LENT 1 - NOW - we turn from riches
Mark 10:17-31
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It’s a common claim among Christians, almost a truism.
At least we feel it to be true, even if we never really question it.
And that claim is this:
“We’re better off than the first disciples,
because we know the rest of the story.”
You’ve heard that, right?
We know, now, that Jesus wasn’t really trying
to take over the political throne of Herod.
We know, now, that the kingdom is a much bigger thing
than any earthly realm.
We know, now, that resurrection followed crucifixion.
We know, now, that the Holy Spirit is poured out on Jesus-followers,
and we have with us, eternally, the spirit of Jesus.
We now have the inspired epistles of the apostles,
and these writings are to us, now, scripture.
We know so much more about the nature of Jesus
and of the kingdom of God.
We know the end game.
So aren’t we glad we’re not in the position
of Peter, James, and John, and company,
who had to bumble along without knowing everything
that we are now in a position to know?
In the Gospels, when we read that
the disciples innocently say something to Jesus
that we know is silly or short-sighted,
and we chuckle and give them a pass.
Well, they just didn’t know what we know now.
Hmmm...
Is following Jesus really easier today, knowing what we know?
Are we doing a better job
of “getting Jesus” than they did?
of understanding who Jesus was?
of knowing what he wanted of us as followers?
I don’t think so.
I think if we disciples today measured ourselves honestly
against the disciples who walked with Jesus in Galilee,
I think we would have to admit at least two things.
One –
if we had been there with them,
we would have done no better than they did.
Two –
even today, with our fuller picture of Jesus,
our attempts to follow Jesus are often
even more anemic and bumbling than theirs.
But there’s no good reason to even compare or keep score.
No matter when, where, and in what cultural context,
following Jesus is hard. Really hard.
So…take today’s Gospel reading.
What does it mean to “sell all and follow me”?
Why is it hard for the wealthy to enter the kingdom of God?
And what about “leaving everything”
including house, mother, brother…”?
When Jesus said those things in Mark 10, it tells us, in verse 24,
“The disciples were perplexed at these words.”
If those words are just as confounding today,
and I think they are—
then I think it’s safe to say not much has changed since Mark.
The disciples are still perplexed.
_____________________
So what is the first step toward understanding
how we might live out these teachings of Jesus today?
Maybe, it’s to think more deeply
about what those words might have meant
to the disciples that actually walked with Jesus in Galilee.
And maybe, even more importantly,
what it might have meant to the Jesus followers
who first heard this Gospel of Mark read to them,
and for whom it was probably written.
If you recall, when I first introduced this book a little over a month ago,
there is a presumed origin story of this Gospel,
and its social and political context.
Many scholars speculate that the Gospel took shape
under the influence of the preaching of the apostle Peter,
written down by Peter’s secretary and interpreter John Mark,
while both of them were residing in Rome,
the capital city and center of political and military power
for the Roman Empire.
And the time frame was somewhere around 65 AD,
during the so-called Jewish-Roman War,
or more accurately, the Roman oppression,
and genocidal attack against the Jewish people,
and the city of Jerusalem.
It wasn’t really a war between equal opponents.
And based on the kind of narrative details Mark includes—
or doesn’t include—
we can assume the intended audience are Gentile Roman citizens.
Now what would it have taken, do you suppose,
to persuade Gentile Roman citizens
who were presumably living fairly secure lives,
to become devoted disciples of Jesus of Nazareth—
Jesus, the charismatic leader of a Jewish sect,
who started a movement and got himself executed
by Roman authorities in Jerusalem
a few decades earlier,
and whose followers were to this day being persecuted
all over the Mediterranean world.
Put yourself in their shoes.
You are a protected citizen of the Roman Empire.
What would it take for you to jump ship,
and declare you are now on the side
of those your emperor is waging war against?
And not just to join the Jewish cause in general,
but specifically to join a Jewish sect,
that even mainstream Judaism did not recognize or support.
Talk about making yourself vulnerable.
And just to add to that mess,
you’d be making yourself persona non grata,
cutting yourself off from your neighbors, your family,
your ability to earn a living.
