Introduction

This is the sermon I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday and Sunday, Oct. 10-11, 2009, the weekend of the Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost.

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Readings

Amos 5:6-7, 10-15
Psalm 90:12-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31

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Prayer

Long ago, O God, you spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets. Now in these last days, make us listen as you speak to us by your Son. Amen. (based on Hebrews 1:1-2, NRSV)

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Message

If you saw Jesus and his disciples
heading towards you on the sidewalk,
and you ran up to him
and dropped to your knees,
what one question would you ask?

Maybe, like the disciples,
you might ask what Jesus means
by that one parable about the seeds and the soil.
Or perhaps you might ask
if he is really serious
about cross-bearing as a mark of discipleship.

More contemporary questions
might seem reasonable too.
What’s the right direction for our church to take?
What does this passage of Scripture mean?
What’s the moral response to abortion?
What is our responsibility to care for poor people?
Should we look to government funding for social programs?
Is capital punishment ever warranted?

And then, again, the same question
might come to mind
that falls from the lips
of the rich young man in today’s Gospel:
“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

That might cross our minds,
but it’s a little odd,
in our time, to ask this question.
For the most part,
we make our way through our days,
watching them blend into weeks
and blur into years,
as if this life is all we have,
like the here and now is all there is.

Just think about how we spend our time,
where we focus our energies,
on what possessions we gather around us.

We work to earn money
to keep a roof over our heads,
but we also go into debt
to fill the space under those roofs
with so many things
that storage becomes an issue.

Why we do this is a complicated question.
But if we look at ourselves
in the mirror of God’s law
and ask what really motivates us
to accumulate, to acquire, to amass so much stuff,
so much more than we can use,
more even than we can remember that we have,
I have a hunch we might
finally admit to God and to one another
that we are motivated by fear.

We use possessions to hide from that fear,
to help us create and maintain an illusion.
We want to believe we control our lives,
but in truth,
what we fear is death.

We end up using our things
and the little momentary twinge of pleasure
we get when we grab onto the next new item
as a kind of drug,
a blockade, a mask,
to hide us, to protect us from the reality
that there is no escape from death.

Whether it comes soon,
or not for a long time,
in the end, each of us
will reach the moment
when we take the last breath of air,
feel the last touch of a loved one’s hand,
gaze for the last time upon another’s face.

This is the reality of our lives.
The story that we each live
will reach its conclusion, its end,
with a simple sentence.
He died. She died.

We cannot avoid or hide or evade this end.
It is our lot in life.
The story of my life and yours as well
will be punctuated, in the end,
by a period, a full stop.

And yet, as Christians,
we believe, we trust,
that there is more to be said,
more to add to the story
after that last sentence.

And so, maybe, we would fall on our knees before Jesus
and ask, along with the rich young man,
“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

We know the commandments,
God’s desires for our lives,
for us to live according to his will,
and not to murder, commit adultery,
steal, bear false witness, and defraud.
We know that he desires for us
to honor father and mother,
to keep his name holy,
and to rest on the Sabbath.

These are his commands.
They tell us what we ought to do and ought not to do.
When God speaks this way,
we hear his Word as the law.
But his commands also tell us how it shall be.
When we live fully under God’s will,
then it shall be that we will,
fully and gladly and obediently
do and don’t do exactly what the commands say.
This is God’s Word, his command as gospel.

Perhaps we could join the rich young man in saying,
“Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”
Or maybe, we would need to say,
“Teacher, I have kept these commands most of the time.”
Or perhaps, “Teacher, sometimes I have tried to keep these commands.”

But no matter how we reply to Jesus,
his reaction to us
is just the same as his response to the rich young man.
He looks at us and he loves us.

This we need not doubt.
This is the gospel, the good news,
in one short sentence.
He loves us.
He loves you and he loves me.

Despite our sins and our shortcomings,
even though we hide behind our piles of possessions,
even though we quail in the face of our fears,
despite our doubts and our lack of faith,
Jesus looks at us and loves us.

But he also says to us
just what he says to the rich young man.

“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.” (Mark 10:21, NRSV)

But, “I’m not rich,” we might say.
I really don’t have a lot of stuff,
barely enough to make sure
we can keep that roof secure,
put healthy food on the table,
clothe ourselves for each season’s weather.

It’s possible that Jesus’ saying
only applies to the rich.
But would we want to say
that he means for his command
to apply only to the young,
or perhaps just to men?

Maybe. But it seems to me
that because Jesus raises
the commandments in the conversation,
he means to bring to mind
the great and first commandment:
Because God is the Lord and our God,
we shall have no other gods ahead of him.

And so, whatever we cling to,
whatever we grasp and hold close to ourselves
that is other than him,
this is what makes us rich in our own eyes.
This is what stands between us
and faithful obedience to his commands
to go and to be freed of those things
so that we can embrace
the treasure of heaven
and then follow Jesus.

But it’s hard, too hard, we say.
We need to keep something, just in case,
don’t we?
I ask myself that question.
And the answer is that my hands are not empty.

This is what makes the plight of the rich young man
so poignant, so personal.
This is why we can feel
crushing disappointment
drape across our shoulders
as we arise from before Jesus’ feet
and feel tempted, as that young man was,
to give in to “shock[] and [to go] away grieving,
for [we] ha[ve] many possessions.” (Mark 10:22, NRSV)

But this is why Jesus also says to his disciples and to us,

“For mortals, it is impossible,
but not for God;
for God all things are possible.” (Mark 10:27, NRSV)

We cannot earn eternal life.
Instead we inherit it as a gift.
We cannot make our own way to heaven.
Rather we follow our Lord who leads the way.

This is the only way we will inherit eternal life,
the only way we shall know freedom from things,
the only way for us to celebrate the joy of living
according to God’s commands,
the only way we may trust in the hope of heaven.

In the midst of our plenty,
we may be lacking that one thing,
but we can trust that Jesus loves us,
in spite of our many possessions.

For us, this is impossible.
But for God, all of this and more is possible.
And so we can go, sell, and give,
and then have, come, and follow. Amen.