disclosing new worlds

Job 42: 1-6; 10-17
Psalm 34: 1-8; 19-22
Hebrews 7: 23-28
Mark 10: 46-52

This is the second occasion in a short space of time on which Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” The first is in response to a request from James and John (10:35-6); the second is in response to the desperate call of blind Bartimaeus: “Son of David, have mercy on me!” (10:47). The location is important: it’s the last significant stopping place before arrival at Jerusalem. Mark, remember, uses geography symbolically. The steep ascent from the Galilee to Jerusalem – the occasion for Jesus teaching his disciples about the Way of the Cross – mirrors the climb up Golgotha to crucifixion and death. These stopping places are the stations of the cross: time to pause and enter into the enormity of what is happening. It is the road of discipleship – the place of following. The further they travel it, the more the discipleship narrative unravels. The closer they draw to Jerusalem, the stiffer the resistance of The Twelve to the Way of the Cross becomes. And here, in the last stopping place before Jerusalem, the nature of true discipleship is shown, not through Jesus’ teaching, but through an encounter with a man who has become blind.

From the gutter-dweller to hero of faith
Here’s Mark at his subversive best: a marginalised, blind beggar, sitting in the dust, unnoticed by the excited crowd, is heard by Jesus. In the hubbub of excitement, the excited chatter and the shouts, the voice that Jesus hears is the one the crowds are trying to silence.

Look at v48. The people “sternly ordered” (epetimōn autō) Bartimaeus to be quiet. That’s the same word that is used when Mark describes the disciples’ attempts to prevent the people bringing their children to Jesus (10:13). See the pattern? The would-be door-keepers around Jesus – the “bouncers” –try to decide who is worthy to approach Jesus. In each case, the incident follows a discussion about greatness. Earlier in the chapter, Jesus has used a child to deconstruct notions of greatness. Here, immediately after James’ and John’s request, we find a blind beggar – someone isolated socially, spiritually and, in this incident, physically. He’s literally sitting behind a wall of people who stand between him and Jesus, unable to “see” Jesus on two counts: the crowds block his view, and, of course, because he’s blind! He’s voiceless too – not because he cannot shout, but because the people do not allow his voice to be heard. They address him with a “stern rebuke” to be quiet – just as an exorcist would address a demon.

Just as Jesus has earlier told the would-be gatekeepers to allow the children to come to him, and told them (shockingly) that the kingdom, in fact, belongs to them, and that any would-be disciple (as opposed to gatekeeper!) needs to become like them, so now Jesus “stands still” and calls Bartimaeus to him.

What is the significance of Jesus “standing still”? The point is that he has stopped – on the way to Jerusalem. This is a “station of the cross”. It’s a clue for the readers: Jesus is about to teach us more about the nature of discipleship and the Way of the Cross. What is shocking is that Jesus’ “teaching” here consists in hearing the voice the crowds are trying to muzzle and demanding that they make visible the very person they are trying to make invisible (“Call him here”). What is Jesus teaching his disciples? Actually, nothing! This is not an instance of Jesus drawing The Twelve aside and teaching them about the Way of the Cross! 10:42-45 is the last time that Jesus teaches his disciples about the Way. Here, Jesus doesn’t teach. He heals. And the healed blind beggar ends up “following Jesus on the Way” (10:52).

What’s going on here? Jesus’ teaching on the Way of the Cross finishes with “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many” (10:45). Bartimaeus shows two things: firstly, he shows clearly that the disciples have not understood what Jesus is on about! Bartimaeus is one of the people they try to exclude. He isn’t reckoned to be among “the many” for whom Jesus will give his life. Yet his is the voice that Jesus hears. He “stops” in Jericho only for this man – in response to the cry for help. The Way of the Cross is “bad news” for those who, like the rich man, have everything invested in the status quo. To those like Bartimaeus, excluded and unwanted, the Son of Man comes as a servant. The message of the kingdom is a gift, to be accepted with joy.

Secondly, we’re clearly supposed to understand that Bartimaeus is a true disciple of the Way of the Cross. Jesus doesn’t call him – in fact, he sends him on his way. Bartimaeus chooses to follow him. At the same time, the disciples whom Jesus has called have failed to understand. They will accompany Jesus to Jerusalem, but their abandonment of him shows that they are not “followers”. Mark, in other words, portrays Jesus as having “stopped” on two levels: he has (literally) “stopped” on his journey, and he has “stopped” teaching The Twelve about the Way. There is nothing left to say. The disciples have “seen” the Way, but remain wilfully blind to it. There is nothing left for Jesus to teach. He is not going to change their minds. So, rather than have Jesus say more about the Way, Mark portrays this as incident in which true discipleship is enacted – by a blind man who yearns to see.

Mark portrays Bartimaeus, therefore, as a role model; a summary of all that Jesus has being trying (unsuccessfully) to teach The Twelve. He belongs in the same category as the children whom the disciples try to keep from Jesus: the marginalised, excluded people whom society considers worthless and who are “the first” in kingdom terms. In contrast to the rich man who cannot abandon his possessions, Bartimaeus throws aside his only possession (his cloak) in order to get to Jesus (10:50). He does so gladly! And, unlike the disciples who are wilfully blind to the Way of the Cross, he desperately wants to see.

