The Rich Young Man Grows Up (Encounters with Jesus 1)

Euan Tait, 12 September 2000

 Reflection for St. Wilfrid's Church, Sunday@6 on 8 October, 2000

Texts used: RYM: Mk.10,17-31.RMLaz: L16,19-31. RMdies: L1213-21 also - Zacc:L191-9. Widow's Offering:L211-2. Treasures in Heaven: Mat6,19-24.

It had to be. At least, that's what he told himself later. He'd met Jesus, and the experience was devastating. Jesus had been, as always, utterly real. This rich young man had greeted Jesus, he thought, lovingly, but Jesus had turned his flattery away, and faced him immediately with the straightforward truth: "Why do you call me good? No one is good - except God. You know the commandments.."

The pain for the young man had become much worse than that, however. Jesus saw right into the loving heart that lay trapped within the young man, had loved what He'd seen; yet also, He'd seen the barriers the rich young man had erected round that heart. Jesus, looking at him with His gentle, yet focused gaze, told him that if he was to be really true to God, truly loving, and so store up treasure in heaven, then those barriers had to go, he had to sell the goods that were keeping him from himself and the love of God. They were the young man's refusals.

The young man perhaps had expected to be flattered, some gentle way forward shown, some sort of encouraging affirmation given. Instead, Jesus caught the door of his closing heart, had given the young man a chance to see himself as he truly was. He'd made the young man see that he had two choices, the pain of living through agonising, possibly humiliating change, or of remaining trapped but unhurt. The rich young man chose to turn away.

Life had, of course to go on. How dare Jesus shown so little respect for him. The pain was terrible. As far as he was concerned, he continued to live a loving life, for God's sake! He loved his friends, welcomed them, listened to them, was a great and generous host. The pain Jesus had given him subsided as he saw that, actually, he had much to offer people. He had a good friendship with a man called Lazarus, a poor and frankly sickly looking man who sat outside his city house. They greeted each other, he'd even learnt a little about the man' life, but when Lazarus started asking for food, he wasn't getting hooked into that.

The rich man had worked hard all his life, and had amassed great wealth. One afternoon, sat at home, he suddenly started laughing. He thought, "What a fool I am. I've put myself under such stress that my health is failing. I'm going to scrap all my existing accounts, and put my wealth into income bearing accounts, and enjoy my friends! Actually enjoy life." He fell asleep peacefully. He was a man of faith, and slept well. He'd been sad when Lazarus died. Even though Jesus had hurt him so badly so long ago, he'd always wanted the love of God close to him. As Jesus had said as he walked away: "Nothing is impossible with God." Now his Friend seemed to speak to him in the middle of his contented sleep. The voice was clear, and familiar. "You fool! This very night your life will be demanded of you!" The rich man didn't wake up. Later, as if in a dream, he could see his old friend Lazarus, far off and unreachable through an apparently impassable barrier.

As we live our faith and our lives, we too are confronted with the two aspects of our same Friend, Jesus. Jesus who knows us and loves us utterly, with our wrong choices, our constant falling, our broken motives and drives, our capacity to love beyond ourselves and yet our limitations and vulnerability: it is all completely acknowledged in him, accepted and understood. The liberating truth of all hearts being open, all desires known, no secrets hidden. This is what Psalm 139 sings when it says that he saw us and knew us at our very beginnings, and that there is not a thought or word or feeling in us that is not totally known by Him. As a child of God, we can rest in him.

Yet Jesus also calls us to growth, to change, to truthful self-examination. This is what he means when he says: "I have come not to bring peace but a sword." We're called forth from the place where we are stuck and unhappy. Perhaps we're even comfortable there, only too grateful not to change, though Jesus knows us and where we are in our lives, and never demands more of us than we can bear. Yet being called forth may mean that we have barriers round our hearts that have to go. In the rich young man's case, this was his wealth, which had come to prevent him from truly being the loving man Jesus saw he could be. The point is not so much the wealth, although these stories do warn against the isolating effects of greed, how it can put people on a proud pedestal. These stories do not decry hard work; rather, they show how riches were to become an impassable barrier around the broken heart of that wealthy man, how the barrier against love in his case was his money. The story invites us to seek out what in us cuts us off from our loving selves. This does not mean our being unloving to ourselves, driving ourselves so hard that we become overwhelmed. What it means is that we risk listening to him. This may involve a painful and humiliating letting go of what we thought we were. We build up an image of ourselves; in the light of God's creating love for us, it may have to change.

I believe it is what happened at the Crucifixion which shows these two aspects of Jesus in their true, united relationship, how in that terrible yet saving event He expressed God's utter love for us. He did not simply give us His truth and leave us to it. His death on the Cross was the point at which He entered, without holding any of Himself back, right into the heart of our struggles. Jesus does not stand outside of our lives, judging us and racheting up the tensions within us with a pack of impossible rules. He is with us as we struggle and fall, lose heart and strength. Is this not the same Jesus who was so terrified in Gethsemane that he asked to be relieved of this "cup of suffering", the same Jesus who felt abandoned and lost? Wherever we go, Jesus is there before us; He is present no matter what we go through because His own heart has experienced those same feelings. It is because of this that He is able to disturb us in love with the reality of ourselves, is able to call us to remove those barriers around us which prevent us from becoming more loving, to completely change, if we must.

Our own lives have seen the reality of what this love, either of ourselves or others, costs. We don't need to be reminded of its toughness. Maybe we've been a parent, or cared for a sick love one, or struggled with some limitation in ourselves for years. If we're lucky we find a friend who, while they are obviously compassionate and accepting, somehow expresses our unease with ourselves, somehow touches on what in us must change. This person will not be the bully that we can also encounter, but rather a truthful friend. We can be certain they will make us angry. Of course they will, they see into our most vulnerable place, which we spend so much of our energy protecting. Jesus was uncompromising when he saw the destructive sickness of the authorities of His day; he told them what he saw, without flinching. He stirred up, along with their pain and self - disgust, a murderous anger, and they pushed Him away and got rid of Him. It is only natural that we will want to push away our unease. But the sort of friend who accepts and at the same time sees us for what we are is vital to our growth as loving people. If we are prepared to face reality then we draw closer to the source of love.

Our lives as a church community also face this process of change, of challenge, of being called forth. Our parish mission is being called constantly to greater conformity with Christ's heart of love. Individuals within our community will point us, through their beauty and their ordinariness, to Christ, to what He asks of us. Situations, requests from others for help, the needs of our town and the most vulnerable in the area, financial concerns and fears about the roof over our heads, will present us with exactly the same dilemmas as the rich man faced. It may be that something has to change in our community if we are to deepen our witness of love to the place where we live. Our mission has evolved and will continue to do so. But God knows us totally, knows our failings and limitations as a community; He will, as we contemplate the future direction of this mission, warn us, as Paul says, to "judge ourselves soberly according to the measure of faith which God has given us." But He also knows our gifts and our potential, and it is to the honest of development of these, a true response to others as they call us, that God calls us.

"Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and peace have kissed each other."

So sings Psalm 85. We can risk God, knowing this of Him, that he will cut through the many layers of resistance in us because He loves us; that in Him who we are is lovingly embraced.

Euan Tait 

Copyright © 2000 [Euan Tait]. All rights reserved.
Revised: September 06, 2010 .