+Jesus, looking at him, loved him.
This is one of the most beautiful lines in all of scripture. Jesus looks deep into the soul of the rich man and through his unwavering abiding love, tells him the very thing the man fears: his wealth is standing in his way. His wealth is a barrier to the everlasting life he so earnestly desires.
The rich man hears this and then walks away, shocked and grieving.
I think many of us probably assume that’s the end of the story. A rich man asks for the key to everlasting life but not getting the answer he wants, walks away scheming on how to find a loophole, determined to hold onto his riches. But we’re not told the rest of this story, the gospel just reads that he walks away “shocked and grieving.”
He’s grieving. To grieve is to be fully aware of what just happened, but needing time to process it, to let it sink in. So the rich man may just need some time to adjust. He’s also shocked. Perhaps because a poor itinerant preacher had the audacity to tell a man of his wealth and stature to give it all up ----but I don’t think that’s it. I think he’s shocked that Jesus’ deep gaze saw through to the truth: that even though he claimed to be a faithful man, following the laws of Moses since childhood, he was faithless when it came to his wealth. Instead of taking his wealth and sharing it with others, caring for the least among him, he was hoarding it for himself, not trusting that by doing justice, by caring for the sick the hungry and the oppressed, he would be awarded with riches beyond all measure.
Jesus isn’t saying: wealth is bad. That having nice things is evil. The problem isn’t having wealth, the problem is hoarding it to the detriment of others.
Jesus knew what the rich man didn’t: that his wealth was a gift from God. A gift, which, like all of God’s gifts are not ours to hoard or to hide, but to share. The rich man wasn’t holding onto his wealth because he was evil. The rich man was holding onto his wealth because he was afraid. Although a self proclaimed devout man, adhering to the letter of the laws of faith, the man, like so many of us, is missing the spirit of the law. The spirit of the law, the spirit of our faith demands that we not just proclaim our faith, but that we live it: not letting our fear and our doubt hold us back.
Wealth doesn’t keep us from everlasting life. Fear does.
As far as I can tell, from Abraham and Sarah, [Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob Rachel and Leah] to Moses, Miriam and Aaron, through Elizabeth and Zechariah, Mary and Joseph to the Jesus of the manger, the cross and the empty tomb, we have been taught that doubt and fear render us lost and alone while faith and hope offer us a joy and peace beyond our wildest dreams.
But even with all these examples of faith trumping doubt, of hope over fear, we still doubt and we still fear.
We have a choice. We can doubt and fear or we can hope and dream. But we can’t do both. With every doubt we whittle away at hope and with every fear we squelch a dream. If the rich man really had faith in the laws of Moses he was following why did he seek out Jesus? Would a man of wealth and stature track down an itinerant preacher from the backwater if he was full of hope? I think his own fear and his own doubt had whittled away at his faith….I think the rich man was, in spite of all the material goods and social stature he had attained, empty. And he looked to Jesus to fill him--to adjust a ritual, to explain some law—so he could go on his way, happy and content. But as is usual with Jesus, the man didn’t get what he was looking for, he got what he needed. Jesus didn’t tell him how to better profess his faith, Jesus told him to live it.
The Gospel demands more than professing a faith once a week at church. The Gospel challenges us to live it. Jesus wasn’t just talking to the Rich Man, Jesus was talking to us.
The challenge of living out our faith requires us to ask: what helps us spread the good news and what hinders us? What’s important to us, what’s our heart’s desire for St Paul’s Cathedral?
Is it our building our music and our liturgies? Or is it to feed the hungry, clothe the naked and free the oppressed?
Hopefully it is both.
You see, our building, our liturgies our music don’t keep us from living the Gospel message but neither are they the Gospel message.
We don’t have all this stuff [the building the choirs…] because it’s nice, we have all this because it feeds us, strengthening us to do the work God has given us to do. We don’t ask you to pledge so we can keep this building, these choirs and these liturgies going for the sake of entertainment or aesthetic pleasure, we ask you to give money so we, as a community of faith, enriched, emboldened and empowered through our worship in here can do the work of God out there. We ask for pledges so that we can make St. Paul’s Cathedral more than a stop on an architectural tour, more than a nice venue to hear a concert, we need your pledges so we can continue to be a beacon of light for the people of Buffalo, so we can continue to offer hospitality healing and hope to all those we encounter—those who walk through our doors and those we encounter when we walk out of them.
We’ve been given all of this as a sacred trust, not an evil indulgence. Our job isn’t to fear losing it, but to rejoice in what it is-a loving testament of thanks to God, designed to strengthen us to go out, living the good news of Christ in the world.
As we enter into this stewardship season at St. Paul’s Cathedral we aren’t asking you to pledge out of fear, we’re asking you to pledge--commit your time, your talent and your treasure --out of hope. Hope that together we, as a community of faith, will be faithful live-rs of the Word for generations to come. AMEN.
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