This is a sermon that I preached on Sunday, 10/13/24, at Berkeley Friends Church. The scripture reading for this sermon was: Hebrews 4:12-16, Mark 10:17-31. You can listen to the audio, or keeping scrolling to read my manuscript. (The spoken sermon differs from the written text.)
Having heard our gospel reading this morning, I’m not quite sure why we even need a sermon. I mean, the scripture is clear, isn’t it? We should all be selling everything we own and giving the money to the poor, just like Jesus commanded the rich man in the gospel of Mark. Right?
Well, before you get ready to chase me to the nearest cliff, let me say that I do think Jesus was serious when he told the man in this passage to give away everything. I believe Jesus was serious with all of the many statements that he makes throughout the gospels, in which he calls his disciples (that’s us!) to give our wealth away to those in need. In my reading of scripture, it seems self-evident that one of the first and most amazing manifestations of the Holy Spirit among the early church was that all the believers pooled their resources, took care of the needy, and held everything in common. None of this should be controversial.
Still, when I’ve preached on this passage before, I’ve gotten some pushback. More pushback probably than on any other sermon I’ve ever preached. Because the teachings of Jesus around money are deeply threatening. They’re threatening to you; they’re threatening to me. They’re especially threatening to those of us who, through a combination of hard work and good fortune, have managed to build up some wealth, which we’re counting on to take care of ourselves, our families, and those we love.
It’s threatening for Jesus to say, “Actually, all that material abundance that you’re counting on – all that money that you’ve worked hard to gain and to manage – just let it go. There are other people who need it more than you. You don’t need two coats, and you definitely don’t need a rainy day fund. Trust God, follow me, and let worldly security go.” I don’t know about you, but that’s enough to make me want to run screaming from the meeting house!
I won’t lie: Jesus’ teaching on wealth makes me profoundly uncomfortable. I didn’t want to preach on this passage. I wanted to skip over it and head to the more laid-back parts of the Bible, like, you know, the crucifixion or the plagues of Exodus.
But fortunately, I’m held accountable by the lectionary. And this week, in the Revised Common Lectionary, this is our gospel reading. So I’m preaching on it, God help me. I’m up here preaching on this passage, despite the fact that I most definitely have not sold everything I have and given the money to the poor. My family has a rainy day fund. We own a house. We’re saving for retirement. Is that wrong? After reading this passage, I have to at least say, “maybe.”
I think all of us, especially those of us who have extra, need to honestly ask ourselves this question: What is God calling me to in terms of my personal wealth? Am I being faithful in that which has been given to me? Am I listening to the voice of the Spirit? Am I paying attention to the actions and words of Jesus? Am I serious about following him, even if he’s asking me to do things I absolutely don’t want to do?
I don’t know how I can call myself a Christian if I’m not willing to obey Jesus’ commandments. To me, it seems out of bounds to say, “Yeah, Jesus, I know you want me to sell everything and give the money to the poor, but… Nah. I don’t want to. I think I won’t.” That’s what the rich man in the story this morning said, in effect, to Jesus. And we see what that meant for him. He went away sorrowful, and not as a disciple of Jesus.
I don’t know how I can call myself a Christian if I’m not willing to obey Jesus’ commandments. To me, it seems out of bounds to say, “Yeah, Jesus, I know you want me to sell everything and give the money to the poor, but… Nah. I don’t want to. I think I won’t.” That’s what the rich man in the story this morning said, in effect, to Jesus. And we see what that meant for him. He went away sorrowful, and not as a disciple of Jesus.
I can choose to reject the words of Jesus, but it’s hard to keep a straight face and say I’m a Christian if that’s my attitude.
So, have I just talked myself into liquidating our family’s assets and distributing it to the poor folks in our neighborhood? God, I hope not. But in light of our gospel reading this morning, I do think I have to look in the mirror and ask myself: Have I really taken the question seriously?
I was encouraged by the weekly email that my fellow pastor, Faith Kelley, sent out on Friday, which included an excerpt from Richard Foster’s Freedom of Simplicity. In this text, Foster points out that all of Jesus’ commandments – including his words regarding wealth – have to be understood within the context of God’s love.
A version of this story of the rich man appears in all of the synoptic gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke – but I’ve always preferred Mark’s version, because in Mark, Jesus’ command to sell everything is preceded by, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said…” Jesus looked at him and loved him, and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
This is the crux of it: The gospel of Jesus Christ is love. Real love, personal love, God’s love. The gospel is love as only the Holy Spirit can give, not love as the world understands it.
The gospel is not a set of rules. It’s not a new Law to burden us with regulations and hoops to jump through. The gospel of Jesus is not a path of asceticism, where we earn our way into God’s good graces by performing acts of religious heroism. We don’t suffer our way into the kingdom.
The way of Jesus is love. Our God wants everything good for us. Our God looks at us and, loving us, commands us to do the hard things that we know in our bones love demands.
When Jesus spoke to the rich man in our reading this morning, he wasn’t pulling a gotcha. He wasn’t condemning the rich man. He wasn’t shaming him for being wealthy. It says he looked at him and loved him. Jesus didn’t come with a wagging finger – he looked into this man’s heart and saw what he needed to be liberated. That’s the good news: Freedom for the oppressed, recovery of sight to the blind, good news for the poor. And for the rich? What for the rich? What does gospel liberation look like for them?
What does love look like in action? Richard Foster points out that, “If I bring the needy into my home and destroy my own family in the process, I am driven by something other than love.” The love of God doesn’t sacrifice others on the altar of any ideology, even an ideology built upon the words of Jesus. We were made to love God and the people around us, and God has given us what we need to do exactly that. That’s the good news.
So what does that look like for me? What does it look like for you? Each one of us is different. The key thing is that we listen to the words of Jesus, that we pay attention to the motions of the Holy Spirit here among us. We are called to continually live in the question: What does the love of God in Jesus Christ require of me today?
For some of us, it’s a real possibility that God’s love for us means throwing off the shackles of wealth and giving to those in need, just like Jesus commands in this passage. For others of us, the details of how we’re called to love might look different. There isn’t a one-size-fits-all in the kingdom of God. There are no easy, cookie-cutter answers. In the words of the apostle Paul in his letter to the Philippians: We must continue to work out our salvation with fear and trembling.
But we must continue to work it out with fear and trembling, not excuses and hedged bets.
The wake-up call that some of us may need to hear this morning is that God’s love will call us to places we don’t want to go. Following Jesus will lead us into places that challenge us deeply. To paraphrase the famous title of William Penn’s book, we can’t expect to share in Jesus’ crown if we are unwilling to bear his cross.
But the message here is love. The challenge here is for our own good. The mission is to bless the people around us, so that they might know the love of God that we have also received.
How do we demonstrate the love of Jesus? How do we put the needs of others above our own? How do we embrace the call to freedom and adventure that Jesus extends to us? What does it look like to receive that liberation, as he calls to us, looking at us and loving us?