Mark 10:17-31

Let me tell you, following Jesus could be very confusing at times. Even just being in a crowd with him when he came to a village, we didn’t always know how to understand what he was saying. Even now, twenty years later, we don’t always know. We just do the best we can.

But back then … I’d been following him through Judea. I wasn’t a regular follower, not like the disciples, who went everywhere with him, but I had spent a couple weeks with him. He was just leaving a village when a young man ran up to him. Well-dressed, clean cut, the kind of young man that our villagers and townspeople like to brag about.

“A fine young man,” we say. “He’ll be an honor to us.”

And actually, he was. I’ve known Benjamin since he was born. He was a fine young man. Kind, courteous, thoughtful, considerate of others—a credit to his family, to his town, and to his synagogue.

He knelt before Jesus and asked the question that was on the minds of several of us. I mean, we’d been following, listening, watching, and we had learned a lot about what he expected of his followers; but none of us had actually asked the question.

Benjamin did. Kneeling there before Jesus, his eyes cast down in humility, he asked, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Now I had been with Jesus long enough to know that he never gave a straight answer. If you asked him if the sun was shining, he would go off on some tangent about how much God loves the animals around us. Or something. Never a simple “Yes” or “No.”

So I was not surprised when he responded in a completely unconnected manner. “Why do you call me good? No one is good — except God alone.”

I saw the surprise on the young man’s face. He did not expect this. He was not being sarcastic or flippant or anything like that. He had seen what Jesus did. Jesus was a good man and a teacher and a good teacher.

But he recovered and listened as Jesus gave him pretty much the standard reply that any rabbi would have given him: obey the law of Moses. Jesus rattled off some the commandments that dealt with human relationships. He didn’t start with “Love the Lord your God.” He started with murder, went through adultery, theft, false witness, defrauding, on to honoring your parents — six of the ten. But important ones, laws that deal with how we live with other people.

A couple of Jesus’ followers smirked a little when Benjamin replied. “Teacher, all these I have kept since I was a boy.” They didn’t know him, but I did. And yes, all the way. Even when he disagreed with what his parents expected of him, he always honored what they said. The other commandments—he was clear there too.

I have to admit that a look of pride must have crossed my face then. This was indeed a fine young man. And I guess Jesus recognized that too, because when he looked down at Benjamin and took his hands and stood him up, he had that soft expression on his face, like a father looking at a favorite son.

I heard both love and hope in Jesus’ voice when he said, “One thing you lack, Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

Now let me explain about Benjamin. He came from a family with resources, with wealth, with land. That did not stop him from being all those things I said earlier. He was not one of those snobbish young men who are always putting down anyone who does not have what they have. He gave a good share to the Temple. He helped support the synagogue. He gave alms to the poor. He was not greedy.

Benjamin stood silent for a minute or so, looking into Jesus’ eyes, trying to decide if he were serious. When he realized that was the case, he turned, downcast, and walked away.

I started to follow him, but Jesus spoke again. “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!”

That spun me around. I’m not wealthy. I don’t own land. I do have a little shop where I sell cloth. It makes me more money than those who work the land, so I have more comfort than they do. I eat better. I sleep better. And I suppose there are many who could say that I have some wealth.

But I’ve worked for it. I attend synagogue every week. I go to Jerusalem for each of the feast days. I offer my sacrifice of an unblemished lamb. I participate in the ceremonies. I worship God as I should. And God has been good to me.

Not as good as God has been to those with land and servants and power and authority, I know. So maybe I haven’t been as good as they have, but I have tried. And there are times when I wonder why God has been so good to them, because there are times when they are not so good to others.

But we know that God blesses those who love God, blesses them with money and power and health. And those who work the land — they don’t always attend synagogue, they don’t always go to Jerusalem for the feast days to offer a sacrifice. Well, if they do, it’s only a pair of doves, never a lamb or a calf. So God doesn’t bless them. It’s simple, really.

And now Jesus is saying that it will be hard for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God?

He repeated himself. “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God!” And then he did one of his word pictures. “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..”

I could hear the gasps from everyone around, the gasps and the murmuring.

“The rich can’t get in?”

“What’s he talking about?”

“A camel through the eye of a needle?”

“What’s he mean?”

“Then who can be saved?”

When Jesus makes a special point, when he has confused people and then intends to leave them mostly that way, he says something profound but cryptic; something we understand, but in a way that we almost don’t. And he gets this look on his face, this look like “You’ll be thinking about that for a while.” And for sure, we do.

“With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”

Now the second part we all understood. We’ve been taught that since we could learn. God can do anything. But the first part, that entering the kingdom of God is impossible for us people; that implies that none of us, rich or poor, can enter the kingdom. So what are we to do? Why are we following Jesus? What can anyone do to inherit, to earn, to receive a place in the kingdom?

Obviously, Peter’s mind had gone a different direction. He and the others, they were not wealthy, but they had given up all they had — family, job, friends, homes, all of that had been left behind. And Peter wanted to know, what would they get for that?

“We have left everything to follow you!.” The look on his face asked, “Is that enough? What more could we have done?”

Jesus smiled, sort of encouragingly. “Truly I tell you, no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel,  …”

I was listening, honestly, and I heard the rest of what he said, but that really painted a picture in my mind. What would it be like to leave your home, your family, your children, your village, everything you knew, everything you had ever had, to just walk away from them? Who would care for your wife, your children, your fields, your shop, your livelihood? I don’t know if I did it physically, but mentally, I shook my head in pain.

But Jesus continued, “will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields — along with persecutions — and in the age to come eternal life.”

That stopped me again. A hundred-fold of what they had left? How would that happen? Even if these people gathered together into a community, even if their number increased considerably, now in this age? And what was that about persecutions?

I didn’t understand then, but I think I do now. We did become a community, but more than a community. We became a family of brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, children … oh, how we shared those children! During the persecutions, we took care of each other, of each other’s parents, of each other’s children. So yes, a hundred-fold. And it will be even better in the age to come.

But back then, no, I didn’t understand. I don’t think Peter and the others did, either.

Anyway, he concluded with another of those enigmatic statements, one he used several times: “But many who are first will be last, and the last first.”

And I thought about that after the resurrection, after he left us, when we became that community. We would gather together what we had and feed one another. We would share with the whole family. Those of us who had, brought, and those who did not, were grateful. But the first and last part, I noticed that many times those who came first to the meal were not served first. Sometimes they were the last to be served, not because the servers ignored them, but because they sat in the back.

Often, they were the ones who had brought food. They would sit in the back, so that if the food ran out, they would be the ones with empty plates. Then they would go home and eat from their own food supply. So that those who did not have, ate, and those who did, also ate.

That’s what Jesus told Benjamin to do, to sell what he had, give to the poor, and follow. That’s what we did. We took what we had, gave it to those who did not, and we followed.

For consideration:

General questions:

1) How does this story follow its Scripture?

2) How does this story expand its Scripture for you?

3) What is the message of this story?

4) How does the message apply to us today?

Specific questions:

5) Can you identify your blessings?

6) What groups of people are not as blessed as you are? Why?

7) Is God’s grace big enough to cover them and you?

8) What could you give up and still live well?