“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Look at where Mark places this pericope in the narrative. On the one side it is bounded by the request of James and John for power. On the other, Mark places the Triumphal Entry. It’s important to look the implication of the narrative structure here.

“My teacher, let me see again”
Jesus asks both the brothers and Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” The brothers ask something that Jesus is unable to give: power. Power is not Jesus’ to give, because Jesus has renounced the way of power in embracing the Way of the Cross. Their request shows that the brothers are blind to who Jesus is. Bartimaeus, by contrast, asks for what Jesus can give: mercy and sight. “Have mercy” is answered by Jesus’ “Call him here.” “What do you want me to do for you?” “Let me see again” is answered by Jesus’ pronouncement: “Your faith has made you well”.

Note, too, that both the brothers and Bartimaeus address Jesus as “teacher”. This isn’t accidental. Jesus has been teaching them about the Way of the Cross. The disciples, however, haven’t been learning! That is why they ask for something Jesus cannot give. Bartimaeus addresses Jesus as “my teacher”. It’s very personal. Bartimaeus has learned from Jesus. But what has he learned, and how? He has heard about Jesus – about the healings, exorcisms and the shocking stuff Jesus has been saying about the least being first. And because he is one of the least, he has “learned” about the God Jesus is revealing. Jesus’ God is a God of love and mercy. Hence he understands that Jesus has come, not to condemn him, but to serve him, and give his life as a ransom for him. He recognises the gift.

“Son of David, have mercy on me”
In the following pericope, the people hail Jesus as the Son of David. The title’s right, but they’ve got the content wrong. They see “Son of David” as a designation of power. Bartimaeus sees it as affirmation of grace – that God’s messiah comes bearing the kingdom as an undreamed of gift! Even though everyone else thinks Bartimaeus has no right to try and involve Jesus in his life, Bartimaeus knows that it’s okay to call out to Jesus – because Jesus is the King of Mercy! Bartimaeus, in other words, is here not only as an example of discipleship: it is his acclamation of Jesus as king that is the true reception of Jesus. Jesus is going to Jerusalem as king – but the people do not recognise what sort of king. Bartimaeus does!

Jesus and the God of mercy (Job 42: 1-6; 10-17/Hebrews 7: 23-28)
What are we to make of this week’s other readings? In and of themselves, they each conclude and important section of the book. The passage from Job is the conclusion to the story. The verses from Hebrews conclude the author’s section on Jesus as High Priest. He will change gear in the next verses and look at the implications for the new covenant. Today’s readings are all about summaries and conclusions.

In the context of the Lectionary readings, there is a clear link between the story of Bartimaeus and Job 42: 5 – “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you”. Bartimaeus had heard of Jesus, but his encounter results in seeing him. Job had not understood what he had heard from Yahweh and about Yahweh; his encounter (such as it is!) with Yahweh provokes an “Ah! Now I see!” reaction. And significantly, Job’s response of faith “heals” him: his fortunes are restored.

There is a parallel, too, in Job’s “priestly” role vis-a-vis his friends. Job. Job prays to Yahweh for his friends, asking Yahweh “not to deal with them according to their folly” (v8). They, like the disciples and the Jerusalem crowds, have “have not spoken of Yahweh what is right” (unlike Job). Yet Job understands their “folly” because he is a human being like they are – and because they are his friends! This is precisely the picture of Jesus as High Priest that the writer to the Hebrews has painted. Jesus is “like us”. He knows us and loves us. He knows our weaknesses and is therefore sympathetic rather than condemnatory. His “instinct” is to plead on our behalf rather than for his own vindication and our condemnation. And, like Job in the story, he alone is “true”. He is “perfect”. He has no need to plead on his own behalf but can devote all his energies to our cause!

Yet there is a strong contrast as well as a parallel. Job’s response to “seeing” Yahweh is given in verse 6: “Therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes”. There’s an “Old Testament/New Testament” thing going on here (and I use the terms “Old” and “New” quite deliberately, because we are supposed to understand something entirely “new” about God through Jesus). Bartimaeus doesn’t “despise himself”, but responds joyfully! What Bartimaeus understands about Jesus is that Jesus is primarily about mercy! This section of the gospel has been about power. Jesus has power – but it isn’t the sort that the disciples are after. That sort of power is annihilative. The power of love and mercy is transformative and Life-giving.

Job is confronted with Yahweh’s “naked” power, and his response is the “worthless worm” sort of spirituality and theology. “I am a miserable wretch, a filthy sinner, utterly unworthy etc”. Now, these things may indeed be true, but what we are supposed to understand in Jesus is that God doesn’t see us in these categories! That is a projection of our own attitudes on to God – the attitudes that bar children, menstruating women and blind beggars from Jesus because they are apparently “unworthy”. Yet God in Jesus welcomes them joyfully! In terms of the Parable of the Lost Son, God sees people in terms of “lost children”, not “filthy sinners”! God looks through the eyes of love that grieve and weep for the lost, not through the eyes of power and self-vindication that despise and condemn. We have much to learn from Jesus about he spirituality of grace!