What would it take for you, in that situation,
to sign on as a Jesus-follower?
Those are the shoes we should put on, in our imagination,
when we delve into the Gospel of Mark.
Those are the imaginary shoes we should be wearing,
when we hear Jesus say to the young man
who had many possessions—
“Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor,
and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
And listen to these words, with the ears of a secure Roman citizen,
who enjoys social and financial security:
“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.”
Yes, indeed. It would be hard for said Roman citizen,
to throw every security on the line, and follow Jesus.
And that part about leaving everything behind—
house and brothers and sisters and mother and father
and children and fields for Jesus’ sake
and for the sake of the good news?
Jesus is not exaggerating to make a point.
That is not a hypothetical situation.
That is literally what it would have meant,
for the first intended readers of the Gospel of Mark,
to say yes to Jesus.
They would have had to leave everything,
because following Jesus would have, by definition,
cut them off from their present lives.
Then Peter replies to Jesus,
“Look, we have left everything and followed you.”
Of course, we remember that story where Peter and company
left their boats and nets and walked away.
I imagine that story got repeated a lot in Peter’s preaching,
as he made his way around the Roman Empire.
Not to build exalt himself or to boast.
But to encourage his listeners.
He knew very well that for them to join the Jesus movement,
would be just as much of a sacrifice.
So he’s saying,
“Many others, including myself,
have already chosen this path.
And despite the cost, we highly recommend it.
The life you get in return is worth it all.”
Everything you give up, you will get back in return—
in this life and the next.
A hundred-fold, Mark says in v. 30,
a hundred times as many siblings and parents
and households as you walked away from.
This is a hard teaching, no?
The disciples are still perplexed.
I am still perplexed, to be perfectly honest.
It’s hard to know how to make this a Gospel word for my life.
I know how Christians today tend to work with these texts.
They take one of two approaches.
Either they take it quite literally,
and assume that true followers will indeed sell off everything,
and choose a life of poverty and communalism.
The model to emulate are monks and nuns
who at least since the 5th century,
have been taking vows of poverty,
selling off all personal property,
and living in full community.
Or . . . they dismiss it as impractical for modern life and culture.
No, we aren’t expected to sell everything and live as paupers.
We are being asked to be good stewards,
to be generous with what we have,
to share widely, and to put our wealth to good purposes.
Neither of those approaches impress me
as capturing the heart of the Gospel,
the essence of what Jesus wants from us as disciples.
One makes the barrier so high,
that very few can reasonably say yes to Jesus.
The other makes it so low,
that saying yes to Jesus doesn’t really cost very much,
it just means you do good things in life.
I think the core of the message here
is that following Jesus is hard.
It does involve holding lightly
to those things that make us feel safe and secure—
an abundance of possessions,
financial wealth,
social respect and prestige,
spacious and comfortable and safe homes,
available time and resources for recreation and travel,
the things most of us strive for.
I’ll be honest.
All of that describes me.
And Mennonite pastors are not typically criticized
for their excessive wealth and leisure.
So the burden is on me, to continually ask myself,
whether my comfort, my security, my social position,
is making it difficult to say a clear “yes”
to going where Jesus is going,
because that’s what following Jesus means—
going where Jesus is going.
Am I listening carefully, and seeing clearly,
where the Gospel of Jesus is moving in our world today?
And am I quick to find excuses not to go there,
because I can’t take the risk?
It might put my job and reputation on the line.
It might cut into my retirement fund,
or endanger my grandchildren’s inheritance.
Other people won’t understand or support me.
You know, I’m simply not going to speculate
for anyone in my hearing,
what it means for you to follow Jesus in your own context.
You’ll need to comes to terms with your own life and priorities,
and ask yourself the same question,
whether you are living with the courage of Peter,
and dropping your nets, your safety nets,
whatever those are for you,
and saying, yes, it’s worth the risk to lay these down,
and take the next step in following Jesus.
Following Jesus is more than being a morally good person.
To take Jesus seriously, still takes a lot of courage.
But be of good courage!
The securities you give up,
may just come back to you a hundred-fold.
Grace and peace to you all.
—Phil Kniss, February 18, 2024
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