One thing left

Psalm 90; Mark 10: 17-31

First Church of Christ, UCC, Woodbridge, CT

October 14, 2012

 

To annihilate the Self-hood of Deceit and False Forgiveness, William Blake, 1804

 

 

             Francis of Assisi, whose feast day was ten days ago on October 4, was the son of a wealthy cloth merchant in the Umbrian province of Italy in the late 12^th and early 13^th century.  He lived a comfortable life of beauty, leisure, education, and even fought as a soldier against the neighboring town of Perugia on behalf of his town Assisi.  But wealth or battle did not bring the glory that Francis sought or a sense of purpose for his life.  After being captured and held for a year in a dungeon, Francis returned home disillusioned. 

 

            Francis’ transformation to a man of peace and poverty did not happen overnight but through a series of visions, dreams and encounters with God.  In his searching for God he came across a leper while riding through the countryside.  Even though he was repulsed by the sight and smell of this deformed creature, Francis got off his horse and kissed the hand of the leper.  When the poor man returned his kiss of peace, Francis was filled with joy and took this as a blessing from God.

 

            Some time later Francis was led to the ruins of an ancient church named San Damiano.  While praying there he heard Christ speak to him from the cross, saying “Francis, repair my church.”  Francis interpreted these words to mean to rebuild the ruins of this country church.  Francis then took some of his father’s cloth and sold it to buy what he needed for building supplies.  Francis’ father saw this as an act of theft and brought his son before the bishop for justice.

 

The bishop told Francis to return the money, that God would provide what was needed.  Francis gave back not only the money from the sale of his father’s goods but also all the clothing he was wearing, even stripping himself of his father’s name, declaring that he was now completely free, like the birds of the air and the flowers in the field.  He went to live as a beggar, depending on the kindness of others and the mercy of God.  He rebuilt the church of San Damiano and went on to repair the wider Church, the Body of Christ, with words of peace, trust and hope.  And it is Francis we have to thank for the tradition of the crèche or nativity scene at Christmas.

 

He founded a community of friars or brothers, another for women, the Order of St. Clare or Poor Clares as they were also known and another called the Third Order, for those who wished to live the Gospel in secular living.  The rule of St. Francis or the Franciscan way of living came from three scriptures in the gospels:  the order to the disciples to take nothing on their journey, the command to take up one’s cross daily, and this morning’s lectionary reading where Jesus tells the rich man to sell all he has and give it to the poor. 

 

 

St. Francis of Assisi & Doves, Cyra R. Cancel, 2009

 

            Like Francis, the rich man in today’s lectionary reading is also disillusioned with life.  Francis lived his young adult years according to the way he was raised; so has this rich Jewish man according to the laws of Moses and the Ten Commandments.  He’s done everything right, followed all the rules, and enjoys a comfortable life.  What’s wrong with that?  We have plenty of people like that in our world today, even ourselves.  We’ve earned what we have, fair and square.  And yet, are we not troubled?

 
 

When I closed my eyes so I would not see

 My Lord did trouble me

 When I let things stand that should not be

 My Lord did trouble me

 When I held my head too high too proud

 My Lord did trouble me

 When I raised my voice too little too loud

 My Lord did trouble me

 

 

            A life with Jesus is not a rose garden.  Jesus has this way of looking at us, not with judgment but with the same fierce love he directs at this rich man, a love that accepts us as we are but will not allow us to remain that way.  And it is through this lens of love that Jesus sees the one thing left, the one thing that keeps this rich man from following Jesus with joyous abandon.

 

            Even the disciples who have left everything behind to follow Jesus have one thing left, one thing that keeps them from joyous abandon.  Peter sounds as if he is saying, “What more do you want from us?”  What I can hear Jesus reply is, “Your pride, your stubborn will, your surrender.”  Yes, the disciples followed Jesus.  They did not walk away sad from Jesus, but walked with him, willing to leave behind everything and everyone.  Yet they still held onto a willful unwillingness to understand Jesus and the path he was on, perhaps because they knew where it would lead.

 

 

Did trouble me
With a word or a sign
With the ringing of the bell in the back of my mind
Did trouble me
Did stir my soul
For to make me human, to make me whole

 
 

            We all have our pushpoint, that limit we reach when we refuse to go any further, we can’t see beyond the present situation, when we’ve had enough and have no more to give.  We can’t imagine a future that leads from this place of sorrow or pain or emptiness or disillusionment.  And yet we seek it nonetheless.  Regardless of our reality, life goes on.

 

            In the movie “Out of Africa”, when Karen Blixen has lost her farm, her possessions, her husband to another woman, even her lover to his freedom, she devises a game to help her bear her circumstances.  She thinks of being on safari, the camp by the river, flying for the first time and seeing the world through God’s eye, how good it all was—her life in Africa.  And now that she has to leave it, she remembers it all, until she just can’t stand it.  Then she goes one moment more, increasing her sorrow beyond her ability to handle it.  Only then does Karen know that she can bear anything.

 

When I slept too long, slept too deep
My Lord did trouble me
Put a worrisome vision into my sleep
My Lord did trouble me
When I held myself away and apart
My Lord did trouble me
And the tears of my brother didn't move my heart
My Lord did trouble me

 

 

            Mother Theresa once said, “Give, but give until it hurts.”  Give right into your limits, to that point where you think you can’t bear it any more.  But Jesus wants us to give not at the point at which we can’t stand it any longer, but to give beyond that.  Jesus wants to trouble us so far that the first will be last and the last first.  Jesus wants that one last thing out of the way between his heart and ours. 

 
 

Did trouble me
With a word or a sign
With the ringing of the bell in the back of my mind
Did trouble me
Did stir my soul
For to make me human, to make me whole

 
 

            I don’t know about you but I can’t read this passage and think that I’ve done enough, that I’ve given enough, that I’ve sacrificed enough, for the sake of God’s kingdom of justice and peace.  According to globalrichlist.com my family is the 29,907,929 richest on earth, comfortably within the top 1%.  That only takes into account our annual income before taxes, not including our retirement savings, college savings for our daughters, or any stocks or other savings accounts.  Even then there are things we do without, such as a Smartphone, iPods or an iPad or tablet computer, cable TV, travel, or home improvements until they’re necessary.  We give to our church and this church, to the UCC special offerings, the schools that gave us a great education, to public radio and TV, the environment and other causes that are dear to us.

 

            And yet there will always be one thing left that will stand between us and God, unlike St. Francis who stood before his family, his village and his God with nothing but a heart full of love.  Even when we take one step closer, one step beyond our comfort zone, Jesus is there, looking at us with a fierce love, telling us that there is still one thing left.  How far are we willing to go?  What then is holding us back?

 

            What is the one thing left for this congregation to give that the first may be last and the last, first?  What is something you’re trying to pull off yourselves that seems impossible but not for God?  How is Jesus troubling you as an individual and as a community of faith?  What is the one thing left in your own life that is standing between you and joyous abandon?  To what are you holding on tightly and not about to let go?

 

And of this I'm sure, of this I know
My Lord will trouble me
Whatever I do and wherever I go
My Lord will trouble me
In the whisper of the wind, in the rhythm of a song
My Lord will trouble me
To keep me on the path where I belong
My Lord will trouble me

Will trouble me

With a word or a sign
With the ringing of the bell in the back of my mind
Will trouble me
Will stir my soul
For to make me human, to make me whole

 

Amen.