Not missing the point …
Today’s gospel passage is saturated in symbol. It’s a brilliant piece of narrative construction, and once you start seeing the links, it’s difficult to stop! However, the cleverness of the narrative mustn’t be allowed to distract from the fact that this is also an intensely human drama! This is a story of a blind man who has given up all hope of seeing again. He is in reduced circumstances: he has lost his sight, and with it his place in the order of things. He is a nobody. It’s easy to imagine how hard he has had to fight against “If only …” – in that way lies bitterness and despair.

But he has heard about Jesus of Nazareth. Like a starving man, he has wolfed down the stories of Jesus’ healings and extraordinary care for people – people like him! And now he hears that Jesus is in town – is about to pass the very place where he’s sitting! The “if onlys” come in full flood! If only he can get to Jesus! If only Jesus will hear him … and stop … and …”

We ought to imagine his desperation – the desperation that makes him flout convention, risk angering the very people on whose handouts his life is utterly dependent, and which makes him just keep on shouting louder and louder, “Jesus! Son of David! Please! Over here – have mercy on me!”

And we ought to imagine being Bartimaeus – being led to Jesus; being told to take courage because he’s calling … for him! And then hearing those words from the lips of Jesus: “Tell me, what is it you want me to do for you?” Those words from the lips of the only man who can actually do what Bartimaeus wants with all his soul!

And let’s imagine him opening his eyes – seeing again for the first time in God knows how many years – and seeing Jesus. Yes, let’s look at the narrative and see how cleverly constructed it is; how deep; how it articulates so much of what Jesus is teaching. But let’s hear the story with our hearts, because it’s meant to be heard like that. Let’s, with Bartimaeus, open our eyes and “see” Jesus! And let’s respond with the same abandon and joy.

Amen.

Job 38: 1-7; 34-41 NRSV text
Hebrews 5: 1-10 NRSV text
Mark 10: 35-45 NRSV text

Poor Mark! He goes to all the trouble of carefully constructing a great story, only to have it sabotaged by the Lectionary compilers. They’ve only gone and left out the third passion prediction from today’s gospel reading, so that it appears as though the account of James’ and John’s request is a direct continuation of last week. It isn’t. We have already learned that we need to pay close attention to the narrative symbolics of geography and movement in Mark’s gospel. This section (10:32ff) opens with an interesting picture: the group is on the move again, going up to Jerusalem. Luke, you will recall, makes the journey to Jerusalem a central narrative motif to emphasise what Mark is telling us here. Ever since Caesarea Philippi (8:27ff), Jesus has been trying to impress upon an increasingly resistant group of The Twelve that this is not a journey to glory but to death. It is the Way of the Cross.

The passion predictions are a three-part “set piece”. Each adds further detail, provokes further resistance, and is the occasion for Jesus to spell out more and more clearly the implications of the Way of the Cross as the only road of true discipleship. Mark’s point is simple yet vital: the Way of the Cross is also the disintegration of the discipleship narrative. The self-sacrifice demanded by the Way means that Jesus will end up abandoned by his followers. He will face the cross utterly alone – abandoned not only by the disciples but by God! We need to look more closely at how Mark constructs his narrative at this point.

The passion predictions, resistance and the demands of discipleship

First passion prediction: Mark 8: 27-38
The first passion prediction follows immediately upon the heels of Peter’s confession of Jesus as “Messiah”. “Messiah”, you will remember, is a code word in Peter’s language for glory. Jesus says, “No, this is the way of death”. Peter’s response is to say, “No way, Jesus! Let’s stop that sort of nonsense right now!” and leads to the saying about losing one’s life in order to save it. There is no other way than through self-sacrifice and death. Everything must die precisely in order for something new to rise from its ashes.

Second passion prediction: Mark 9: 30-49
Note that each passion prediction is demarcated geographically: in 9:30 they “move on” and come to Capernaum. These stopping places are landmarks on the way to Jerusalem. The closer they get, the more the conflict between the Way of the Cross and the disciples’ expectations are thrown into sharp relief.

The second passion prediction leads to the debate about greatness, as we saw (Pentecost 16). Jesus uses the example of how the disciples rate the greatness of a child to show the contrast between “greatness” in God’s economy and his contemporary society. It’s about power – which leads immediately into the story of the unknown exorcist. The section ends with the sayings on cutting off offending parts of the body – a reference, I suggested, to child abuse, which is about precisely the wrong sort of view of the value and importance of the child that Jesus uses as an example (Pentecost 17).

The second and third passion predictions are linked by another stopping place on the way to Jerusalem: the occasion for teaching about the new family arrangements in the kingdom, receiving the gift of the kingdom as a child and the story of the rich man (Pentecost 19).

