Beyond consumerism
Commentary
Object:
I know a mother who remembers an embarrassing moment that happened when she went with her daughter’s class on a school field trip. When the mother showed up with her car, the daughter hid at the back of the group as it was gathering. One more vehicle was needed to transport all of the students, so my friend offered to drive. At first the daughter didn’t want to ride with her mother, and tried to get into one of the vans. When she was taken by the hand and led to join her mother, the girl slouched in the back seat and never said a word for the rest of the day.
Was she embarrassed by her mother? No. It was the car. The family car was ten years old and had begun to show some rust.
When this woman told me the story, she shook her head with some disappointment. She was mildly upset with her daughter who showed such fickleness, but she was more distraught with a society that would teach her children that worth was tied to shiny cars and expensive clothes.
Theirs was not a poor family. They could afford to buy a newer car. Yet the old car ran well. They had talked about it and decided that even though they could afford something more expensive, they would not take the step.
I admire that family. We live in a grossly consumer-driven world. Our society shouts that if we want something, we deserve to get it. We need to buy it. Paying on credit is our responsibility to keep the wheels of consumerism turning and the wealth of the nations flowing.
Each of our lectionary readings today addresses consumerism in a different manner. Job’s story reminds us that nothing material lasts, and we have to find meaning beyond it. The writer of Hebrews comforts those struggling under persecution by pointing to Jesus’ shared sufferings and greater power to bring us to our true home. And in the gospel, Jesus looks deeply into our consumerist eyes to warn us and call us home.
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
The book of Job assumes a worldview like that found in the rest of the Bible. There is a creator deity (named “Yahweh”) who retains final control in all terrestrial matters. Evil is seen to be an intrusion into God’s good world, rather than an original or necessary harmonic force intrinsic to the creation itself. There is a collection of spiritual creatures who share oversight of the physical world, and hints that “Satan” (which means “accuser,” the role played by Yahweh’s sparring partner in the opening chapters) may have originally been a good spiritual being who lost his way.
Although there is a brief prose narrative which sets up the drama at the beginning (Job 1-2), a tiny prose interruption to explain a change of scenes in 32:1-5, and a short narrative concluding note (Job 42:7-17), the essence of the book of Job is found in the dramatic dialogues which make up its bulk. These are rhythmically arranged and contain nuances of theodicy which attempt to answer the question of why Job is suffering. After Job makes his initial lament (Job 3), there are three rounds of dialogue in which Job’s primary friends, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, explain their views. Each time Job responds in an attempt to refute their harsh judgments about him. The friends focus on some secret, heinous sins that must recently have been uncovered by God, resulting in Job’s horrible current condition as divine payback in a tit-for-tat mechanistic moral world. Job continually protests his innocence and decries their poor bedside manners.
The third round of these dialogues seems to be cut short. As usual, Eliphaz (Job 22) and Bildad (Job 25) rush in to challenge Job, but Zophar is not included this time, and Job’s final response is more extended (Job 26-31). The apparent incompleteness of this round of disputations may be a literary device hinting that Job’s three friends have not been able to respond adequately; it is certainly clear from today’s lectionary reading that Job does not believe his friends have provided a satisfactory assessment of things. At precisely this moment a new voice enters (Job 32-37), bringing the younger and yet more complex and profound insights of Elihu. While the earlier interactions muddied down into almost tedious accusation and defense, Elihu adds the dimensions of divine chastisement and education as possible causes for pain. Although suffering is usually a sign of divine judgment for identifiable nasty deeds, Elihu notes, sometimes it comes merely because it is part of our lot as human beings living in a compromised world. Moreover, even where there are no specific sins on our part to merit punishment, God often uses pain as a means to keep us aware of our limitations and to remind us of our need for divine help.
We are not given an indication as to how Job responds to Elihu’s assessment, for before Job can answer Yahweh suddenly thunders in (Job 38:1--42:6). We do not know why God chooses to make a speech at this time, nor are we party to what conversations might have happened in the heavens of the opening scenes as the rest of the earthly exchanges unfolded. Also, to our frustration, Yahweh does not answer the assertions made by either the friends or Job. Instead, Yahweh gives ten object lessons from the physical realm (Job 38:2-38) and another ten object lessons from the animal realm (Job 38:39--39:30) which apparently are meant to remind the participants in the drama (and also those who read it) that Yahweh’s power vastly supersedes human exploration or co-engagement. Because of this, according to the brief encounters which Yahweh then has with Job (Job 40:1--42:6), we ought not presume too much about why things happen as they do, nor pride ourselves about any normative or comprehensive insights we might think we have.
