Do any of you remember the story of the poor fisherman and his wife, who caught a magic fish, who granted them 3 wishes? Or Aladdin and his wonderful lamp (not the Disney version)? Or all the other fairy tales involving magic and wishes and unexpected consequences? When I was young I used to spend hours figuring out what I would wish for if anyone ever offered me three wishes, and figuring out how I’d phrase it so that there wouldn’t be any unpleasant side effects. Because all of the stories have one thing in common: there’s always a “gotcha” in it. Be careful what you wish for, as the old saying goes; you might get it.
One of the most famous of these stories comes from long ago and far away, from the kingdom of Phrygia, which is in what is now the north of Turkey. As the story has it, an old man named Silenus who had wandered away from his home was found by some kind-hearted peasants and taken to their king, named Midas. King Midas recognized the old man as the foster father of Bacchus, the Greek god of wine, and so received him hospitably and returned him home, with gifts. When Bacchus offered Midas anything he wanted as a reward for his kindness, Midas asked that everything that he touched might turn into gold. Bacchus granted his wish, and Midas went on his way, rejoicing in his newly acquired power. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he plucked a twig from an oak and it turned to gold in his hand. He picked up a stone; it became gold. He took a handful of dirt, and it did the same. He gathered berries from a bush, and when they too turned to gold his joy knew no bounds. He went on his way, full of plans for all the things he could do with his new wealth. As soon as Midas got home he ordered his servants to serve up a splendid feast, and when they had done so, he sat down to dine. To his dismay, when he bit into his first piece of bread, it broke a tooth. When he tried to take a sip from his goblet, the wine hardened in his mouth. Shocked at the unexpected consequences of his new gift, Midas tried to free himself of his powers. But nothing he could do had any effect; everything he touched still turned to gold. At last, fearing starvation, he prayed aloud to Bacchus to be freed from his golden curse. In pity, Bacchus granted his wish. Afterwards, King Midas shunned wealth and splendor, and lived simply in the countryside.
Anybody here ever wish they were rich? Not that we’d ask for anything as stupid as Midas did, though, of course not. We know that money doesn’t buy happiness, we’re Christians, after all! None of us think that money is the most important thing in life. It’s just that - a little more would be nice. And it wouldn’t corrupt me, I’m sure it wouldn’t! just let me win a couple of million dollars and give me the chance to prove it. . . I had a prof back at seminary who used to joke that his prayer was for God to equip him to minister to the filthy rich - where they’re at. Like Palm Springs, Morocco, and St. Moritz.
Most of us probably don’t spend much time dreaming about winning the lottery. It wouldn’t take that much to make us happy.... But maybe just a little bit more. My sister went hiking in Austria a few years ago. I don’t particularly want to go hiking in Austria, but I could do the Mozart festival in Salzburg... Just a little bit more. Just enough to replace my computer and my music software, that’s a pious wish, isn’t it? Just enough to buy all the books I want... And maybe enough to fly to New York or San Francisco or Tacoma to see my family whenever I feel like it. Just enough to go to Greece and Israel ... and maybe Ireland and New Zealand while I’m at it... Just a little bit more.
But how much is enough? The millionaire John Paul Getty, when asked how much money was enough, said “Just a little bit more.” No matter how much we have, we always need just “a little bit more” to be really satisfied.
The author and theologian Frederick Buechner says,
“The trouble with being rich is that since you can solve with your checkbook virtually all of the practical problems that bedevil ordinary people, you are left in your leisure with nothing but the great human problems to contend with: how to be happy, how to love and be loved, how to find meaning and purpose in your life. In desperation the rich are continually tempted to believe that they can solve these problems too with their checkbooks, which is presumably what led Jesus to remark one day that for a rich man to get into Heaven is about as easy as for a Cadillac to get through a revolving door.”
But we’re not rich, so it doesn’t apply to us, right? Wrong.
We are rich. Any single one of us, transplanted to a third world country, would instantly be recognized as the richest person in town (except, of course, for the looters who typically run the government). Americans eat more, travel more, spend more, own more than any other society on earth.