The third passion prediction: Mark 10: 32-45
This section opens with the dramatic picture of Jesus striding ahead of everyone else, being followed by crowds (including The Twelve) who, significantly, are amazed and fearful (v32). Their unease is supposed to tell us something: they are beginning to have second thoughts about following. They are dragging along behind, unwillingly. There is a sense of impending disaster that quite properly causes fear. This is the Way of the Cross – and they don’t like it one little bit!

In this context, Jesus takes The Twelve aside and is absolutely explicit about what is going to happen to him (v32b-34). There can be no doubt about what is ahead. Significantly, Jesus says that he will be handed over to the Gentiles. In other words, all of his support base will melt away. He has spent time in both the Jewish and Gentile regions around the Galilee. Yet none of the support he has found will be able to save him. Importantly, Jesus doesn’t want saving – at least in the sense that he knows that this is his mission, and is deliberately choosing the Way of the Cross. This is his purpose. This is why they are heading inexorably towards Jerusalem.

And what is the disciples’ reaction? It is to behave as though their script was the one operating! They are blind to what Jesus is telling them – wilfully blind. That is why, at the next stopping point (Jericho), Mark records the healing of Bartimaeus. Here was a blind man who anted to see; the disciples see but wish to be blind to the demands of the Way of the Cross.

“We want power”
This brings us to today’s gospel passage. James and John come to Jesus with a straightforward request: we want power. If this is about the kingdom, and Jesus is the king, then it makes perfect sense to check out the availability of key court appointments with the man himself!

What is at issue here? It’s the blindness of the disciples to the Way of the Cross! As before, the passion prediction leads on immediately to a discussion among the disciples about greatness. They’ve spectacularly misunderstood – or misheard – Jesus previously (Mark 9:35): instead of taking seriously what he had said about the first being last, and the greatest being the servant, James and John make a request to be the first! The anger of the other disciples (10:41) is not outrage at such naked bids for power, but at being outflanked: James and john beat them to it! That is why Jesus calls The Twelve to him (rather than just James and John) and explained yet again how wrong-headed their notion of power is.

In the kingdoms of the world, says Jesus, power is used to impose one’s will on others and to gain influence and respect. It is “power over”. Jesus’ power – as defined by the Way of the Cross – is the power of servanthood: “power on behalf of”. The messianic community, like the kingdom, is not hierarchical. It is a community of servanthood, love, mutual care and provision.

Why do we instinctively hiss and boo the brothers? If we’re honest, we all love power – and tend to love the powerful! That is why we are so fascinated by the detail of the lives of the rich and famous. It’s why we are motivated by promotion in the workplace and in the Church. Even in “flat”, non-hierarchical Church structures like the United Reformed Church, the lure of key positions is as strong as in more rigidly hierarchical forms of Church government. We live in a world of just deserts and rewards – the world, in other words, of “the Gentiles”. True, our best rulers are not tyrants, but the principle remains the same.

Jesus, in other words, is being radically subversive here. The contrast between the kingdom of God and the kingdoms of the world happens on two levels. There is the structural level – the way in which power is distributed in society. Power in kingdom terms is non-hierarchical. It is consensual and democratic. Yet the emphasis here in the gospel is not on the structural but on the heart. It is about intention and ambition. James and John are honest about their intentions and ambitions. They want power, and they assume Jesus wants it too. It is that common-sense, unexplored assumption that blinds them to what Jesus has told them. They may hear what Jesus says about powerlessness, but the unconscious move is to accommodate it, rather than to hear the radical departure from the norm: Jesus dos not want that sort of power! The contrast here is between their attitude and that of Jesus (as Paul writes in Philippians 2: 5-11). Jesus is “striding ahead” in a quite deliberate embrace of the powerlessness of the cross: he is going to “give his life as a ransom for many”. But this is “powerlessness” defined in terms of “power over”. There is a real power to what he is doing. It is the power of resurrection – the power that is stronger than death itself. It is the power of love. And it is power that saves!

The problem of God … (Job 38: 1-7; 34-41)
There’s a theological conflict here which we tend to duck. This is all about the kingdom of God. Yes, Jesus is clearly key here, but nevertheless, it is ultimately about Jesus’ vision and proclamation of God. The problem is that the notion of power that is involved here cuts directly across our theology of God as “Almighty” and “king”. Power is directly linked with God. The desire for power is the desire to be like God. It was Lucifer’s desire and, in the story of the Garden, the bait with which he enticed Adam and Eve: “Don’t you want to become like God?” The bible is rich with such powerful images of God – images that compel and entice.

Jesus asks the brothers if they are able to drink his cup and share his baptism (a reference to the Passion). In other words, he’s saying, “Following me is becoming like me. Are you up for it?” Yet we can’t stop there. Jesus is not only saying, “Become like me”. He assumes that the values he is espousing and the Way he is embracing is also God’s way. And if that is true, we need to feel the force of the way in which Jesus is deconstructing notions of God’s power!