In the end, although Satan is never mentioned again, nor are we taken back to the transcendent perch granted at the beginning, Job is vindicated. His suffering, which was not specifically brought on because of grievous sins in his life, is ended, and his world is restored to its former prosperity.
Hebrews 4:12-16
In making a comparison between the old and new expressions of the covenant, the author of Hebrews does not criticize the former but turns common perceptions on their head. He assumes that the recent developments, related to Jesus’ coming, were intended all along, with the cultic ceremonies of Israel functioning like a prelude or a preamble.
Since Jesus has entered our history as the definitive revelation of God’s eternal plans and designs, he has fulfilled the intent of the sacrificial system, and thus made it obsolete. This message, along with the enthusiasm of the divine Spirit, energizes the community of faith that now spreads its witness in this messianic age as the Christian church.
Steeped as he is in Jewish culture and covenantal outlook, the author reduces all of life to the symbolic representations of the Tabernacle. When God took up residence on earth, the furnishings of the Tabernacle were designed to provide means by which sinful human beings could approach a holy deity. In the Tabernacle courtyard, on the Altar of Burnt Offering, a sacrificial transaction took place, atoning for inner sin and alienation from God. The Bronze Sea standing nearby, although used only by the priests and Levites, symbolized the external cleansing necessary when making contact with Yahweh. In the Holy Place, the first room of the Tabernacle proper, were the visible representations of fellowship -- a Table always prepared for mealtime hospitality, a Lamp giving light for Yahweh and his guests, and the Altar of Incense which, with its sweet smells, overcame the stench of animal sacrifices outside and created a pleasant atmosphere for relaxed conversation. Finally, intimacy with God could be had by passing through the curtain and stepping into the throne room itself, the Most Holy Place. Here the Ark of the Covenant, with its Mercy Seat throne, was the actual place where Yahweh appeared to his people. Because this spiritual journey was too large a leap for most sinfully compromised humans to make, access was granted and taken only once a year in the person and representative acts of the High Priest. Israel, as a people, met Yahweh in the Tabernacle (the “House of God”) through these symbolic representations.
What Jesus has recently done, according to Hebrews, is short-circuited these feeble and repetitious efforts at renewing human relations with God. He did this by fulfilling all of the deep-down meaning of these practices in the grand once-and-for-all activity of his death and resurrection. Now the old meanings, good and proper as they were, are connected to new symbols: the cross becomes the Altar of Burnt Offering; Baptism is the cleansing washing that replaces the waters of the Bronze Sea; the Lord’s Supper is the ongoing experience of the hospitality Table; the Holy Spirit is the illuminating presence previously offered by the Lamp; prayers (both ours and Jesus’) form the new Incense that sweetens the atmosphere when we seek God; and the Most Holy Place, with its Mercy Seat atop the Ark of the Covenant, is nothing less than God’s grand throne room in heaven itself. Indeed, if the microcosm worldview of the Tabernacle is expanded and inverted, we can sketch out the meaning of Jesus and the true religion of our lives as a journey from outside the camp into the holy presence of God.
It is obvious from the writer’s argument that he and those he is addressing are deeply steeped in the worldview, culture, practices, and religious rites of Judaism. Not only so, but theirs is a conservative, orthodox, historical understanding of the religion of Israel. The Old Testament is the revelation of God, and Israel holds a special place in transmitting the divine outlook and purposes with the human race. Israel’s identity was shaped around its religious ceremonies, which themselves emanated from the Tabernacle, its furnishings, and its symbolism.
Although the author of Hebrews shares these perspectives with his audience, there is one significant difference between them: he fully believes Jesus has ushered in a culminating change that transcends and makes obsolete these previous expressions of religious identity, while they, due to cultural pressures around them, are not so sure of that. This document is written to convince a community, which is on the verge of slipping away from Jesus back into a pre-Jesus Jewish ritualistic context, that such a move would be both unwise and inappropriate (Hebrews 10:19-39).
