St. John’s Lutheran Church
13 October 2024 + Lectionary 28b
Mark 10:17-31
Rev. Josh Evans
“You know the commandments.”
Do you, Jesus?
Because you only named six of them.
You couldn’t even name all ten of the big ones –
let alone the other 603 that are outlined in the law of Moses.
Did you forget a few –
hoping (as apparently is the case) that no one would notice,
or that they’ll be too afraid to say anything out loud?
But that’s not the point of this story, right?
This story is about “The Rich Man” –
as my study Bible, and probably your Bible at home, titles it.
This “Rich Man” who doesn’t even get a name –
even though he’s exactly the kind of person –
rich and powerful and not a woman –
that the writers of scripture typically privilege with a name.
Except – the thing is, that’s not the title of this story.
There are, in fact, no titles of any kind in the Bible –
only later editorial additions
by contemporary translators, interpreters, and publishers.
And so, to give this story a title
and its protagonist (or is it antagonist?) an identity
not explicitly named by Mark
already pigeonholes him into a certain category in our mind.
It’s hard to imagine –
since most of us have always heard this story
through the lens of translation editors and their interpretive headings –
but what difference does it make to read the text at face value?
In Mark, he is simply “a man.”
In Matthew, a “young man.”
And in Luke, a “certain ruler.”
Yes, Mark goes on to tell us he has “many possessions.”
And Jesus later laments wealth as an impediment to entering the kingdom of God.
But before all that…
before the teaching,
before the follow-up Q&A with the disciples,
is a man,
who runs up to Jesus,
who kneels at his feet,
in a posture of humility,
apparently recognizing that Jesus is someone important,
who has something worth listening to.
Here is a man
who asks Jesus a legitimate question:
“‘What must I do to inherit eternal life?’
What do I have to do to join this kingdom of God movement?
How can I be a part of this community that you’re building, Jesus?”
The man admits,
as Jesus suggests,
that he has kept the commandments for as long as he can remember.
He knows what it means to be a faithful and observant Jew,
and to maintain his identity as an Israelite, even under foreign occupation.
Keeping the commandments is what it means to belong to this community.
Then, all of a sudden,
Jesus comes along,
shaking things up,
proclaiming that the “kingdom of God” has come near:
“Repent! Believe in the good news!” (What does that even mean?)
And the man is not so sure anymore,
uncertain whether he still belongs,
whether he’s doing the “right” things. (Are there more commandments?)
Here is a man
who wants to belong –
to be a part of something –
and so he comes running to Jesus
to ask how.
And then:
Something remarkable happens:
“Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said …”
Said what? It doesn’t matter. At least not right now.
Here is a man
whom Jesus sees and loves.
This story is, in fact,
the only story Mark tells us about someone being loved by Jesus.
And, in fact, the only other instance of the word “love” in all of Mark’s gospel
will come two chapters later,
when Jesus is asked about the greatest commandment.
Words matter,
and this short little phrase is no exception:
“Jesus, looking at him, loved him.”
As if to say:
You are already a part of this community –
not for anything you have done or might do,
but because I love you …
You belong.
There is more to the story,
but before all that
is love.
Love first.
And there is more to the story:
“You lack one thing,” Jesus goes on.
“Go, sell what you own,
and give the money to the poor,
and you will have treasure in heaven;
then come, follow me.”
Then, all of a sudden,
the earnest would-be disciple who ran to the feet of Jesus,
who asked what he needed to do to be a part of this movement …
… walks away, grieving.
Why?
Because now he has to give up everything he has?
Or because he’s just been informed that –
for all he has –
he still “lacks” something (and therefore doesn’t “have it all”)?
And what happens after he walks away?
Presumably, as the “title” of this story would have us believe,
the rich man goes on to become even more tight-fisted,
even more attached to his wealth –
a sort of first-century Ebenezer Scrooge (before the four ghosts).
And so the story becomes a morality story:
Don’t be like the rich man.
But Mark doesn’t tell us
what happens after he walks away.
There’s no neat and tidy resolution –
a technique Mark seems to be quite keen on,
all the way until the end …
So they went out and fled from the tomb,
for terror and amazement had seized them,
and they said nothing to anyone,
for they were afraid.
(Mark 16:8)
Mark the evangelist,
patron saint of the cliff-hanger.
Which necessarily must leave room
for imagination.
“Maybe,”
one theologian speculates,
“he was in the crowd at the foot of the cross,
or a hearer on the day of Pentecost;
maybe he became an unsung evangelist.”
What happens if we read this story
not as “The Rich Man”
but as “The Man Whom Jesus Sees and Loves”?
Does it become easier to find ourselves in this story,
in the place of this unnamed man?
Here is someone
who is faithful,
who yearns to belong,
who runs to Jesus,
who asks questions,
who is open to learning more …
and who, admittedly, struggles with the answer,
who grapples with what it all means.
Here is a case study in being a disciple.
I love you,
Jesus says with a knowing gaze,
You belong.
You belong to me …
and … you belong to your community.
You know the commandments.
It’s no mistake that Jesus quotes only these six –
the ones that have to do with being in relationship with other people,
about living in community.
As Jesus will soon summarize, only two chapters later,
Love your neighbor as yourself.
Jesus invites us to a place of belonging
in the kingdom of God –
a place where it’s not all about me,
but about us.
Love your neighbor as God loves you –
unconditionally, generously, extravagantly.
Be transformed
by love.
