Sermon: "Threading the Needle"

Scripture Intro - Mark 10:17-31

17This is the passage where the rich man runs up to Jesus and says, “Teacher, what must I do to experience eternal life?” and Jesus responds by saying, “Sell all that you have and give the money to the poor…for 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."

This passage has successfully caused Christians to squirm in their pews for over 2,000 years, so if you’re feeling a little uncomfortable right now you’re in good company. 

First of all, this is a passage about money, which for some automatically puts it in the category of “things we shouldn’t talk about in church” – it’s right up there with politics and the discussion over whether we need to order new hymnals. 

Second, the passage sets up the impractical and nearly impossible requirement that to be considered a “good Christian” we must empty our bank accounts and sell all that we have in support of the poor – keeping nothing to support ourselves or our families, and essentially becoming poor ourselves in the process.

And third, was Jesus really serious about it being easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a wealthy person to enter into the Kingdom of God? What defines wealth? How much is too much? And why would a God who offers us such a wide and unconditional gift of love and grace, then offer us such a narrow entrance into the Kingdom in which we all long to be?

For 2,000 years, people and preachers in particular, have been deftly dancing around this text in an effort to explain what it says, and what it doesn’t say – trying to push that camel through the needle to make it work in our favor. 

But just as with threading a needle, it takes more than keen eye and a steady hand to make it work, we also must rely on our depth perception – our ability to gauge the distance between where we are, and where we’re intending to go, and then consider what it will take to get there. 

 

The Rev. Maureen R. Frescott

Congregational Church of Amherst, UCC

October 14, 2018 – Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 10:17-31

“Threading the Needle”

Sometime in the late 12^th century, an Italian merchant named Pietro di Bernardone returned home to his family after a successful business trip to neighboring France.

Pietro was a dealer in expensive fabrics and fine cloths - which made him a wealthy man, but took him away from his home quite often.

While he was away, his wife Pica had given birth, to a son she named Giovanni.

Giovanni lived the life of a rich man’s son. Never wanting for anything.

As a young man, he was worldly, handsome and witty,

and he had an insatiable taste for expensive clothing, good food, fine wines, and popular music.

He and his wealthy friends took to following the local Troubadours around the country, spending their money lavishly, and enjoying all the pleasures of life along the way.

One day while he was selling his father’s silk and velvet in the local marketplace, Giovanni was approached by a beggar –

a man dressed in rags, and covered in dirt from head to toe.

Naturally, the young merchant shoed the beggar away, out of fear that he might scare off some the more well-to-do customers.

But after he did so, something stirred in Giovanni’s heart.

Something that made him leave his father’s shop, and chase after the beggar, and when he found him, Giovanni emptied his pockets, giving the man all the money that he carried with him.

This impulsive act of kindness made Giovanni’s father furious.

Not only had his son left the expensive wares unattended, but he had given away the day’s profits to a stranger on the street, a man who was likely an undeserving con-artist preying on the weak will of fools. 

We can’t know for sure what lit a fire in Giovanni’s heart that day.

It may have been the look in the man’s eyes as he was chased away,

or the subsequent look he gave Giovanni as he took hold of the man’s dirty hand and filled it with coins.

There may also have been a touch of a rebellious streak that was stoked in this young rich man that day,

as he discovered something that made him different from his father, something that made him different from most of similar wealth and status.

Giovanni continued to be drawn to spontaneous acts of generosity,

using the family money to help restore a church and feed the poor,

and in doing so he continued to anger his father.

Eventually, Pietro dragged his son into court, to force him to either repay his debt or renounce his inheritance,

but Giovanni stunned everyone present by removing all of his clothing – the fine silks his father had given him as an incentive the night before – and then  dramatically handing the pile of clothing to his father, while vowing to live the rest of his life in poverty and in aid of the poor.

Historically, we’ve come to know Giovanni by his other name, the one given to him by his father during the first year of his life  - Francesco or Frances,

which in Italian means “Frenchman” – and likely reflected his father’s love of the country and the people who made him a rich man.

Today, we know him as St. Francis of Assisi.

Arguably the most well known example of someone who has lived out Jesus’ response to the rich man seeking eternal life –  who was told to

“Sell all that you have, and give the money to the poor.”

St. Francis was not the only one to do this of course.

Throughout the ages there have been a multitude of saints, monks, nuns, and other monastic men and women, of all faiths, who’ve walked away from wealth and comfort to embrace a life of poverty, piety, and service to others.

We admire them for their faith and fortitude.

We lift them up and revere them as examples of true discipleship.