The writer of Hebrews points to others, of both Old Testament times and recent difficult circumstances, who chose to keep in step with the messianic progression of God’s activities, culminating in the coming of Jesus, the messiah. If these followers of the right way could keep their faith, even when it cost them everything, you can do it too! And look! They are the ones who are cheering you on! They believe you can remain faithful. In fact, Jesus himself stands at the end of your journey and beckons you on to the finish line! So don’t give up now, just when you are achieving a newer depth in your relationship with God! You can continue on! You can make it!
Mark 10:17-31
The megachurch campuses of today, with their multimillion-dollar buildings ringed by fleets of expensive motor vehicles, would likely have surprised Jesus. He didn’t have a great view of a money/religion mix, nor could he seem to connect wealthy people with God.
Of course, we’re quick to point out the sociological changes that have taken place since Jesus’ days, and the fact that upper-middle-class folk, as well as rich people, have done a world of good in the church and kingdom with their money. We’d be quick to tell Jesus that his comments were for the godless rich of his day, and that we use our financial resources in a different way. But as Shakespeare said through Hamlet, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks!” The Bride of Christ certainly finds her fiscal welfare changed since the struggling days of the New Testament, and perhaps more than she would care to admit, her spiritual outlook along with it. At the height of the Middle Ages, theologian Thomas Aquinas paused with the pope as a new shipment of offerings and artistic masterpieces entered the Vatican. Reflecting on Peter’s words to the paralytic beggar in Acts 5, the pope commented: “No longer do we have to say, ‘Silver and gold have I none.’ ”
With a sadly satirical twist of wit, Aquinas replied, “Neither can we any longer say, ‘In the name of Christ, rise up and walk.’ ”
What makes money so important to us? At least in part it seems to be connected with our perceptions of security. Don Marquis rightly said, “There is nothing so habit-forming as money.” Researchers claim that the major concern of most college and university students is getting the right education to land the right job in order to make the right amount of money. Money is perceived as power and security -- the more you have of it, the more you have of them.
A story of tandem bikers is telling. Riding their two-seater along a highway, they encountered a steep hill. Panting and groaning, they finally achieved the summit.
“What a climb!” said one when they stopped for a rest break.
“Yeah!” said the other. “And if I hadn’t kept the brake on, we would have slid right down again!”
That’s often a picture of us, racing through life. We puff up the ladder of success, expanding our earnings while gripping the brake ever more tightly, scared of what might happen if we ever let go. Years ago I sat with a man at a coffee shop. I was new in town and he wanted to sell me some life insurance.
“How much security do you want?” he asked me. He had been a wheeler-dealer in Calgary during the oil boom, earning big money, living fast times. Then the boom went bust, his investments collapsed, and his wife left with another high-roller. Now he was back in his hometown trying to start over.
“How much security can you offer?” I responded. His eyes lit up. His face got flushed. He was ready to move in for the deal. But then we started talking about the church. It soon became apparent that he had another agenda tucked behind his tycoon come-on. Did I really believe all this religion stuff? Could God really love him after all he’d done, after the mess he’d made of things? He’d been on the fast track: bright lights, big city. He wanted desperately to be loved, but one marriage was gone and another relationship was souring. Money bought him nothing. Was there something more?
I could see my own heart reflected in his flush and fears. We are all looking for security. We think we can find it in money, in wealth, in possessions. And maybe for a while it works.
But one day Jesus comes along, like he did that day in our gospel lesson. And when he tells us that he loves us, and when he tells us that his father is taking care of us, we can finally let our grabbing fists go, and ease the pain of our ulcers, and give away the possessions that have begun to possess us. Maybe...
Ernest Hemingway used to give away some of his most valued possessions at the beginning of each new year. He said he did it to prove that he really owned them, and not the other way around. If he couldn’t give them away, they owned him. They controlled his heart.
That brings us back to Jesus’ words. Why is he so hard on the rich? Everybody can get into the Kingdom of God. It’s just harder when you don’t think you need it.
Application
When a person is addicted to drugs, he can’t stop. He needs the next fix, the next hit, the next pill. When alcoholism grips, a woman will do anything to get another bottle. But what about the addictions of the soul that society says are okay? What about the fads of fashion and culture that rule our shopping habits, and our eating habits, and our sexual habits?
Do I wear garments less expensive than I can afford? Can I drive a car less costly than I have the means to buy? Am I able to develop a relationship with someone else without jumping into bed before marriage? Do I have the strength of character to go against the grain?
