As Jesus was setting out on a journey, a man ran up,
knelt down before him, and asked him,
“Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus answered him, “Why do you call me good?
No one is good but God alone.
You know the commandments: You shall not kill;
you shall not commit adultery;
you shall not steal;
you shall not bear false witness;
you shall not defraud;
honor your father and your mother.”
He replied and said to him,
“Teacher, all of these I have observed from my youth.”
Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said to him,
“You are lacking in one thing.
Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor
and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
At that statement his face fell,
and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.
Jesus looked around and said to his disciples,
“How hard it is for those who have wealth
to enter the kingdom of God!”
The disciples were amazed at his words.
So Jesus again said to them in reply,
“Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God!
It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle
than for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
They were exceedingly astonished and said among themselves,
“Then who can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them and said,
“For human beings it is impossible, but not for God.
All things are possible for God.”
Mark 10:17-27, excerpt from Sunday’s Gospel
So, why does the man call Jesus “good”? And why does Jesus ask the man why, but not wait for a reply?
Mark’s version of this incident, it appears to me, shows the man as an American: in a hurry, already a possessor of lots of “stuff,” and looking for a quick “20 Tips to Success” handbook boost to getting even farther ahead. He’s already got the convertible, the vacation home, the respect of his peers—he just wants a little more certainty about having it all permanently. He’s seen and heard enough about Jesus to realize that he’s dealing with a remarkable teacher, a really good one.
Jesus responds to him with a question of his own—“why do you call me good” and injecting the ultimate source of all goodness, of all “ALL,” by referring it to his Father who gave us the commandments. He does this to slow the man down and to subtly imply that the man is leaving out something essential. Notice Jesus outlines several commandments having to do with treatment of our neighbors but ignores the commandments that govern relations with his heavenly Father, while himself pointing directly to God as THE good. The man does not notice this omission but claims to have been an upstanding Jew since his coming of age.
At this key point Jesus “looks at him with love” or, as another translation put it “warmed to him”—and puts his finger right on the sore spot. The man is rich, and what he is really looking for from Jesus is approval to do what he has always done, and to be assured that that will keep him on the right side of the ledger for gaining everlasting life. One of the oldest and most widespread dodges there is, it boils down to this: “please approve of me, don’t ask too much of me, but above all, let me keep my wealth until I die and you welcome me into heaven.”
(If you have never had that thought or its equivalent, you may stop reading now—the rest of this post is wasted on you. I needed it.)
Jesus merely points out that the man does have the power, now, to get the results he ultimately wants: he can use his property, now, for people who badly need it now, and turn that into credit for himself in heaven. Dying with all his assets in the bank account he is leaving behind on earth can hardly add to his credit with God. Give it to poor people, now, and it does give him credit in heaven—and God’s payback to is of infinite value. Do this now, Jesus tells him, and you are ready to follow me.
Jesus sets the example here—he has no property, “no place to lay his head.” (Matthew 8:19-20) He is free, relying moment-by-moment only on what his Father provides for him, while the rich man is bound to his property. Jesus is speaking to a particular man here, and he knows exactly what that man needs. As the rest of the reading makes clear, Jesus expects this of his Apostles, too. Giving up all property all the time is not his instruction for everyone—but all of us need to realize the dangers of whatever level of riches we do have, so that God can help us do the apparently impossible with it—turn worldly wealth into heavenly treasure.
Keeping the commandments should flow naturally from honoring the one we claim as Father. But Jesus puts the priorities in order: there is one hunger in human life that runs deeper than any other, and it has prompted the rich man here, though he does not recognize it clearly. We are born with the hunger to understand our origin, our purpose, our ultimate destiny. We sense we should relate properly to our ultimate origin. How do we work this out in the messy world we find ourselves in? Where can we look for direction?
Here is One who says, “Come, follow me.” He is the face and the words of our Father-God in human form. If we make following him our first priority, then keeping the Commandments and what we do with our money will follow in their intended order.
For further reflection:
In the rest of the Gospel reading, Peter speaks for the disciples when he reminds Jesus that he (Peter) and the other Jesus chose have given up their normal secular livelihoods and taken leave of their home grounds and their relatives. What may they expect?
Jesus says that the Kingdom will begin to be manifest in their lives throughout their time of ministry (“this age”) as well as in heavenly glory (“the age to come”). They have left normal family life behind, but they will have an intensified form of it as they live out their ministry–with deep and unexpected relationships, great joys and healings as they bring men, women, and children into right relationship with God. (Our young pastor testified to this in his own life during his sermon on this reading last Sunday).
“With persecutions” Jesus adds, because in this world, all those good, intensified things take place under battlefield conditions.
Be not afraid.