We are rich. And it’s just as hard to get a Toyota through a revolving door as it is a Cadillac - if you aren’t willing to get out of it and walk. And guess what? if you can’t get out, you’re in prison. You’re not free.
Liberation theology is very popular, not only in Latin American where it began but among women and blacks and other groups which see themselves as oppressed. There are entire seminary courses on liberation theology, so I’m hope you’re all relieved that I’m only going to mention two of its principles: The first is, “God has a preferential option for the poor,” and the second is, “God’s dominant purpose is to eliminate poverty by transferring wealth and power from the haves to the have-nots.”
Liberation theology understands salvation in material terms and seeks to transform society through material means. Classic reformed theology understands salvation in terms of individual sin, seeks transformation of persons through the Word and the Spirit of God, and expects social change as a necessary consequence of individual conversion. Liberation theologians are trying to address very real problems of injustice, persecution, and oppression - but they’re applying political solutions to what is really a spiritual problem.
In place of, “God has a preferential option for the poor,” I would say, “God has a preferential option for the lost.” And instead of, “God’s dominant purpose is to eliminate poverty by transferring wealth and power from the haves to the have-nots,” I would say “God’s dominant purpose is to change our dependence on material things into dependence on Him.”
“God has a preferential option for the lost.”
“God’s purpose is to change our dependence on material things into dependence on Him.”
If we depend on things for happiness, or significance, we become prisoners of them. Have you ever noticed that every time you buy something, first you have to find a place to put it, and then you have to take time dusting it or otherwise taking care of it? God knows (and so do all the people who helped me unpack my stuff last week - I finally got it all transferred from Colorado to Kent) how much time and money I have invested in books. In a way I suppose you could say that I am a prisoner of them, because I cannot transport them by myself. I like to think that I could give them up if God called me to do so, but he’d have to call pretty loudly. I like my books. I gave up a lot of stuff when I accepted my call into the ministry. Sometimes I’m tempted to admire my spirituality for having been willing to give up so much: if I’d never left Pillsbury, I’d be making at least twice what I’m making now. But you know what? I wasn’t happy then. I knew I didn’t belong in the business world, and not even power shopping and frequent flyer miles could make up for it. So it wasn’t really all that hard to walk away from it. But It really hurt to cut my library in half.
It’s a whole lot harder to say goodbye to things which actually give you pleasure, which do satisfy. And the young man in this story had a good life. There’s only one small hint that anything was wrong. He came to Jesus with a question. I think he knew that something was missing in his life.
“Good teacher,” the man asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good except God alone. “You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honor your father and mother.’“ “Teacher,” he declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.” Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
Luke calls the man in this story “a certain ruler.” This means that he probably had political authority as well as wealth; possibly something like a mayor or magistrate. He undoubtedly had many opportunities for corruption. But he didn’t succumb to temptation. This was a good man by worldly standards. He kept all the commandments having to do with relationships with people. And yet something was missing. What could it have been? I think there are two clues.
The first clue is in Jesus’ response to the man’s question: “Why do you call me ‘good’? No one is good except God alone.” I think this young man was measuring himself - and Jesus - by human standards. Jesus gently steered him away from looking at people to looking at God, by whose standards all of us fall abysmally short. And the second clue is the list of commandments. Jesus listed six: honor your parents, do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not lie, do not defraud (which is one result of coveting). You’d think that a young man versed in the law would notice that the four commandments dealing with our relationship to God were missing. But no. “Yes, teacher,” he says proudly, “I’ve done it.” I can almost see him waiting for the gold star to put on his homework, can’t you?
Jesus looks at him and loves him. We’re used to think of Jesus loving the outcasts, the lepers, the prostitutes and tax collectors. It surprises some, I think, to see that he also loved this rich young ruler. I think it’s important to remember that Jesus isn’t hostile to the rich. He’s hostile to people who misrepresent the kingdom of God, but that’s not necessarily the same thing.
There are four more commandments: remember the Sabbath and keep it holy. Do not use God’s name lightly. Do not make an idol. And - the first and most important - put no other gods before YHWH.
“What comes first to you?” says Jesus. “Which comes first with you, God or money?” Now, I think that if Jesus had put it in those terms, the young man would have said, almost without thinking, “Why, God, of course.” That’s the right answer, and this young man is good with the answers.