Often we don’t know until we have tested our souls in the x-rays of deliberate abstinence. G. K. Chesterton put it this way. “Art and morality have this in common,” he said. “They both know where to draw the lines.”
When we know where to draw the lines on a picture, it begins to have beauty and meaning. When we know where to draw the lines on a building, it begins to have shape and purpose. And when we know where to draw the lines in our lives, we begin to have character. The person who will stop at nothing will say yes to anything. The man who has no limits also has no identity of his own. He robs it from the victims of his cruelties. The woman who doesn’t know how to say no will never be able to say yes to the things in life that matter most. Even the child who isn’t taught the boundaries of behavior grows up to be an adult without a conscience.
Alternative Application
Job 23:1-9, 16-17. What are we to make of the book of Job? When the drama is taken as a whole, it becomes apparent that Job’s message is not entirely about suffering. Instead, the book seems to be at least as much about what might be termed the fundamental values that make humanity human. Suffering merely provides a context in which the critical issues of meaning rise quickly to the surface.
Do we live in a world where we are masters to ourselves? No, this is a moral universe, and there are laws that have to be obeyed if we are to survive.
But is it then a mechanistic cosmos in which cause and effect are the only determiners of outcome? Not at all, for above and around and beyond our typical powers of perception swirls a spiritual realm in which God and angels and demons take a vital interest into our habits and activities of life.
So what can we learn about our existence from this drama? Mechanistic worldviews belittle and reduce life, either by claiming that physical possessions and prosperity are the end product of right living, or that pain and suffering will automatically drive one away from God. The former forgets that God desires to have meaningful relationships with humans, even when they are flawed and sinful. The latter believes that atheism is a viable option in a world where things no longer make any sense.
This is a moral universe, according to the drama of Job, though not all pain and problems are the direct result of our sinfulness. The normal or natural human identity involves acknowledging and worshiping God, but this worship cannot be coerced. The fundamental challenge to human living is that of continuing to be our truest God-worshiping selves even when the limited evidence of daily experience sometimes seems to speak to the contrary. Job neither gives in to his friends’ reductionistic worldview nor gives up in the face of insufficient evidence to confirm God’s care or presence. In this Job remains truly human at its most fundamental level: he believes in God not for the sake of trinkets he might gain by that relationship, but because to lose that transcendent connection would be to deny his very self and its reason for existence.
Was she embarrassed by her mother? No. It was the car. The family car was ten years old and had begun to show some rust.
When this woman told me the story, she shook her head with some disappointment. She was mildly upset with her daughter who showed such fickleness, but she was more distraught with a society that would teach her children that worth was tied to shiny cars and expensive clothes.
Theirs was not a poor family. They could afford to buy a newer car. Yet the old car ran well. They had talked about it and decided that even though they could afford something more expensive, they would not take the step.
I admire that family. We live in a grossly consumer-driven world. Our society shouts that if we want something, we deserve to get it. We need to buy it. Paying on credit is our responsibility to keep the wheels of consumerism turning and the wealth of the nations flowing.
Each of our lectionary readings today addresses consumerism in a different manner. Job’s story reminds us that nothing material lasts, and we have to find meaning beyond it. The writer of Hebrews comforts those struggling under persecution by pointing to Jesus’ shared sufferings and greater power to bring us to our true home. And in the gospel, Jesus looks deeply into our consumerist eyes to warn us and call us home.
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
The book of Job assumes a worldview like that found in the rest of the Bible. There is a creator deity (named “Yahweh”) who retains final control in all terrestrial matters. Evil is seen to be an intrusion into God’s good world, rather than an original or necessary harmonic force intrinsic to the creation itself. There is a collection of spiritual creatures who share oversight of the physical world, and hints that “Satan” (which means “accuser,” the role played by Yahweh’s sparring partner in the opening chapters) may have originally been a good spiritual being who lost his way.
Although there is a brief prose narrative which sets up the drama at the beginning (Job 1-2), a tiny prose interruption to explain a change of scenes in 32:1-5, and a short narrative concluding note (Job 42:7-17), the essence of the book of Job is found in the dramatic dialogues which make up its bulk. These are rhythmically arranged and contain nuances of theodicy which attempt to answer the question of why Job is suffering. After Job makes his initial lament (Job 3), there are three rounds of dialogue in which Job’s primary friends, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, explain their views. Each time Job responds in an attempt to refute their harsh judgments about him. The friends focus on some secret, heinous sins that must recently have been uncovered by God, resulting in Job’s horrible current condition as divine payback in a tit-for-tat mechanistic moral world. Job continually protests his innocence and decries their poor bedside manners.
