Almost inevitably in literature that emanates from any kind of messianic movement or whose interpreters are wont to trace its authority to an unseen deity, the reader will generally find radical, all-or-nothing mandates. One such occurs in the reading from Mark for this coming Sunday in which Jesus is depicted as telling one who asked him what the here-and-now cost of gaining eternal life in the then-and-there would be. The answer? Beyond observing the mitzvoth by solemn obedience was the matter of divesting oneself of possessions and giving the proceeds to the poor.
The inquirer, it is said, "went away grieving" because his lot in life was rich in "many possessions." What made him sad? The work involved in closing up his domestic shop and walking away with only the clothes on his back? Or the very prospect of being without the comfort of his possessions? Or both?
Lest there be anything pertinent left without ample clarification, Mark makes Jesus go on to say that one can more easily shove the frayed end of a ship's cable or hawser (κάμιλος) or a camel (κάμηλος) through the eye of a needle than to usher a rich person into the kingdom of God. Let it be understood that the eyes of first century CE needles were generally broader and longer than those we see in our grandmothers' etuis. Yet, the figure holds its fascination.
"Kingdom of God" is an opaque image. In the 21st century, we scorn kings and kingdoms, preferring democrats and democracies. It may help to know that the Greek New Testament word (βασιλεία) commonly translated "kingdom" can also mean "domain" or "rule." I prefer the term "rule." As to "God," what can anyone say? The gospel of Matthew, for different reasons than I would use it, uses the term "kingdom (or rule) of heaven." For rational 21st century people, "heaven" means neither a spatial or nor a temporal entity but a quality of life in the here-and-now that can be achieved through self-regulated human behavior.
Taken in that fashion, it is the unlikelihood of a rich person placing himself under "the rule of heaven" that is being talked about. The "rule of heaven," i.e. a social and civil society in which there is serious redistributive economic justice (yes, I'm talking about a form of socialism) is always and loudly objected to by those with the most to be redistributed, hence the cries of indignation from the one-percenters about redistributive economics -- as if such economics had not long since been woven into the fabric of our society, viz. the GI Bill, Social Security, Social Security disability, Medicare, Medicaid, etc.
How to appreciate the phenomenon of wealth? How to distinguish wealth from sufficiency, and sufficiency from want? These are questions that are raised, albeit not directly in this Markan text. It seems clear that the natural constituency of a person who spoke as Jesus was given to speak came from the ranks of those who, in a word image coined by J.D. Crossan, straddled the line between poverty and destitution and were probably, most of them, what we would call in our time "day laborers." If that is true, then the only way to understand Jesus' warning against the grasping of wealth is to see it as yet another challenge of the establishment. One inference is that the natural pre-occupation with the maintenance and conservation of wealth in whatever form insulates one from the reality of those who are poor.
The question is the inheritance of eternal life -- the Greek at this place seems to suggest life's dimensions of depth and breadth rather than length. The term "inherit" in the Greek suggests further that the eternal life the man sought is really his by right. So the question was, "Is there anything I need to do beyond keeping the commandments to claim my inheritance?"
The impossible retort to that -- and a back-handed insult to Torah (repository of the commandments) -- is, "Yes. One more thing. Sell all you own and distribute the proceeds to the poor." That is reminiscent of "giving up your coat as well as your cloak" (Matthew 5:40) -- That "one more thing" could not have been received by an overhearing establishment as anything other than an in-your-face challenge of its values and aspirations -- just as President Obama's vision of health care for all is still seen by the entrenched interests as tantamount to larceny. In the text, ironically it was the man's wealth that was directly in the path to claiming that inheritance.
It is bad enough that the man, shocked by his rude lesson, goes away sorrowful because he owned so much, but Jesus is made by Mark to add a midrash further critical of possessions. V. 23b says, pronouncement-like, "How hard it will be for those who have wealth to find a place in the rule of heaven" (my translation. "It will be hard to satisfy (δυσκόλως) those with wealth." Could it be that what is meant is that "the rule of heaven" isn't even rich enough for those who are already rich?
The idea that many who are now "first" will later be "last" is messianic in nature, as in "In that great day to come when we settle the hash of the rich, they'll be poor, and you who are now poor will have their wealth." That reminds one of the beatitude "Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the rule of heaven" (Matthew 5:3). Or even the Magnificat: "He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek. He hath filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he hath sent empty away" (Luke 1: 52-53).
The Markan text is backed up nicely by the others readings appointed in the RCL to accompany it: "How great is your transgression you who push aside the needy in the gate" (Amos) and from Hebrews with its reminder that such words as one reads in scripture are "sharper than any two-edged sword."
"Go sell what you own and give the money to the poor; then, come, follow me." Is that what one must do to be a true Christian? If everyone who heard that admonition took it to heart, more people than not would be poor. Does that make sense? This cannot be a mandate for universal divestiture.
In my own case, besides the house my wife and I own (actually the bank owns it until some time in the next Ice Age when our mortgage is paid off), I don't own much that would bring any significant amount if I did or could sell it. When I moved out of my church study after 22 years, I needed to find a home for a few hundred books I could not fit into my new study upstairs in our house. I couldn't even give them away. And who would buy my clothing?
I don't know anything I own that would bring much at sale and thus make much of a dent in anyone's poverty. Yet I think, except by the most brittle biblio-idolatrists, it is widely agreed upon that the practice of both Judaism and Christianity has got to entail some significant attention to the needs of other people.
The social service agency at which I serve as a volunteer counselor works with persons to determine actual and immediate need. We give out food, clothing, bus tickets, other needed item and a lot of advice about a lot of things. I come home from a day there wondering where it will all end. I know that if I sold everything I own and turned over the money to the poor, all I'm worth wouldn't make much of a difference, nor for very long, to any of the ones we serve there. And I am not poor.
That realization has helped me to see that a total, from-the-bottom-up revolution is absolutely necessary in this and most countries. That so much wealth is held so closely by so relatively few cannot possibly be the way things should be. That the possessions of a dozen families like my own would not, sold even at fire sale prices, make a dime's worth of difference to a week's worth of clients at my social service center means that there is something terribly wrong.
Mark said the man asked Jesus what he had to do to assure his own eternal life. The answer was, in so many words, let go of this one.
