Most of my ministry has been spent caring pastorally
for people who by anyone’s standards are quite well off. I have taken it
as my responsibility to preach a fair amount about caring for the poor, not
always to universal acclamation. I remember once mentioning
“redistribution of wealth” in a sermon. Let us not get into how that went
over! In frustration, which I take to have been loving frustration, a
friend in the congregation asked me exasperatingly, “Why is it that all
Episcopal priests are Democrats?” In an unholy moment of smart aleckness,
I replied, “Well, that’s because we’ve actually read the Bible.” (And, by
the way, it is not in fact true that “Christian” and “Democrat” have any more
to do with each other than “Christian” and “Republican.”)
Smart aleck or not, the theme of caring for the poor, the marginalized, and the oppressed does run quite consistently throughout the Bible. There are examples in both Old and New Testaments too many to cite. One of the Old Testament options for next Sunday is an example.
Therefore because you trample on the poor and take from them levies of grain, you have built houses of hewn stone, but you shall not live in them; you have planted pleasant vineyards, but you shall not drink their wine. For I know how many are your transgressions, and how great are your sins-- you who afflict the righteous, who take a bribe, and push aside the needy in the gate. (Amos 5:11-12)
It is such a consistent theme that it leaves one wondering what hope there is for the rich.
And the most disturbing reality is that those of us in the United States find ourselves quite rich by the world’s standards. The disparities among us, which are growing, sometimes distract us from this reality. Still, almost all of us find ourselves, simply because of an accident of birth, in the very top percentiles of affluence. It is a reality well worth contemplating in this election year as a person of faith, Republican or Democrat.
So in light of what Amos and so much else in the Bible have to say about the rich, those who push aside the needy, even if only by circumstance, and God’s priorities, where does that leave us? There is reason for hope.
The gospel reading for Sunday (Mk. 10:17-31) is about an encounter between Jesus and an unnamed character. Based on the parallels to the story in Matthew and Luke we often refer to him as the rich young ruler. In Mark, however, he is simply “a man.” He has obviously been paying attention to Jesus’ teaching, perhaps following him around Galilee, maybe from a distance. He asks, “"Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (v.17) I find myself wondering if, given his station in life, which Mark describes as having “many possessions,” he has not begun to get the message of God’s special care for the poor and wondering where that leaves him.
Jesus gives him two levels of response. The first is like an introductory course. Jesus refers him to the commandments. When the man asks for more, Jesus gives him the advanced course, the fuller and more difficult answer, an elaboration on what it means to obey the commandments. “Jesus, looking at him, 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.’” (v. 21) The man’s response points out the difficulty of the teaching, at least for the affluent. “When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.” (v. 22)
Jesus’ answer is indeed shocking, disturbingly so. It is not difficult to hear the significance of what Jesus said for ourselves.
What may be more difficult, however, is to see the hope. First, there is this important affirmation. Jesus looked at the wealthy man and loved him. God, I believe, has a particular concern for the poor and expects us to have the same concern and act on it. But that does not mean God is preferential in love. God loves us as well. Indeed, Jesus is sent to seek the lost, and perhaps that indicates a certain preference for people such as us, at least in this regard.
It follows that the shockingly difficult teaching is offered in love. It is difficult, but it is loving. It is loving for one thing because it is true. It is hardly ever loving to hold back the truth, and certainly not when life depends on it. And it is more than loving. It can be read as expressing a certain confidence. The teaching is offered in the confidence that it is possible to attempt to live accordingly. It is not dangling something before us to tease us. Jesus would not offer what is difficult without some confidence in us.
When Jesus goes on to speak to his disciples about this encounter privately, things get even more hopeful. He acknowledges the extreme difficulty of what he has asked. “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” (vv. 24-25). Jesus knows he is asking something difficult.
Indeed, Jesus knows he is asking something more than difficult. The disciples ask the obvious question for us, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus answers with even more hope. “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” (vv.26-27) For God, even our salvation is possible. All in all, that’s not a bad thing to have hope in.