We may even silently envy them, or dismiss them, or judge them,

as eccentric outliers, who may have a touch of an obsessive personality –

to go to such an extreme to observe a religious conviction.

We may also imagine, given what Jesus says in Mark’s gospel,

that St. Francis, and those like him, have surely gained entrance into the Kingdom of God.

By letting go of all they have, they’ve managed to squeeze through the Eye of the Needle.     Earning the prize that many have longed for.

But where does that leave the rest of us?

Those of us who live good Christian lives without going to such extremes?

Those of us who give to the poor out of our abundance but still hold onto our homes, and cars, and 401Ks,

not to mention our flat screen TV’s, our wireless and cell phone plans,

and our vacation excursions,

that we sometimes have to stretch to afford, yet are reluctant to forgo.

How do we dance around these words of Jesus to make them not applicable to us, regardless of how much – or how little we have - in comparison to others?

But what if I told you this text is not just about money and personal wealth?

That it’s about so much more than that?

Wealth is not held in a vacuum.

It brings with it status, power, and privilege.

In Jesus’ time, and in our time, those who have money are revered, respected, and are given freedom of choice, movement, and expression

in a way that those who lack wealth are rarely given.

Wealth provides access to health care, education, and representation in the political process, and the justice system, at a level that those without wealth rarely experience.

Money can’t buy happiness.

But it provides a plethora of privileges and perks that many of us are unwilling to give up once we have them.

So, when Jesus says to the rich man,

“Sell all that you have and give all that you have to the poor” 

he was not only asking him to give up his money and his possessions,

but also his privilege, his power, his position in life.

To reduce himself to the level of those who held no power, who had no privilege, who occupied the lowest positions on the status scale.

Note that the Gospel writer tells us that when the man heard this,

“He was shocked and he went away grieving.”

This is a normal human reaction.

We often think about grieving in terms of losing a loved one.

But grieving is something we do whenever we lose something that we value,  something that gives our life purpose or meaning.

A job – a relationship – a dream of a better future –

or a longing for the way things used to be.

We also grieve when we feel like were losing our sense of control,

our sense of security, our sense of certainty, or our sense of self.

When the rich man asks Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life – to enter into the Kingdom of God?”

Jesus says, “You have to give it all away. All of it.”

All that anchors us in this world, the world we know,

but keeps us from living into God’s world –the world we struggle to imagine.

The systems of power and privilege and position that we participate in within this world do not exist in God’s world.

So to experience God’s world, we have to give it all away.

Let it all go.

But we resist doing so, especially if we’re one who benefits from systems of power and privilege and position,

because we don’t realize that what God promises to give us all in return is so much more valuable.

This is the promise that Jesus offers his disciples over and over again.

He says, I’m asking you to walk away from your livelihoods, your families and your communities –

the bloodlines and nationalities and identities that define you –

but in return you’ll be given a new identity, a new family, a new community.

A community of Christ – A Kingdom of God - that includes all.

In walking the way of Christ we’re repeatedly called to step away from our old life and are invited to embrace a new life.

But in that stepping away, there is loss, and there is grief.

And in that loss we may experience some or all of the identified stages of grieving – denial, anger, bargaining, depression - and ultimately, acceptance.

We see this playing out in our world wherever power and privilege is challenged – where those who have it and those who want it push and pull against one another and lash out in anger,

denying the pain and struggle of the other,

bargaining for position by giving up and digging in,

sinking into depression when it feels like everything is changing and nothing is changing, depending on our perspective,

and regardless of where we fall, we feel all of it is out of our control.

Getting to the stage of acceptance is to glimpse the Kingdom of God.

Where we finally see that there is no us and them,

That letting go is about reaching out and lifting up.

That giving away what we have, is about gaining so much more.

The Kingdom of God is a wide and expansive place.

Much bigger and broader than our narrow perceptions allow us to see.

But we can’t see it and we can’t get there as long as we’re carrying all the stuff of this world – not just our wealth, or our status, privilege and power –  but also our fear, our certainty, our resistance to feeling the pain of another - everything that keeps us separated and elevated and out of alignment with the way of Christ.

Trying to envision the Kingdom of God while we’re carrying all this stuff that we think inflates our worth, our value - in this world and in God’s world,

is like trying to fit a camel through the eye of a needle.

The good news is that as we begin to let go –

and work our way through the anger and denial and resistance of grief,

we start to notice that we value has changed.

We come to value mercy, love, compassion, and grace.

And when we encounter someone pushing against systems of power, privilege, and position, instead of resisting, we push with them.

So that we might all experience the Kingdom of God, together.

Thanks be to God, and Amen.