Jesus looks at him, and loves him, and presents the matter to him in such a way that the young man cannot avoid acknowledging the real truth about his priorities. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor.... Then come, follow me.”
At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth. Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!” The disciples were amazed at his words. . . and said to each other, “Who then can be saved?”
When I was a new Christian, I wondered about this passage. I wondered if I should quit my job and sell everything I owned. How many of you have wondered similar things? How many of you have skipped over this passage, and its uncomfortable implications? Is this commandment for me? Is this commandment for you? As it happens, I did give away a lot of stuff, I and spent my savings going to seminary.... But I didn’t do it in response to this passage. I did it because that’s what it took to go to seminary, and besides, what I spent is a whole lot less impressive than what God provided. Ask me about it sometime. Back to the point: does Jesus ask this particular sacrifice of everyone?
No, he doesn’t. When Nicodemus came by night asking about the kingdom of God, Jesus didn’t say “sell all you have, and follow me.” He said, “you must be born again.” Nicodemus was most worried about his status as a religious leader, and the respect that went with it.
Jesus asks us to hold ALL of God’s gifts lightly, whether it’s wealth, status, beauty, health, honors, family, friends.... Jesus calls us to be ready to give these things up, if necessary, to follow him. But it’s hard. And the more you have, the harder it is. What would you have trouble giving up?
We get attached to the things we buy, to the things we invest in. Things stick to us. It’s as though our souls are covered with velcro. Picture yourself covered with all your favorite possessions - the power tools, the sound system, the computer, the copper-bottomed French cookware, the new bedroom furniture, the sailboat... all stuck to the velcro... and now try to get through that revolving door.
As the apostles said, “who then can be saved?” And HOW?
Jesus told the young man that if he sold all his possessions and gave to the poor, he “would have treasure in heaven.” The other place where he uses this term, “treasures in heaven,” is in the sermon on the mount, in Mt 6:19-21, where Jesus tells the gathered crowds, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven... For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
I’ve heard this passage interpreted that investing in heavenly treasures shows where your heart really is, that it’s evidence of your priorities. But I think it’s more powerful and positive than that. I think this passage gives us actual instructions about how to go about changing our focus from material to spiritual wealth. Because when you spend money on something, you start caring about it, you invest in it, you become attached to it. But when heavenly things attach to your velcro covering, they pass right through that revolving door as if they weren’t even there. Getting unstuck from things is the truest liberation.
Investing your money in spiritual things is a spiritual discipline, as important to the development of mature Christianity as prayer and Bible reading. In Jesus’ interaction with the rich man, he wasn’t as focused on how much the poor needed as what the rich man had; he was concerned with the state of the rich man’s soul. It was out of love for him that Jesus asked him to sell his possessions. The German theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer said that “Giving is not God’s way of raising money, it’s God’s way of raising children.”
I would like to challenge each member of the congregation in two areas.
First, I’d like each of you to examine your giving habits. What causes do you support? Do you give a regular, pre-determined amount every pay period to the church? Do you give a percentage or a fixed amount? Do you write the first check in each pay period to the church, or do you wait and see how much you have left over? Do you ever get a notice for a worthy charity in the mail - like Heifer International or the Arbor Day Foundation - and decide to send them the money you were going to spend on a new toy, or a night out? Do you ever donate to a charity in someone’s name rather than buying them a present they don’t really need? How do you encourage your children, if you have them, to be givers? Even more telling: to what do you give your time? How about your talents, or your energy, or your pride, or your love? Compared to those, money is easy.
Second, and more important, I’d like each of you to examine your giving attitudes - which are even more important. Remember that your habits grow out of your attitudes, and your attitudes grow out of your relationship with God. Do you want to grow closer to Jesus? Do you want it more than the things you can buy? Are you filled with compassion when you see his people in need, or in trouble? If your heart yearns for the kingdom of God, for eternal life, being generous with everything you have becomes almost automatic.
How hard would it be for you to change your attitude to your possessions? How do you react when the subject of money comes up at church? Do you think of your possessions as yours or God’s? How attached are you to your possessions? How free are you, really?