The third round of these dialogues seems to be cut short. As usual, Eliphaz (Job 22) and Bildad (Job 25) rush in to challenge Job, but Zophar is not included this time, and Job’s final response is more extended (Job 26-31). The apparent incompleteness of this round of disputations may be a literary device hinting that Job’s three friends have not been able to respond adequately; it is certainly clear from today’s lectionary reading that Job does not believe his friends have provided a satisfactory assessment of things. At precisely this moment a new voice enters (Job 32-37), bringing the younger and yet more complex and profound insights of Elihu. While the earlier interactions muddied down into almost tedious accusation and defense, Elihu adds the dimensions of divine chastisement and education as possible causes for pain. Although suffering is usually a sign of divine judgment for identifiable nasty deeds, Elihu notes, sometimes it comes merely because it is part of our lot as human beings living in a compromised world. Moreover, even where there are no specific sins on our part to merit punishment, God often uses pain as a means to keep us aware of our limitations and to remind us of our need for divine help.
We are not given an indication as to how Job responds to Elihu’s assessment, for before Job can answer Yahweh suddenly thunders in (Job 38:1--42:6). We do not know why God chooses to make a speech at this time, nor are we party to what conversations might have happened in the heavens of the opening scenes as the rest of the earthly exchanges unfolded. Also, to our frustration, Yahweh does not answer the assertions made by either the friends or Job. Instead, Yahweh gives ten object lessons from the physical realm (Job 38:2-38) and another ten object lessons from the animal realm (Job 38:39--39:30) which apparently are meant to remind the participants in the drama (and also those who read it) that Yahweh’s power vastly supersedes human exploration or co-engagement. Because of this, according to the brief encounters which Yahweh then has with Job (Job 40:1--42:6), we ought not presume too much about why things happen as they do, nor pride ourselves about any normative or comprehensive insights we might think we have.
In the end, although Satan is never mentioned again, nor are we taken back to the transcendent perch granted at the beginning, Job is vindicated. His suffering, which was not specifically brought on because of grievous sins in his life, is ended, and his world is restored to its former prosperity.
Hebrews 4:12-16
In making a comparison between the old and new expressions of the covenant, the author of Hebrews does not criticize the former but turns common perceptions on their head. He assumes that the recent developments, related to Jesus’ coming, were intended all along, with the cultic ceremonies of Israel functioning like a prelude or a preamble.
Since Jesus has entered our history as the definitive revelation of God’s eternal plans and designs, he has fulfilled the intent of the sacrificial system, and thus made it obsolete. This message, along with the enthusiasm of the divine Spirit, energizes the community of faith that now spreads its witness in this messianic age as the Christian church.
Steeped as he is in Jewish culture and covenantal outlook, the author reduces all of life to the symbolic representations of the Tabernacle. When God took up residence on earth, the furnishings of the Tabernacle were designed to provide means by which sinful human beings could approach a holy deity. In the Tabernacle courtyard, on the Altar of Burnt Offering, a sacrificial transaction took place, atoning for inner sin and alienation from God. The Bronze Sea standing nearby, although used only by the priests and Levites, symbolized the external cleansing necessary when making contact with Yahweh. In the Holy Place, the first room of the Tabernacle proper, were the visible representations of fellowship -- a Table always prepared for mealtime hospitality, a Lamp giving light for Yahweh and his guests, and the Altar of Incense which, with its sweet smells, overcame the stench of animal sacrifices outside and created a pleasant atmosphere for relaxed conversation. Finally, intimacy with God could be had by passing through the curtain and stepping into the throne room itself, the Most Holy Place. Here the Ark of the Covenant, with its Mercy Seat throne, was the actual place where Yahweh appeared to his people. Because this spiritual journey was too large a leap for most sinfully compromised humans to make, access was granted and taken only once a year in the person and representative acts of the High Priest. Israel, as a people, met Yahweh in the Tabernacle (the “House of God”) through these symbolic representations.
