A sermon by Alison Sampson on Mark 10:17-31

So I ordered a latte, and I don’t know whether the barista was having a bad day or whether the coffee shop is going downhill, but I was given a flat white – and the milk was too hot. And if I’m going to spend $3.50 on a coffee, the least they can do is get it right. But, you know, #firstworldproblems.

Then I was getting dressed to come here, and it’s common time which means I like to wear a bit of green, and I just don’t have a jacket which really goes with my green shoes so I had to wear this green top instead, which I’ve already worn three or four times and I’m getting just a teeny tiny bit sick of it. But, you know, #firstworldproblems.

And I have to admit that this sermon is a bit all over the place because I don’t have a study or an office so half of it was prepared in the theological library and the other half at my kitchen table. I had to schlep my computer all over the place, and pack it up and get it out and pack it up and get it out. I can’t leave anything out; thinking and writing under these conditions is just so difficult. Then again, I know – #firstworldproblems.

Now, this is the place where I am supposed to remind you just how privileged we are. As members of the first world, we have shelter and clothing and running water and medical care and superannuation and books and furniture and many other possessions. I should remind you that many people do not have these things, and perhaps urge you to think about how you could help other people share in this privilege. And this would be a reasonable thing to do.

However, I am not a reasonable person, and we are not a reasonable people. We are disciples of Jesus, a most unreasonable man, who views the world in topsy-turvy terms and tries to show us the world through his eyes. He did it again in the story we heard tonight. A man who owned many fields and other possessions came up to Jesus and asked him, “What must I do to inherit life without limit?” Jesus looked at him and loved him, and said, “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

When the man heard this, he was shocked and he went away grieving. Maybe he went and sat in his big old house; maybe he called his accountant and reviewed the rent books; maybe he went and bought a pretty bauble to cheer himself up: the story doesn’t say. Instead, we are told that Jesus turned to his disciples and said, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!”

Notice what Jesus did not say. He did not say that the wealthy landowner was privileged. He did not tell him to be grateful for his privilege, and to find ways to help others share in this privilege. Instead, he told him to get rid of his wealth, because only then would he be free to follow Jesus. When Jesus said this, his disciples were perplexed. We all know how privileged the rich are, we are; we all know that we are blessed. How can it be difficult for us to enter the kingdom?

Well, maybe, just maybe, this assumption that the rich are blessed is not one of God’s assumptions. Maybe, just maybe, riches prevent us from entering the kingdom, or the culture, of God. For when we are rich – and let’s be honest, most of us are loaded – we can forget just how interconnected and dependent we all are. Wealth insulates us from knowing our need of others and our need of God. Wealth gives us the illusion of control over our lives, and of our futures. Wealth makes it impossible for us to learn to trust in God’s provision. Wealth can make us blind to the needs of others; wealth blunts our compassion. If we do not know hunger, why would we give our sister bread? She can eat cake. If we do not know cold, why would we give our brother our spare jacket? He can pull on an overcoat. If we do not know what it is to be without shelter, why would we invite a stranger to come in and sleep in our spare room?

For most of us, such needs are beyond the realm of our experience, and so we do not meet them. Our riches insulate us. They make us feel complacent, comfortable, and secure so that on the rare occasion that we can no longer ignore the needs of others, we refer them to government or to welfare or to the helping professions. How, then, can the rich participate in the culture of God, which demands that we feed the hungry, we clothe the naked, and we love one another, not in some abstract and kindly social policy, but in real and material ways? Who among us can be saved?

To disciples asking this question, Jesus offers an answer: “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” And God’s way is the church, for the church provides the arena where the Word of God and the people of God enter into spirited conversation. In listening to the Word, we are challenged to let go of the things which bind us, the things which give the illusion of security and control. In journeying with the people, we learn what it is to love and be loved. We begin to see just how impoverished we are: how mean, how shrivelled up, how hard-hearted, how lonely, even as we begin to recognise that it is in our poverty and our deepest need that God blesses us. More, we begin to feel the hunger of our brother or the loneliness of our sister, and we realise that we too can participate in God’s work of healing: we too can enter into the culture of God and love one another in real and material ways.

Social isolation, lack of trust, deep spiritual hunger, a sense of meaninglessness, a failure to love and be loved, a failure to forgive and to accept forgiveness? Now, these might be #firstworldproblems. But in Christ we have been given a new identity that dissolves the labels of first and two-thirds world, and invites us all to be poor. And in His church, we don’t have to strive to be rich, or to pretend we are not rich: endeavours which consume us and turn us into liars. We don’t have to guard and protect the possessions which so often possess us. In the church, we learn to seek our treasure in heaven, instead. And in the church, we are shown the new reality, God’s reality: a world that is pulsing with life and love; a community of beloved brothers and sisters; a culture where it is not the wealthy, but those who know their need of others, who are truly and deeply blessed. Ω