Job 38 is part of Yahweh’s response to Job’s demand to meet him in court and explain God’s ways. Job, you will remember, has suffered terribly at Yahweh’s hands. His four friends have tried to explain that it can only be construed as punishment; that Job must have done something wrong. Job, however, protests his innocence. He is prepared to face Yahweh with it, and take Yahweh on. He challenges Yahweh to show where he has failed. But Job is neither spectacularly egocentric nor blinded to his own failings. Job is right! That is the whole point of the book. Job’s sufferings are presented as a result of divine whim, not divine justice.

Yahweh’s response is a massive restatement of divine power. It boils down to this: “When you can do what I can do, and understand what I understand, then come and we’ll talk. Until then, I’m not going to demean myself by answering you!”

Job is right – but so is Yahweh! Yahweh is indeed so powerful and beyond understanding. It is impossible to fathom what it must be like to have such power and knowledge. The book leaves us deep within the divine mystery: God is God. This is enough for Job. Yet it is a profoundly unsatisfactory response for those of us who do not find that answer satisfying, not least because it is terrifying. Such a God indeed has power to do whatever God wishes and wills. But that means that God may be capricious, cruel, unjust or uncaring – and there is no one who is able to call such a God to account.

Do you see the problem? How can we be sure of God? What can we do, other than to grovel before such a God as helpless slaves, totally dependent on his (and surely such a God must be male?) good will? Almighty power reduces human beings to slaves – and yet Jesus says absolutely that this is not how it is in God’s kingdom! Rather, he says that, if we ought to be slaves, it is because God is a slave! When Jesus says, “I’m like a slave; become like me”, he’s not saying, “I’m God’s slave”. God is not exempted from Jesus’ reconfiguration of greatness!

God’s power, God’s love and Jesus the High Priest (Hebrews 5: 1-10)
Job alone doesn’t give us enough. We haven’t said enough when we say that God is “Almighty” – but neither can we say that God isn’t! This is, of course, only to land ourselves firmly in the problem of theodicy – of how God can be both all-loving and all-powerful, given the presence of suffering in the world. But the gospel passage and the epistle to the Hebrews give us a different slant on the issue.

God’s power is indeed as great (and greater!) than depicted in Yahweh’s speech to Job. But, Jesus tells us, it is power that is deployed “on behalf of”. God’s power doesn’t immunise God against human suffering, or protect God from it. God’s power is not “naked”, sovereign power, to be deployed in a crushing exercise of divine will. Rather, it is the power of passionate love that actively seeks the beloved out, regardless of cost

The story of Jesus tells us two things here: firstly, that God suffers with us and on our behalf. The cross involves God in suffering and loss, and it is voluntarily embraced for us. But secondly, as the writer to the Hebrews reminds us, God enters the human condition in Jesus. The writer to the Hebrews portrays Jesus as the High Priest who is “not unsympathetic to our weaknesses”, but is “like us”. God, in Christ, “knows what it’s like”. This is the story of God’s solidarity with humanity, rather than condemnation and abandonment. It is a story lived out in radical identification with all that God is not. This is how we are to understand the power of God.

It is redemptive power. The New Testament uses the images of God’s power (the power of creation, flood and exodus) to speak about God’s power to liberate us from all that enslaves. This is power exercised on behalf of the least: the poor, the dispossessed, the bereaved, the oppressed. It takes on the systems of economic , social, spiritual and political power that are death-dealing and destructive – even that of the Strong Man – and wins! It is resurrection power; the power of Life. And nothing can stand against it.

It is also the power of forgiveness. It is the power that suffers the effects and consequences of human sin, and then speaks the word of forgiveness that frees, transforms, converts and makes possible a new start. It is the power by which human beings, terminally trapped in the cycles of sin, death, guilt and despair, can be born again into God’s new creation. It is the power of Life. Hallelujah!

Amen.

Job 23: 1-9; 16-17
Psalm 22: 1-15
Hebrews 4: 12-16
Mark 10: 17-31

What does God “look” like through your eyes? If you’re Job, God’s pretty terrifying – someone who’s basically “out to get you”. If you’re the property owner in today’s gospel story (note: it’s only Matthew who calls him “young” and Luke who calls him a “ruler”!), God gets you where it hurts most. For the writer of Hebrews, God’s frighteningly incisive – cuts to the heart of the matter – but it’s okay, because God does it not to play on our weaknesses, but to lead us deeper into truth.

I ask about what God looks like because the gospel passage is about Jesus’ “gaze” – how things look from his perspective. Three times Mark talks about Jesus “looking”:

• v21: “Jesus, looking at him, loved him …”
• v23: “Then Jesus looked around and said …”
• v27: “Jesus looked at them and said …”

Mark wants us to “follow Jesus’ eyes”, or rather, to be met and held by Jesus’ gaze. Mark uses “looking” to indicate the penetration of Jesus’ gaze: that Jesus “sees things as they are”. What he then says is something we ought to make a point of listening to! And today, the object of his gaze and the subject of his speech is wealth, and its relationship to discipleship.