What Jesus has recently done, according to Hebrews, is short-circuited these feeble and repetitious efforts at renewing human relations with God. He did this by fulfilling all of the deep-down meaning of these practices in the grand once-and-for-all activity of his death and resurrection. Now the old meanings, good and proper as they were, are connected to new symbols: the cross becomes the Altar of Burnt Offering; Baptism is the cleansing washing that replaces the waters of the Bronze Sea; the Lord’s Supper is the ongoing experience of the hospitality Table; the Holy Spirit is the illuminating presence previously offered by the Lamp; prayers (both ours and Jesus’) form the new Incense that sweetens the atmosphere when we seek God; and the Most Holy Place, with its Mercy Seat atop the Ark of the Covenant, is nothing less than God’s grand throne room in heaven itself. Indeed, if the microcosm worldview of the Tabernacle is expanded and inverted, we can sketch out the meaning of Jesus and the true religion of our lives as a journey from outside the camp into the holy presence of God.
It is obvious from the writer’s argument that he and those he is addressing are deeply steeped in the worldview, culture, practices, and religious rites of Judaism. Not only so, but theirs is a conservative, orthodox, historical understanding of the religion of Israel. The Old Testament is the revelation of God, and Israel holds a special place in transmitting the divine outlook and purposes with the human race. Israel’s identity was shaped around its religious ceremonies, which themselves emanated from the Tabernacle, its furnishings, and its symbolism.
Although the author of Hebrews shares these perspectives with his audience, there is one significant difference between them: he fully believes Jesus has ushered in a culminating change that transcends and makes obsolete these previous expressions of religious identity, while they, due to cultural pressures around them, are not so sure of that. This document is written to convince a community, which is on the verge of slipping away from Jesus back into a pre-Jesus Jewish ritualistic context, that such a move would be both unwise and inappropriate (Hebrews 10:19-39).
The writer of Hebrews points to others, of both Old Testament times and recent difficult circumstances, who chose to keep in step with the messianic progression of God’s activities, culminating in the coming of Jesus, the messiah. If these followers of the right way could keep their faith, even when it cost them everything, you can do it too! And look! They are the ones who are cheering you on! They believe you can remain faithful. In fact, Jesus himself stands at the end of your journey and beckons you on to the finish line! So don’t give up now, just when you are achieving a newer depth in your relationship with God! You can continue on! You can make it!
Mark 10:17-31
The megachurch campuses of today, with their multimillion-dollar buildings ringed by fleets of expensive motor vehicles, would likely have surprised Jesus. He didn’t have a great view of a money/religion mix, nor could he seem to connect wealthy people with God.
Of course, we’re quick to point out the sociological changes that have taken place since Jesus’ days, and the fact that upper-middle-class folk, as well as rich people, have done a world of good in the church and kingdom with their money. We’d be quick to tell Jesus that his comments were for the godless rich of his day, and that we use our financial resources in a different way. But as Shakespeare said through Hamlet, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks!” The Bride of Christ certainly finds her fiscal welfare changed since the struggling days of the New Testament, and perhaps more than she would care to admit, her spiritual outlook along with it. At the height of the Middle Ages, theologian Thomas Aquinas paused with the pope as a new shipment of offerings and artistic masterpieces entered the Vatican. Reflecting on Peter’s words to the paralytic beggar in Acts 5, the pope commented: “No longer do we have to say, ‘Silver and gold have I none.’ ”
With a sadly satirical twist of wit, Aquinas replied, “Neither can we any longer say, ‘In the name of Christ, rise up and walk.’ ”
What makes money so important to us? At least in part it seems to be connected with our perceptions of security. Don Marquis rightly said, “There is nothing so habit-forming as money.” Researchers claim that the major concern of most college and university students is getting the right education to land the right job in order to make the right amount of money. Money is perceived as power and security -- the more you have of it, the more you have of them.
A story of tandem bikers is telling. Riding their two-seater along a highway, they encountered a steep hill. Panting and groaning, they finally achieved the summit.
“What a climb!” said one when they stopped for a rest break.
“Yeah!” said the other. “And if I hadn’t kept the brake on, we would have slid right down again!”
That’s often a picture of us, racing through life. We puff up the ladder of success, expanding our earnings while gripping the brake ever more tightly, scared of what might happen if we ever let go. Years ago I sat with a man at a coffee shop. I was new in town and he wanted to sell me some life insurance.