And perhaps the final word of hope comes in the way the story ends. Jesus reminds his disciples of that preferential option for the poor again in a saying he repeats with some regularity. “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” (v. 31) It may not appear like the best news at first, but I wonder if that is because we’re looking at it from the perspective of people who are used to being first and missing the implication. The implication is that, while many who are first will be last, being last means, at the end, being included. Even the rich are included in God’s grace. In the end, the preferential option is for humanity.
Smart aleck or not, the theme of caring for the poor, the marginalized, and the oppressed does run quite consistently throughout the Bible. There are examples in both Old and New Testaments too many to cite. One of the Old Testament options for next Sunday is an example.
Therefore because you trample on the poor and take from them levies of grain, you have built houses of hewn stone, but you shall not live in them; you have planted pleasant vineyards, but you shall not drink their wine. For I know how many are your transgressions, and how great are your sins-- you who afflict the righteous, who take a bribe, and push aside the needy in the gate. (Amos 5:11-12)
It is such a consistent theme that it leaves one wondering what hope there is for the rich.
And the most disturbing reality is that those of us in the United States find ourselves quite rich by the world’s standards. The disparities among us, which are growing, sometimes distract us from this reality. Still, almost all of us find ourselves, simply because of an accident of birth, in the very top percentiles of affluence. It is a reality well worth contemplating in this election year as a person of faith, Republican or Democrat.
So in light of what Amos and so much else in the Bible have to say about the rich, those who push aside the needy, even if only by circumstance, and God’s priorities, where does that leave us? There is reason for hope.
The gospel reading for Sunday (Mk. 10:17-31) is about an encounter between Jesus and an unnamed character. Based on the parallels to the story in Matthew and Luke we often refer to him as the rich young ruler. In Mark, however, he is simply “a man.” He has obviously been paying attention to Jesus’ teaching, perhaps following him around Galilee, maybe from a distance. He asks, “"Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (v.17) I find myself wondering if, given his station in life, which Mark describes as having “many possessions,” he has not begun to get the message of God’s special care for the poor and wondering where that leaves him.
Jesus gives him two levels of response. The first is like an introductory course. Jesus refers him to the commandments. When the man asks for more, Jesus gives him the advanced course, the fuller and more difficult answer, an elaboration on what it means to obey the commandments. “Jesus, looking at him, 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.’” (v. 21) The man’s response points out the difficulty of the teaching, at least for the affluent. “When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.” (v. 22)
Jesus’ answer is indeed shocking, disturbingly so. It is not difficult to hear the significance of what Jesus said for ourselves.
What may be more difficult, however, is to see the hope. First, there is this important affirmation. Jesus looked at the wealthy man and loved him. God, I believe, has a particular concern for the poor and expects us to have the same concern and act on it. But that does not mean God is preferential in love. God loves us as well. Indeed, Jesus is sent to seek the lost, and perhaps that indicates a certain preference for people such as us, at least in this regard.
It follows that the shockingly difficult teaching is offered in love. It is difficult, but it is loving. It is loving for one thing because it is true. It is hardly ever loving to hold back the truth, and certainly not when life depends on it. And it is more than loving. It can be read as expressing a certain confidence. The teaching is offered in the confidence that it is possible to attempt to live accordingly. It is not dangling something before us to tease us. Jesus would not offer what is difficult without some confidence in us.
When Jesus goes on to speak to his disciples about this encounter privately, things get even more hopeful. He acknowledges the extreme difficulty of what he has asked. “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” (vv. 24-25). Jesus knows he is asking something difficult.
Indeed, Jesus knows he is asking something more than difficult. The disciples ask the obvious question for us, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus answers with even more hope. “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” (vv.26-27) For God, even our salvation is possible. All in all, that’s not a bad thing to have hope in.
And perhaps the final word of hope comes in the way the story ends. Jesus reminds his disciples of that preferential option for the poor again in a saying he repeats with some regularity. “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” (v. 31) It may not appear like the best news at first, but I wonder if that is because we’re looking at it from the perspective of people who are used to being first and missing the implication. The implication is that, while many who are first will be last, being last means, at the end, being included. Even the rich are included in God’s grace. In the end, the preferential option is for humanity.
Peace,
+Stacy
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