Not as innocent as he seems!
We mustn’t lose sight of the fact that this is the concluding pericope in the section on “Who is the greatest?” That is why it concludes with a restatement of the first/last inversion (10:31, cf 9:35). In this section, Jesus confronts the notion that wealthy people have the power and influence that goes with wealth because they are blessed by God. Instead, he suggests that the accumulation of wealth is a problem. Its origins is fraud and the absence of compassion, and its effect is to keep would-be disciples of Jesus from following, because the cost is too great.

On a first, “innocent” reading, Jesus does three things that have kept good bourgeois exegetes guessing for years: firstly, he refuses the designation, “Good Teacher” (something that has really worried them), secondly, he answers the question about inheriting eternal life by quoting the Decalogue (when he’s gone to extraordinary lengths to demonstrate that citing bible verses is not the way to discern what God thinks/wants!) and thirdly, he seems to be unnecessarily harsh towards the man – not because Jesus doesn’t love him, but because he refuses to compromise on the cost of following. The demand to sell all and give to the poor sounds like hyperbole. Jesus couldn’t have meant this other than metaphorically, could he?

The point here is that we ought not to read this “innocently”. This isn’t about a conversation that goes inexplicably wrong, but is about a deliberate and direct confrontation between discipleship of Jesus and the accumulation of wealth and privilege. What Jesus says shocks not only the property owner, but the disciples, too – hence all the very serious “gazing” that Jesus does in the passage.

Exposing flattery
The action of kneeling and calling Jesus “Good Teacher” has far more to do with flattery than with worship! Convention demanded that the man kneel. He was quite properly acknowledging Jesus’ authority. However, calling Jesus “Good Teacher” is a calculated act of flattery. Jesus would have been expected to respond in kind with a similarly flattering description of the man, thus establishing a certain equality. That was how it worked among influential people – and Jesus refuses the game.

There are two points about his apparently strange reply that make perfect sense once we recognise that Jesus chooses to confront the whole question of power that is associated with wealth. The first is that Jesus exposes the hollowness of his title: “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone!” Now of course, there is an irony here: we know that Jesus is both good and God! So why does he apparently rebuke the man? Surely this rich man, kneeling at his feet, has recognised something in Jesus that others have failed to spot?

The second point to note here is that the title the man gives Jesus is hollow! Jesus knows this, because he “knows the heart”. But, if there is any doubt, look at the exchange:

“Good Teacher” (v17)
“No one is good except God” (v18)
“I have kept every commandment since my youth” (v20)

Do you see the point? Jesus says, “Only God is good”; the man responds, “I am blameless”! In the Talmud, Abraham, Moses and Aaron are believed to have kept the whole Law. It is into his exalted company of saints that the young man blithely and calmly places himself! Of course, one point of the exchange is that the man is supremely unaware of his own shortcomings. And significantly, Jesus does not condemn him for it. Jesus “looks at him and loves him”. Jesus sees what is blinding him to his own motives and preventing him from following. Nevertheless, what the exchange does is to expose the title” Good Teacher” as empty. This is someone who has no purchase on “goodness”.

Wealth and fraud
Why does Jesus uncharacteristically respond to the man’s question by citing the Decalogue? What is interesting here is what Mark includes and both Matthew and Luke omit: “Do not defraud”. This doesn’t appear in the Decalogue, but was part of the teaching about theft. Matthew and Luke deliberately omit it, and Mark strangely appears to inject it clumsily and unnecessarily into the narrative, putting it on the lips of Jesus. Why? “Defrauding” in the bible refers to deliberately withholding wages that are due. It is associated with the abuse of power by property owners – employers – and, as Mark tells us, “he had much property” (v22).

In other words, Jesus is doing two things. Jesus is deeply suspicious of wealth. He finds it difficult to believe that the accumulation of conspicuous wealth can happen without fraud – and fraud committed against the vulnerable and the exploitable: the workers! Jesus, therefore, is contradicting the equation of wealth with God’s blessing. It isn’t “The rich man at his castle/the poor man at his gate/God has made them high and low/and ordered their estate”. It’s “The rich man in the castle is the direct cause of the poor man’s poverty! God doesn’t like it!” And secondly, Jesus is saying (gently) to the rich man, “Just stop and listen for a moment. You’re not actually blameless. You have what you do because you have exploited your workers. You’re a thief.”

Cutting to the heart of the matter (Mark 10: 21-22/Hebrews 4: 12-16)
“The Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword. It pierces to the heart of things until it is even able to divide soul from spirit and joints from marrow! It is able, in fact, to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12).

Pretty terrifying stuff, eh? Which of us can face having our thoughts and intentions exposed – to ourselves, let alone more widely? The writer doesn’t let up: “Before God, no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the One to whom we must render an account”. Ouch! I don’t know about you, but I probably spend a lot of time subconsciously trying to “fool” God. I (subconsciously) marshal my arguments to throw my thoughts and intentions in the best possible light. In fact, I tell myself I’m grateful that God can see “the thoughts and intentions of my heart”, because I so frequently find myself doing things that I oughtn’t, or failing to do what I ought, even though my intentions are different! Human nakedness before God on the intimate scale spoken about here, though, makes me feel uncomfortable rather than reassured. I know that even my best intentions are ambiguous, compromised and problematic, so to stand in the presence of the God “to whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hidden” is embarrassing at best! I also resent it, to the extent that it uncovers the games I play to keep me from having to confront myself.