“How much security do you want?” he asked me. He had been a wheeler-dealer in Calgary during the oil boom, earning big money, living fast times. Then the boom went bust, his investments collapsed, and his wife left with another high-roller. Now he was back in his hometown trying to start over.
“How much security can you offer?” I responded. His eyes lit up. His face got flushed. He was ready to move in for the deal. But then we started talking about the church. It soon became apparent that he had another agenda tucked behind his tycoon come-on. Did I really believe all this religion stuff? Could God really love him after all he’d done, after the mess he’d made of things? He’d been on the fast track: bright lights, big city. He wanted desperately to be loved, but one marriage was gone and another relationship was souring. Money bought him nothing. Was there something more?
I could see my own heart reflected in his flush and fears. We are all looking for security. We think we can find it in money, in wealth, in possessions. And maybe for a while it works.
But one day Jesus comes along, like he did that day in our gospel lesson. And when he tells us that he loves us, and when he tells us that his father is taking care of us, we can finally let our grabbing fists go, and ease the pain of our ulcers, and give away the possessions that have begun to possess us. Maybe...
Ernest Hemingway used to give away some of his most valued possessions at the beginning of each new year. He said he did it to prove that he really owned them, and not the other way around. If he couldn’t give them away, they owned him. They controlled his heart.
That brings us back to Jesus’ words. Why is he so hard on the rich? Everybody can get into the Kingdom of God. It’s just harder when you don’t think you need it.
Application
When a person is addicted to drugs, he can’t stop. He needs the next fix, the next hit, the next pill. When alcoholism grips, a woman will do anything to get another bottle. But what about the addictions of the soul that society says are okay? What about the fads of fashion and culture that rule our shopping habits, and our eating habits, and our sexual habits?
Do I wear garments less expensive than I can afford? Can I drive a car less costly than I have the means to buy? Am I able to develop a relationship with someone else without jumping into bed before marriage? Do I have the strength of character to go against the grain?
Often we don’t know until we have tested our souls in the x-rays of deliberate abstinence. G. K. Chesterton put it this way. “Art and morality have this in common,” he said. “They both know where to draw the lines.”
When we know where to draw the lines on a picture, it begins to have beauty and meaning. When we know where to draw the lines on a building, it begins to have shape and purpose. And when we know where to draw the lines in our lives, we begin to have character. The person who will stop at nothing will say yes to anything. The man who has no limits also has no identity of his own. He robs it from the victims of his cruelties. The woman who doesn’t know how to say no will never be able to say yes to the things in life that matter most. Even the child who isn’t taught the boundaries of behavior grows up to be an adult without a conscience.
Alternative Application
Job 23:1-9, 16-17. What are we to make of the book of Job? When the drama is taken as a whole, it becomes apparent that Job’s message is not entirely about suffering. Instead, the book seems to be at least as much about what might be termed the fundamental values that make humanity human. Suffering merely provides a context in which the critical issues of meaning rise quickly to the surface.
Do we live in a world where we are masters to ourselves? No, this is a moral universe, and there are laws that have to be obeyed if we are to survive.
But is it then a mechanistic cosmos in which cause and effect are the only determiners of outcome? Not at all, for above and around and beyond our typical powers of perception swirls a spiritual realm in which God and angels and demons take a vital interest into our habits and activities of life.
So what can we learn about our existence from this drama? Mechanistic worldviews belittle and reduce life, either by claiming that physical possessions and prosperity are the end product of right living, or that pain and suffering will automatically drive one away from God. The former forgets that God desires to have meaningful relationships with humans, even when they are flawed and sinful. The latter believes that atheism is a viable option in a world where things no longer make any sense.
This is a moral universe, according to the drama of Job, though not all pain and problems are the direct result of our sinfulness. The normal or natural human identity involves acknowledging and worshiping God, but this worship cannot be coerced. The fundamental challenge to human living is that of continuing to be our truest God-worshiping selves even when the limited evidence of daily experience sometimes seems to speak to the contrary. Job neither gives in to his friends’ reductionistic worldview nor gives up in the face of insufficient evidence to confirm God’s care or presence. In this Job remains truly human at its most fundamental level: he believes in God not for the sake of trinkets he might gain by that relationship, but because to lose that transcendent connection would be to deny his very self and its reason for existence.
