Proper 23 Year B
We have to begin by taking a moment to savor these
heart-rending words from the book of Job, and from the 22nd
Psalm. I wonder if there are any among
us who can hear these wrenching words of suffering and complaint to God and not
be moved to pity: “My complaint is bitter,” Job says; “God’s hand is heavy
despite my groaning…” In this reading Job
is giving voice to his deep feeling of abandonment by God: “If I go forward, he
is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; on the left he hides… I turn
to the right, but cannot behold him…”
I wonder if any of us can relate to that feeling
of being abandoned by God.
That theme, of course, is repeated in Psalm 22,
the famous psalm quoted by Jesus as he hung on the cross: “My God, my God, why
have you forsaken me? And are so far
from my cry, and from the words of my distress?”
Who among us hasn’t felt that sense of abandonment
at some point in our lives? I know I
have.
You know, I think there are basically two kinds of
religion in this world. There are the
religions who almost never let Job get a word in edgewise. For those religions, our suffering is always only
temporary, and almost always our fault.
If we only had a little more faith; if we only gave God a little more
credit; if we only gave the church a little more money – then God would swoop
in there and fix our problems and rescue us from our sense of abandonment.
And then there are the religions – and these are
the more rare religions – that let Job speak his peace. These are the religions that acknowledge the
reality of suffering and don’t try to blame the victim for that suffering. These are the religions that respect the fact
that sometimes life is very very hard; and that there aren’t always magical
answers to our problems; that sometimes when we get sick, we stay sick, and
then we get sicker, and then after a long and heroic battle, we die; and that
death is not a sign of failure but rather the way in which nature replenishes
itself; these are the religions that understand suffering as an invitation to
come to terms with our mortality and our limits. We don’t feel a need, as Job’s friends did,
to shut Job up. Rather, we feel the need
to draw closer to Job; and hold him up when he feels faint; and rub his tired
muscles when he is sore; and wash his feet when he comes in from the road. We see our suffering as something that draws
us together, rather than splits us apart; and as we care for one another in our
suffering, we discover the healing power of God, holding us close, deepening
our love, expanding our hearts.
I’d like to think this church is that kind of
religion. We live in prayer; we pray for
miracles, and we see them every day; but we don’t need miracles to know that
God exists. Instead, we only need one
another.
A few weeks ago, during the sermon time, we handed
around sheets of paper and asked each of you to tell us about your suffering:
what is the biggest real-world challenge facing you? What keeps you up at night? What do you worry about during the day? And we asked, how are those challenges a
spiritual challenge to you, and what can we as a community do to support you as
you wrestle with that challenge.
Over the course of those 3 services that Sunday, we
collected 130 slips of paper. As soon as
I got into the office that week, I read through all of them, in prayer; and it
was a very moving experience. I want to
thank each of you for the honesty and sincerity of your replies.
It probably won’t surprise you to learn that a lot
of us are worried about our health. But
what I noticed was that most of us are more worried about someone else’s health
than we are about our own. We worry
about our spouse or partner, or a parent, or a child. Which just goes to show – sometimes our
suffering is harder on the ones we love than it is on us.
We also found that many of us are burdened by
concerns about our closest relationships: our marriages are under strain, we
have difficulties with our children, we live with broken relationships that cry
out for forgiveness and reconciliation. And
a number of us struggle with loneliness; the grief of losing a spouse or a partner;
trouble making friends and connections.
But by far the number one concern – the issue that
came up more than any other issue – was, guess what? Money.
Financial concerns. It was truly
an eye opener for me to see just how many of us are worried about money. This recession has kicked our butts. Many of us have lost a lot of our retirement
savings; some of us are facing foreclosure or have gone through bankruptcy; and
just about all of us are feeling a major challenge feeling financially secure and
stable in this world.
The Spiritual Formation committee is going to be
going over these results more systematically but one thing I think is obvious –
many of us could use some support around money.
I remember once I was leading a Bible Study back
in Boston; we were looking at some of Jesus’ parables about money and I asked
the group if anyone there had a concern about money. And
this fairly wealthy businessman said, Yeah, I’ve got a problem with money – my problem
is I don’t have enough of it.
A number of other folks nodded their heads at this;
someone even wondered why, while Jesus was out there multiplying the loaves and
fishes, he couldn’t have also multiplied the stocks and the bonds.
