Lighten up!

Mark 10: 17-31
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
October 11, 2015

            Last week in Adult Ed., Rabbi Peter Grumbacher shared with us a Jewish method of scriptural interpretation called midrash. He described it as putting flesh on dry bones. One of the passages we looked at was in Genesis: the story of God calling Abram to leave his country, his family, and his father’s house to go where God would lead him. God called Abram to leave behind the foundations of his life, everything that gave him his identity. From my perspective, God wanted Abram to call upon God as country, kindred, and father’s house. God would now be the foundation of Abram’s life, that which supplied Abram’s identity, for it was then after that he was known as Abraham, the father of many.

            Funny thing was, Abraham didn’t go alone.  Of course, he took his wife Sarai, now Sarah, but also his brother’s son, Lot, all the possessions they had gathered, which would include livestock, and all the persons they had acquired, that is, slaves.  Though he did all God asked of him, he still had many possessions to take on this long journey with God.

            The story from the gospel of Mark sounds like putting flesh on the dry bones of the story of Abraham, of Jesus going deeper into what it means to be called by God on a journey of eternal, that is, abundant life.  It’s as if God has invited this young man on a camping trip. He’s read the guidebook, he’s followed the map; he’s prepared for this journey since he was a Boy Scout.

            But instead of being light on his feet, he’s pulled up in his shiny, two-ton pickup with his state-of-the-art travel trailer, tricked out with an electric fireplace, flatscreen TV, and microwave oven.  And yet Jesus doesn’t judge him for this.  There’s no rebuking, no finger-wagging, no questions asked.  Rather, Jesus looks at him, really looks at him, and loves him.  This rich young man is prepared for every eventuality, he has everything he needs for what may come, and yet he’s still seeking what it means to have an abundant life.  What more must he do?  Instead he hears Jesus tell him that he lacks only one thing.

            And in my mind’s eye I see Jesus looking like Jack Palance as Curly in the movie “City Slickers”.  “You know what the secret of life is?  One thing.  Just one thing.  You stick to that, and everything else don’t mean squat.”

            Earlier this week I asked the same question in a different way on my Facebook page:  “What's one thing you need to let go of to be a free, alive, joyful human being?”  I got over 40 responses, from college friends to seminary classmates, from colleagues to church folks here and far, from friends and family.  No smokescreens, no beating around the bush.  The honesty was searing.  People were seeking just as much as that rich young man.  Many of us had a guidebook of some sort.  Some of us had a map laid out for our lives; some of us got lost along the way, but we all had and have friends and support systems of some kind to help us through.  And yet inside all of us is this gnawing feeling that prevents us from leading a free, alive, joyful human life.

            Here’s what was said:  the words “should have”; comparison; fear; hate; the past; control; guilt; doubt; greed; ego; expectations; perfectionism; shame; the belief that I can do it all—or even should; grudges; other people’s standards; regret; blaming oneself and others; helplessness at the world’s problems; distractions; overthinking; always being in control of one’s feelings; prejudice of any kind; judgment of self and others; fear of the unknown; the feeling of not being good enough; and most of all, worry.

            Jesus lovingly confronted the rich young man because of his many possessions, but in our time we know that one of the main reasons we are burdened with so many possessions is so that we not feel this gnawing feeling of worry, guilt, fear, regret, shame; so we feel like we have some measure of control, prepared for any eventuality, so we have what looks like an abundant life.  

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            It all comes back to the foundations of our life, what gives us our identity, that which tells us who we are.  It’s not what’s in our bank account or our education or where we live or what we’ve achieved; if we’re the perfect friend, partner, child, parent, employee, leader, church person.  

            We can let go of all these things, all our worries, fears, regrets, the past we can’t change, the future we can’t know, because each of us is a child of God: beloved, precious, one of a kind.  And if you don’t believe in God, you are a child of this universe, made of star stuff, beloved, precious, one of a kind.  As the good doctor once said, “Today you are You, that is truer than true.  There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”

            What can be difficult some days is to remember it’s true not only for ourselves but for everyone else too.  Everyone is struggling with at least a burden or two but probably more.  Everyone is beloved, precious, one of a kind.  We all want to be free, alive, and joyful.  We all carry that gnawing feeling.

And it’s not just individuals.  It’s families and schools and churches and synagogues and temples and mosques.  It’s communities and workplaces and governments and nations.  We grab and claw, hurt and destroy, bicker and complain, murder and kill.  We don’t take the guidebook—the Bible, the Torah, the Qur’an, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights—as seriously as we need to.  We want to build more walls on the map.  We’re defunding our support systems.  We allow all this to dictate when we will feel free, alive, joyful, which is nowhere nearly as often as what the gospel calls eternal life.  Which always begins right  now.

We were created, all of us, all of this earth, for praise, delight, and joy; 

           to enjoy what it means to be human; 

           to grow through the struggle, to raise our voices when needed and help others as best as we can; 

           to lean into the mess of life and learn to love it—and to forgive when we can’t; to appreciate beauty wherever we can find it; 

           to travel lightly, to let go of that which burdens so that our hands are free to give and to receive; 

           to count it all as blessing.  For in this way, what we think comes first, is last, and what we leave for last, becomes first.  Amen.

"Freedom" by Zenos Frudakis, Philadelphia, PA