This is the experience that the rich man has with Jesus. His intentions appear good to himself. He sees in himself the genuine desire to be careful – scrupulous – about keeping the commandments. Yet Jesus’ response is to tell him: “There’s still something missing. Go and sell what you own, give the money to the poor and then come back and join me on my journey” (v21). Jesus sees his heart. He is not yet ready to follow Jesus on this particular journey – the way of the cross. His possessions are in the way. And so Jesus’ response is to say, “You need to be ruthless. Your wealth is the eye that needs plucking out; the hand or the foot that needs amputation!” The man is shocked. He looks at Jesus, willing Jesus not to be serious … or to relent … or to compromise .. or to negotiate. Anything that will let him off the hook. You can sense from Mark’s narrative the hushed expectancy of the crowd – including the disciples! This is totally unreasonable of Jesus! Why does he ask this of this good man, when he has made no similar demand before?

Losing the world and gaining the kingdom: the problem of wealth
Jesus turns to his hearers – the crowds – and, rather than putting them at ease, confirms the shock value of what has just happened. Then he takes the disciples aside and explains further. He is unequivocal. “It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God”. The characters in this gospel story aren’t the only ones to have had their world rocked by this statement! He is using a humorous illustration: camels don’t go through the eyes of needles, and rich people don’t enter the kingdom! The history of exegesis is littered with attempts to make Jesus say less than he clearly means. Remember the medieval exegesis about a narrow, low gate in the Jerusalem city wall, called “The eye of the needle”? A camel can only go through this on its knees, the exegetes said! Well, if Jesus’ point is only that it is difficult for rich people, the reaction of disciples is curious.

The disciples are “perplexed” (v24) and “greatly astounded” (v26). Remember the opening question: “What must I do in order to inherit eternal life?” The logic of what Jesus says means, indeed, “Who on earth can be saved?” It is, indeed, impossible!

Jesus clearly sees wealth as a particular problem. It has a uniquely pernicious power to keep people from the kingdom. Why? Look again at Jesus’ response to the original question. Isn’t it striking that he cites the Decalogue but misses out the first commandment? And isn’t it striking that he inserts the expansion of the prohibition against theft, but omits the second commandment to love neighbour as self? When the lawyer in Luke 10:25ff asks the same question, both he and Jesus agree that the Law is summarised by the twin commandment to love. The point here seems to be that Jesus wants to emphasise the very things that he has deliberately omitted. Precisely by omitting them, the reader is forced to recall them and puzzle over them.

Jesus sees a direct, causal connection between wealth (ie having more than we need) and poverty (ie having less than we need). There’s a zero-sum equation at work in Jesus’ thinking: there is enough to go round, but not enough for everyone to have much more than they need. There’s enough daily bread for everyone, but not enough for some to gorge themselves on it. Some people have less than they need because others have more than they need. The wealthy have their own share – and the shares of the poor, too!

In other words, the accumulation of wealth produces a ruthlessness to acquire at the expense of others that kills compassion. It stifles love of neighbour. If we truly loved our neighbours as ourselves, we would not countenance seeing them in need while we could do anything about it. Poverty, for Jesus, is the irrefutable evidence of the hard-heartedness of the wealthy.

That’s how the world is. We’ve made it that way. But the kingdom is different. The community that Jesus is calling into being is the community of the cross – the community that is selflessly generous in its provision of need and tireless in its vigilance on behalf of others – particularly the for “the last”. This is a kingdom of sharing and mutual care.

Shockingly, to those of us in a consumer society, Jesus is not a capitalist. Not only that, but he actively thinks that it’s a thoroughly bad, inhumane system that keeps people from the kingdom. Does that mean Jesus is a Communist? Of course it does! That doesn’t make him a Marxist. As the Marxist theologian Jose Miranda remarked, “Marxism is a mere episode in the history of the communist project” … begun by Jesus! Communism – the “community of goods” – is indeed the “project” begun by Jesus and which he called the kingdom of God! The uncomfortable truth is that the Marxist expression wasn’t radical enough in its attempts to make the communist vision a reality. It was a betrayal and failure of the communist vision – but it was still far, far closer in intention (that word again!) to Jesus than our baptised capitalism! We use “communism” as some sort of antithesis to Christianity. Remember the words of Dom Helder Camarra? “When I ask for bread for the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no bread, they call me a Communist!”

Of course, good western capitalist Christians have sought to deflect the moral power of the communist vision by pointing out that Marxism was atheistic. Yet, as Moltmann pointed out, atheism is a protest against a particular conception of God. Karl Marx saw the sort of Christianity which taught that the wealth of the owners and the poverty of the workers was God-ordained as “the opiate of the masses” – the means of keeping people quiet in conditions that were a living hell. He didn’t want anything to do with that sort of God. And neither does Jesus! This is precisely the point of conflict here, and which so shocks his hearers: Jesus is denying that wealth can be seen as a sign of blessing from God! God is not the God who orders that some dwell in castles, while others live in terminal poverty at the castle gates, hoping for a few scraps that will enable them to exist for another 24 hours.

