded by the constant bombardment of advertising in our
lives even to check out what Jesus was offering. If the eye of the needle were
a measure of time, rather than space, a hole in our working, earning,
purchasing consumer day, we would indeed have trouble passing through it with
our bulging schedules and crammed lives intact.
In contrast, this past Wednesday
evening, we took our pet blessings over to one of the parking lots off River
Road. There, each week, several organizations serve the homeless men, women,
and children living in nearby camps. When we arrived with our basket full of
donated pet supplies, homeless adults ran up to us and began to plead and grab
for the bags of pet food. In the chaos that ensued, I felt like a substitute
kindergarten teacher walking into a classroom with a basket from ToysRUs. The
people’s desperation was shocking …. But so was their gratitude. I saw
absolutely no suspicion in their eyes. No hesitancy. When we asked if their
pets wanted a blessing, every single one of them agreed eagerly. Afterwards,
they stuck around. They chatted with us about their pets. They told us about their
lives. And they didn’t just thank us. “Bless you. God bless you,” they said,
over and over again. We had come to bless the poor and their pets, but the poor
knew that their job was rather to bless us.
I imagine that if Jesus had come to
that parking lot with a basket of eternal life, these folks would have had no
trouble grabbing desperately for it. They wouldn’t have worried about looking
dignified and self-sufficient. They’re used to living on the edge. They know
how to recognize their need. They have nowhere else to rush off to. They know
all too well that they are alive by the grace of God. They know the value of a
blessing.
Our riches can actually prevent us
from having gratitude for our lives. Have you ever stood motionless in the cereal
aisle at Kroger, frozen in place by the sheer number of cereal choices
confronting you? Or in the soda aisle? Or in the clothing department of your
favorite store? Or in your very own closet? It’s somehow humanly impossible to
treasure something when we are overwhelmed by too many choices. There was once a
little boy who loved a little red Matchbox car. He played with it night and
day, so smitten with it that his well-meaning parents decided to buy him lots
more Matchbox cars for his birthday. With a basket full of cars, the little boy
stopped playing with all of them entirely. When his mother asked him why he didn’t
even touch all of the nice cars they gave him, he replied with deep pain in his
voice, “But Mommy, I don’t know how to love so many cars.”[2]
Our wealth doesn’t make it easy for us to follow
Jesus, but more than wealth can stand in our way. I’m not saying that Jesus
played poker, but if he had, he might have asked the man kneeling before him: “Are
you ‘all in?’” Are you ready to put all of your chips on the table and push
them in Jesus’ direction? Back in Viking days, a Viking king was converted to
Christianity. In the way of kings, he ordered
all of his people to get baptized, too. Soon it was time for his warriors to
enter the river and immerse themselves in the baptismal waters. They all waded
into the stream holding one of their arms high above their heads. Why did they
make this strange gesture? They didn’t want the arms and hands that carried
their swords to go under the water! They had been taught that whatever got wet
would belong to God, and they still wanted to be able to fight and kill with
their swords.[3] Today
it would be our trigger fingers, perhaps, that we would keep carefully dry? I
This story has always made me think.
I say that I want to be immersed in my baptismal covenant. I say that I want my
life to belong to God. I say that I want to follow Jesus. But I know that there
are parts of myself that I try to keep out of that holy and life-changing
water. For some of us, like the man in our Gospel, it might indeed be our
wallets that we try hard to keep dry and safe from Jesus’ demands. For others,
it might be our schedules. Or our careers. Or a relationship. Or even a dearly
held self-perception such as perfection or independence. Think for a moment:
What do you try to hold up and away from your baptismal covenant so that it won’t
get wet? Do your arms ever get tired? Whatever it is, loving us, Jesus tells
us: “Put it down. Let my cleansing waters cover you from head to toe. Go under
the water so that you may rise free to become my disciples—and truly live.”
“Seek the Lord and live,” cries the
fiery prophet Amos. We all want to live--to live fully, truly, deeply,
abundantly. We long for a meaningful life, a life filled with God, with love,
with joy. We’re tired of superficial pleasures. We’re tired of the rat race. We’re
tired of trying to be good. We know that all of our things and all of our
choices don’t bring us the lasting joy that we seek. Like Luther sings, “Did we
in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing. Were not the right
man on our side, the man of God’s own choosing.” There is nothing for us to
earn, or buy, or accumulate—including goodness—that will secure for us the Life
for which we long. To secure that life, we must let Jesus set us free from
whatever inner or outer burdens we or our world have laid upon us.
In my mind, the story of the man in
our Gospel doesn’t end with him going away grieving into the sunset. In my
mind, he goes home to his splendid home and full, busy life and ponders what
Jesus has told him. He realizes, like the little boy with the Matchbox car, that
he can’t love so many things. He realizes that his true joy is in Jesus’
presence. So he puts his younger brother in charge of his household, and he
goes after Jesus. And that’s not all. Maybe the busy shopper at PetSmart throws
away her shopping list and heads home to spend the afternoon playing fetch with
her dog. Maybe the middle-aged priest even gathers the courage to leave her
fears behind and follow Jesus. Maybe the homeless man puts down his beer
bottles and goes into rehab so that he can be present for his children. Maybe the
homeless woman heads down the street after Jesus, too, offering homeless
kittens and blessings to lonely passers-by. And Jesus smiles, loving them all.
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