Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost
- Oct 14, 2015
- 5 min read
Since this morning is the start of our stewardship program,
I’ve been thinking about the meaning of stewardship this week
in the light of today’s scripture readings,
especially our Gospel story.
As you might know, in the Episcopal Church,
we don’t get to choose the Sunday readings,
and this story from Mark certainly is an interesting one
for kicking off a parish stewardship campaign.
In the story,
a man comes up to Jesus
and asks him what he needs to do to inherit eternal life.
And Jesus says to him,
“You know the commandments:
‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery;
You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness.
You shall not defraud; Honor your father and your mother.”
And the man says in reply to Jesus,
“Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”
Then, the story goes, Jesus looks at him, loves him, and says:
“You lack one thing;
go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor,
and you will have treasure in heaven;
then come, follow me.”
When the man hears this, he is shocked,
and he goes away grieving,
for he has many possessions.
Now this man comes to Jesus thinking he’s been doing all the right things.
By his own admission,
he’s been diligent about keeping
the major tenants of the Law since his childhood.
He’s avoided the Wrong Things.
He’s done the Right Things.
He’s done what has been required of him.
Dotted his Is and crossed his Ts.
And maybe he assumes, because Jesus is a rabbi, a teacher of the Law,
that Jesus is simply going to confirm that he’s well on the way to inheriting eternal life.
Maybe he expects Jesus to congratulate him, and say “hey, nice job, keep it up!”
But as is so often the case,
Jesus hasn’t just come to confirm all our expectations.
He’s come to show us another way.
To give us life
Not just one day in the future, in heaven.
But today. Now.
In the moment when we are set free to follow him.
You know, as I read this story again this week,
it dawned on me that most important part of the story
might not be the end of the story,
the part where the rich man goes away grieving.
The most important part might actually come before
Jesus tells the man to give his possessions away.
The part that says,
“Jesus, looking at him, loved him.”
Jesus looking at him, loved him.
Literally translated from the Greek,
this line reads,
Jesus looks at him in the eye with love.
In other words, Jesus sees inside the man.
He sees deep inside him.
Into his soul.
In the letter to the Hebrews that we also heard today,
Paul writes that because no part of us is hidden from God—
because before God, we stand naked, bare—
God is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of our hearts.
And this is what Jesus does in the story:
he looks inside the heart of this man.
He sees all of him
and with the greatest love imaginable.
And I think what Jesus might see in the man
is someone whose heart isn’t in the game.
Someone who is holding back his heart from God.
Someone who isn’t free to give his heart to God.
And of course it’s the man’s heart that Jesus wants most of all.
Not just someone who does all the right things out of obligation,
because that’s what he has to do to inherit eternal life.
No, Jesus came to set us free
from whatever keeps us from giving God our hearts;
free so that we might follow him.
You know, I have to say,
part of me really identifies with the man in the Gospel today.
Sometimes, it’s easy to make faith in God about things we’re supposed to do.
For faith to become kind of like a checklist.
And if only we do all the Right Things,
and avoid all of Wrong Things,
then we’ll be good with God.
I think clergy, who’re in the professional business of faith,
are probably especially susceptible to this line of thinking.
If only we show up and do the Right Things
then the church will grow and thrive.
But of course, if our hearts aren’t in it,
if we’re only here because we’re supposed to be,
church growth and health will be short-lived.
Going through the motions,
checking things off the list:
these aren’t enough.
For being a priest, or for following Jesus.
Jesus asks for something more from us.
He wants our hearts.
It’s a lot to ask from us.
It’s a lot harder to give our hearts to God
than to go through the motions
or check things off the list
or do things out of obligation .
Giving out hearts is a lot riskier.
But also, it’s a lot more life giving.
This I think is where stewardship comes back in.
Yes, as many of you know, stewardship is about giving to church.
Giving from the treasuries of our time, our ministry, and our money.
And I hope you will consider giving generously
as you are able.
But from your heart.
You see, it’s easy to approach stewardship kind of like the rich man
approached his faith.
As just something we have to do.
As an obligation.
As part of the “business” of the church.
Part of our duty as church members.
This is certainly one way to approach stewardship.
I’ve certainly seen stewardship in this way sometimes.
Sometimes I still do.
And to me,
and perhaps to some of you who’ve seen stewardship this way,
Jesus looks at us as he did the rich man,
deep inside us,
and he loves us
with the greatest love imaginable,
and he wants our hearts in the game.
Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also
Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount.
Yes, stewardship can be an obligation.
It can be something we check off our list.
Something we do because we should do.
Or something that makes us feel guilty if we don’t do—
like the fundraising drives on Public Radio this time of year!
But stewardship can also be something else:
an invitation for us to offer more of our hearts to God.
And it’s our hearts that God wants most of all,
not our money or our time or our ministry without our hearts.
Some of you probably know that beautiful Christmas hymn
“In the Bleak Midwinter” by the poet Christina Rossetti.
It’s one of my favorites, and especially the last stanza,
and I wanted to close with that today:
What can I give Him, Poor as I am? If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb, If I were a wise man I would do my part, Yet what I can I give Him, Give my heart.
May this season of stewardship at St. Peter’s set you free to do exactly this.
Amen.
Comments