The Make Poverty History campaign was predicated on fact that the eradication of global poverty is easy. At least, it’s not expensive! 1% of the global product will do the trick! It’s not lack of money that’s the problem: it’s lack of love and compassion! Our deep resistance to the plain sense of what Jesus says is an indication of the truth that Jesus expresses: wealth and possessions have remarkable spiritual power. They have the power to blunt and extinguish the passionate love for neighbour that will not let us rest while we can do anything to alleviate their need.

Jesus loves rich people!
Here’s the thing: even though Jesus can see straight into our hearts, he is, as the writer to the Hebrews tells us, “utterly sympathetic to our weaknesses”. He’s been here. He understands. He recognises the chains that bind us. He knows the paralysing power that wealth and possessions exert over us. He wants to free us from it. He looks at the rich man and loves him. It isn’t only the man who goes away grieving: we ought to sense Jesus’ grief. Jesus doesn’t say that the kingdom isn’t for rich people. Remember, he invites the rich man to follow him! This is a gospel call – an invitation to discipleship. And it is genuinely extended.

The point we ought to note – and that Jesus’ hearers fail to “get” – is that this is the same gospel call as Jesus offers to lepers, prostitutes and beggars. It just sounds different! It is no less loving and gracious. The difference is in the material circumstances of the hearers. The poor hear the invitation as pure gift. As Dylan says, “When you ain’t got nuthin’, you got nuthin’ to lose” (mind you, he also said, “When you think that you’ve lost ev’rything/you find that you can always lose a little bit more”!). All they have to do is respond. But the way of the cross is about loss. It’s about losing everything in order to gain even more! Yet that loss is hard, the more that one has to lose.

How are rich people saved? (Mark 10:23ff/Job 23: 1-9; 16-17/Psalm 22)
The Book of Job is connected with today’s gospel in the form of a contrast. In the gospel passage, the rich man is invited to give up his riches because God is a God of love. Job has all his possessions wrenched from him by a God whose ways he finds utterly inscrutable and unfair! In today’s passage, Job is the example of a rich, righteous man. He is faithful to God. Satan is the one who prosecutes the Jesus-like case here: “Take away his possessions and then we’ll see how much Job loves Yahweh!”

Job is the flip side of the theological coin in today’s gospel: not only is wealth not to be viewed as evidence of God’s blessing; neither should suffering be viewed as sign of God’s punishment. Job’s friends are as shocked and as offended as Jesus’ disciples. Neither Jesus nor Job share the “gaze” of their friends and hearers. God “looks” very different! Now the Book of Job is an astonishing portrayal of human bewilderment in the face of God’s inscrutability. Job longs to argue with God – but God isn’t playing! Job remains faithful despite fearing that God may in fact turn out to be some sort of cosmic sadist who delights in toying with us creatures. And, as the disciples are promised that they will receive more than they have given up, Job ends up better off than before. Psalm 22 could well be a psalm on the mouth of Job. Read the whole Psalm through – the movement from feeling abandoned, through a stubborn holding on to faith, and on to life and restoration.

What the gospel and Hebrews tells us is that God is a loving God, who wills Life and not death. God is not a harsh deity, but has shared the darkness, despair and bewilderment of humanity in Jesus Christ. The way of the cross – the way of loss – is not a one-way ticket to crushing oblivion, but an invitation to the very life of God. It is extended to all humanity – rich and poor alike.

Yet the gospel is always contextual. It addresses the lives of people, rather than speaking in spiritualised generalities. Jesus is calling into being a community. He starts with the least first. They’re in. They’re the basis of the community. That means the participation of the poor is non-negotiable. But it further means that if the rich are to become part of that community, and if their wealth is the cause of the poverty of the poor, then that has to be sorted out. You can’t create a community of love; a community centred around the Good News, when part of that community is directly responsible for the Bad News that governs the lives of the people. Something concrete needs doing for genuine community to happen. And that “something” is the community of goods that Jesus calls his followers to – a community based on an entirely different set of economic criteria and power that shares rather than exploits.

Riches enslave. They blunt compassion and they distract from following. The rich man has too much to keep him at home. He has business to attend to – business that will keep him from following Jesus and poor people from enjoying the life for which they were created. If he is to follow, he will have to find the strength to break free of the chains that bind him to his world. He will need to be ruthless. More importantly, he will need to be loving. He will need to allow God in Christ to open his eyes to the need and suffering of others, and to draw the necessary strength from that compassion. And, in giving to the poor – in using what he has to give life to others – he will share in the work and blessings of the kingdom. It will be hard. Humanly, it’s impossible. But it is possible with God because God’s love is more powerful than the chains that bind him … if only he will let it do its work.

Amen.