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Sunday October 15, 2006 - Proper 23, Year B

You know how it is when you're heading out on a journey. Doesn't matter whether it's vacation or work, there are a hundred and one things to do. Trash to get out, mail to stop, bags to pack. Of course the dryer has malfunctioned, and the clothes you'd planned to wear have that damp clammy feeling. The cat has gone into hiding, and no amount of calling or offers of treats is enough to lure him out. And you just realized that the credit card bill is due in 2 days, and if you don't get it paid you won't be able to charge the hotel room. You have exactly 7 minutes to be out the door, and things are not looking good.
And then the phone rings. And it's a friend, in the middle of a crisis, and they need your advice. How come it always happens like this?

It was one of those days for Jesus. It was time to leave, to set out on their way to Jerusalem if they were to get there in time for the Passover celebrations. They might not have had mail and a drier and cat to deal with, but it was the usual rush of packing, gathering their things together into manageable bundles, making sure they hadn't left anything behind, saying goodbye to the people who had given them a place to sleep. They'd managed to sneak out the back door without the crowd noticing, people as usual gathered at the front of the house in the hope Jesus would come and work some miracles. And they were just about out of the village
when suddenly a man ran up and fell on his knees in front of Jesus.

You can just imagine what Jesus and the disciples felt. Just once, just once, it would have been good to sneak away quietly and get on their way early instead of late.

But as usual
Jesus stopped.
"What is it?" he asked the man. "Please, good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"
You can just hear Jesus sighing. "You know the answer. Follow the commandments."
"But I do. I've done all this since I was a kid."
And Jesus looked at him, and knew
that what he was going to say
was going to be hard for the man to hear.
"Just one thing. You need to sell everything you own,
and give the money
to the poor. Then come,
follow me."

And the man's shoulders slumped,
and he slowly stood up, avoiding Jesus' eyes,
and turned back toward town.
And the disciples picked up their belongings
and began to head down the road.

But Jesus hadn't finished. Almost to himself he said, "How hard it is for rich people to make it to heaven."

One fo the disciples turned around. "Did you just say, it's hard for rich people to get to heaven?"
Because it made no sense. Everyone knew
that riches
were a sign of God's blessing.
Do good, and God will bless you. Do bad, and God will curse you. That's what they'd always been taught. And so if you were wealthy, if you'd received a bunch of blessings, then obviously
you were good
and God loved you. Heaven would be no problem. So what was Jesus saying?

"How hard it is for rich people to make it to heaven. It's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle
than a rich man
to enter heaven."

They would have laughed if they hadn't been so worried. It was ludicrous.
Think about the size of the eye of a needle . . .
and the size of a camel.
No camel I know,
even a toy one,
would fit through the eye of any needle.
And even if as some people have suggested,
Jesus was referring to a small gate into Jerusalem known as the eye of the needle,
a camel still wouldn't fit without a whole lot of pushing and shoving,
and in any case
there seems to be no evidence of the existence
of such a gate!

And the disciples' response makes it clear:
it's impossible. No camel can make it through the eye of a needle. No one who is rich can make it into heaven.
"Who can be saved then?" they asked.
And Jesus answered, "No one. It's impossible, or at least, it is for humans; but with God
all things are possible."

Peter missed that bit of the conversation. After Jesus's comment about the rich man and the needle's eye, he'd walked ahead a bit. And so he was still puzzling over the image
of a camel
trying to squeeze through the needle's eye, and getting stuck after the frist whisker.

"So," he thought, "if rich people can't get to heaven without selling everything, so that they become poor, maybe that means we're okay. Because we've given up everything. We're poor — no money to get in the way. Maybe we get special entry."

So he came back to Jesus. "Jesus, we've given up everything already to follow you. Does that mean we're in?"

But Jesus isn't into easy answers. "Everyone who has given things up, will receive them back, and much much more. But they'll also get
persecution. But the first will be last
and the last will be first."
And with that
he headed down the road
and refused to answer any more questions
leaving the disciples to puzzle it out for themselves.

And us. We're just as confused as those first disciples.
Most of us
aren't particularly rich.
Some of us
barely scrape by,
some of us struggle.
Some have finally reached a point where we have enough
for a few luxuries.
But I don't see too many people at Trinity
with private jets
and luxury mansions and servants.
Though they'd be welcome if they came.

But I suspect none of us
would see ourselves in the position of the man who came to Jesus.
And yet
I wonder.
Because I suspect
that we're more like him
than we'd like to think.
And we're also more like Peter.

Because somewhere, deep inside, most of us want to know
what do we have to do
to make it to heaven.
And most of us think, somewhere deep down inside
that what really matters
is that we are good people.
What that means
is probably different for each of us.
Being good
might be about not lying or stealing.
It might be being kind.
It might be being generous.
If we're good, whatever it means,
then God will have to let us in.

But as far as I can work out from what Jesus says,
that's not how it works.
Doesn't matter how good we are,
doesn't matter
how much we have,
earning our way into heaven
doesn't work.
Because God isn't like Santa Claus.
If you're good you get a reward; if you're bad you get punished.
God doesn't work like that at all.
Instead
it's all about grace.

Nothing
we do
can get us into heaven.
Nothing.
It's all God.
We can jump around outside
waving our hands, hoping God will notice us because we've been good or have been successful or are extra holy, because we've obeyed the commandments or given everything away for Jesus' sake,
but it doesn't matter.
That's not how God works.
God invites us, God invites us
not because of who we are or what we have or what we've done,
but because God loves us.
That's it.
It's impossible for us to get in ourselves,
but what's impossible for us
is possible for God.

Recently I sent in for a free ticket to an event. I didn't have to pay anything; all I had to do
was send in a stamped self addressed envelope on a certain day.
This week I got my ticket.
Now all I have to do
is organize my life
so can actually show up for the event

It's as if God offers us all a ticket.
We can't get into heaven without it, and we don't have to do anything to get it. It's God's thing.

But — and as the man found, there is a but — it's our choice
whether we actually go ahead and use the ticket.
Because to use it,
we might have to do things a little differently. We might need to clear out our lives some,
to give up some things,
to be willing to trust God
to take us places we might not have planned to go.
All that
is part of following Jesus.
And that's what Jesus
was trying to say to the man.
Sometimes
you need to leave the camel behind,
whatever it is
that's getting in the way
of you following Jesus,
of you using
your ticket
to heaven.

And if you do, if you take that risk,
things will be better than you could ever imagine. It won't always be easy,
but it will be good.
Good, because you will have placed yourself in the hands
of our strong and loving God,
who will hold you close
now
and for ever.

 

Sermon ©Raewynne J. Whiteley 2006