But then we got into it on a deeper level, of
course, and we began to admit that the problem really had to do with our
relationship with money. Now, this isn’t
to minimize or diminish the fact that many of us are dealing with very serious
financial problems. Many of us in this
parish are deeply in debt, or genuinely poor.
But even so, we also have to recognize that just about every person in
this room is better off than most of the people on the planet. Most of us have seen enough of the rest of
the world to know that, as poor as we feel, we have so much more than most
people on earth. Many of us have visited
third-world countries; we’ve been absolutely amazed at the generosity of the poor
people we’ve met there. And yet we’re
the ones worrying about money far more than they are.
This, of course, is one of the first signs of
wealth: as a general rule, the more money we have, the more we worry about
money. The more we possess, the more our
possessions possess us.
Nothing new there.
So what’s the solution?
I used to think that my own anxiety around money
had to do with simply wanting the basics.
All I want, I used to think, is to know that I’ve got a roof over my
head; if I just didn’t have to worry about losing my house, I’d be fine; and if
I could just be assured that I had 3 meals a day; and decent health insurance;
and, I don’t know, a cell phone that worked; and a wi-fi signal for my
computer; and a car that didn’t break down.
That was it. Then I’d be happy. Oh, and maybe a pension plan. And dental insurance. That would be great. And a bicycle. Was that so much to ask, to have a bike to
ride around on? And maybe, you know, a
little bit at the end of the week to maybe take in a movie and a pizza. That would be it. Then I’d be happy.
And so it goes, right? And every time we get a little bit more
money, there’s just one or two more things that seem perfectly reasonable to us
that would make us feel content.
And so it goes; we’ve stepped onto the treadmill,
chasing after the illusion of security and happiness by means of material
possessions. And it never ends. Until one day we’re shelling out for the pool
boy and the gardener and the nanny and the butler and the second vacation home in
Provence and complaining about taxes and the price of caviar and never, ever feeling
secure.
This is the problem with the rich young man in our
gospel reading. The young man has come
to Jesus in his best velvet robe. Pinned
to his cap is a jewel the size of an egg, gleaming in the sun. But his eyes are troubled.
"What must I do to inherit eternal
life?" he asks. He’s looking for eternal happiness; for the kind of bliss
and security that never fades away.
Jesus looks into the young man’s soft face. He sees a good man; he’s not evil or wretched
or greedy – he’s like us – except richer.
He follows the law, he loves God and his neighbor. Isn't that enough? Shouldn't that be enough? What else could possibly be required?
But Jesus sees the deeper problem; and lays down
the ultimate challenge: "Sell everything you have, give the money to the
poor, and come, follow me."
Jesus uses extreme examples in order to drive home
his point and emphasize his seriousness.
It’s not that Jesus thinks poverty is such a swell deal everyone should
try it. It’s not that Jesus wants us all
to experience the joy of sleeping on sidewalks and begging for food – Jesus
doesn’t want that for us any more than he wants us to pluck out our eyes if
they cause us to sin.
No, Jesus uses extreme teaching examples like that
to get our attention. But he does want us
to understand this very important point: to the degree that our possessions
possess us, we are hiding from God. To
the degree that we continue to think that our happiness and our security
depends on having more stuff, we are lost to God.
And the cure for that is to move in the opposite
direction. Practice giving stuff
away. Practice generosity. Try being ridiculously generous and see how
it feels. Get rid of all those things in
your life that you thought at one time you needed, only to find their glitter
fade and their appeal diminish the moment you possess them.
Step off the treadmill, Jesus says. Discover the joy of giving; give, and
experience the freedom that comes from not being owned by your
possessions. Live simply, and discover
the joy of the earth’s abundance, the true security that comes from living in
balance with God and with nature. Do
more of that – and the path to salvation will stretch out before you like a gleaming
highway shining in the sun.
As I said at the beginning of this sermon, we all
wrestle with feelings that God has abandoned us. But what Jesus is asking us to consider is
how we abandon God – by creating idols of gold; worshiping the golden calf of
our own desires and insecurities. Practice
generosity – and see if maybe the joy that comes from that doesn’t draw us
closer to the heart of God. My prayer is
that we will all open our hearts ever more to this invitation from Jesus – and in
the process we will know eternal life.
Amen.
