What things do we need for the Kingdom?
“Sell all your possessions and give alms.” This is not the first time that Jesus says to get rid of things that people own. There was the rich man who asked Jesus what he needed for eternal life, and Jesus said that he had to sell all of his possessions. Then Jesus said that it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of the needle than for a rich man to get into heaven. There was also the story of the rich man in hell seeing Lazarus, the beggar who lay sick at the rich man's gate, in paradise. Jesus seems to have it out for the wealthy, subversively saying that they should give up all of their riches if they want salvation. This sentiment doesn’t go over too well in our time, because we take pride in our successes and hard work and measure them with things that we accumulate, things that we show off, things that show we have worth. So this idea of making a purse for the valuable things we have that doesn’t wear out and that moths won’t destroy is irrelevant. If a thief doesn’t want something we have, then it is worthless, and we are poorer for it. Two weeks ago, Bishop Lamor Whitehead, who heads the Leaders of Tomorrow International Churches based in New York City was robbed during Sunday worship. The thieves made off with a million dollars of jewelry from him and his wife. I can’t get my head around having jewelry worth that much, much less wearing during worship. In an NPR interview, Bishop Whitehead said, “I know a lot of people are gonna say, 'Oh, why are you so flashy?' It's my prerogative to purchase what I want to purchase. If I worked hard for it, I can purchase what I want to purchase." Those words are the opposite of what Jesus says in the Gospel reading.
Jesus doesn’t say we shouldn’t have riches, but his idea of riches is different than ours. He says that God wants to give us the kingdom, but as we learn what that kingdom is and what it will be like to live in it, we slowly realize that our things, our stuff won’t fit in the kingdom. The kingdom is certainly big enough to hold all of what we own, but our things won’t fit in it like wearing a swimsuit doesn’t fit in a black-tie dinner; it’s not appropriate. But we live in the world as we live a spiritual life, and accumulating things or possessions is an inevitable part of that life in the world. We buy and acquire and justify getting things and wealth in any number of ways, and most of the time, it’s ok. I have a nice laptop that I write my sermons on, a nice Ikea bookcase that I converted to a wardrobe for my liturgical clothing, and an Instant Pot that has made making dinners easier on long days spent at work. These are things that in one way or another contribute to my spiritual life, things that feed my body and my soul as part of becoming who God is calling me to be. The problem starts when I look at my liturgical clothing, or my cookware, or my telescope for that matter as things that show that I have it made, or that make me look good, or make me feel good about myself. When I replace Jesus’ humility and God’s unconditional love for me with the things I bought with my hard-earned money, I am not ready to inherit the kingdom of God, and I have little to offer the world. We get angry and defensive when we hear Jesus say “give away your possessions” and our reaction is to say “that’s my stuff, I earned them, and they’re worth something. What am I without them?”
14 years ago, I completed a slightly masochistic pursuit of a Masters degree in Biochemistry while working full time, raising two children, and volunteering for the Red Cross. 5 years ago, as we were clearing out our house in preparation for moving across town, I came across boxes that had my notes and exams and thesis rough drafts. I knew rationally that I had the degree, that I didn’t need my notes any longer, but I fought the decision to throw them out. They represented three years of hard work and sacrifice, three years of wondering if I had what it took to graduate, three years of putting a lot of things on hold. They had value from my emotional and mental investment in achieving a goal and proving to the world that I was smart enough. What I didn’t realize when I looked at all that hard work to earn that degree was that I had been transformed by what was in those notes and from having taken those exams. I realized that we start a process where we give meaning to our material possessions, and then over time that meaning becomes words we use to explain who we are in ways that people understand. My papers were no longer proof of my effort or my worth, because my knowledge was that proof, and that was what made it possible for me to throw them out. I could let go of them because I no longer needed them. Their contents had become part of who I am, and are part of whatever wisdom I might have now.
Possessions, the ones that are closest to our heart are the ones most difficult to give up. When the time comes, what do we keep, and what do we discard? I faced this with my family in the months after my father died, namely what should we do with Dad’s urban planning and architecture books - they were well out of date, but they represented his vocation, his dedication to designing places where we live and work, and marked the history of his life. To discard them was not to say that they no longer meant anything to us, but to say that their place in our lives had changed. Dad was so much more than his books, and his life so much more than his job. I have what I need to keep him in my heart. This made it easier to go through boxes of family pictures last year, and will make it easier to help my mother downsize in a couple of years. There is a certain freedom in giving away things that you’ve held onto for years. Even in the emotionally wrenching decision to part with things of sentimental value, there is a liberation because they may no longer serve as physical reminders of what we hold most dear. We are often unaware that we build emotional and spiritual possessions by looking, holding, and reminiscing with the physical things in our lives. Those are the treasures that we put into the purse that doesn’t wear out, the treasures that we store up in heaven. To let go of the physical items is the same act that the disciples made when they had to let go of Jesus as he died on the cross. Their treasure was their faith in his words, our treasure is a full and deep spirituality that comes from the things we hold most dear, and then from letting them go.
This spirituality is what prepares us for the kingdom of God. We have to be ready, like waiting for the master to come to the door, looking for us. We must have our lamps trimmed and plenty of oil with us, but if we have the finest oil available, triple distilled and tested and certified for the highest purity, we will miss the knock at the door. If we have a highly decorated lamp, hand-carved, precision built, with all sorts of attachments for any weather or lighting condition, we will miss the knock. If we have 12 different lamps, some inherited from a great-grandparent and we can’t decide which one to use, we will miss the knock. But if we have just two expensive lamps, and give away one to someone who needs a lamp, we are moving toward being able to part with our things. We will move closer to that place where what is in our hearts matters more than what is in our hands. If we share our high quality oil without expecting anything in return, we are placing value on the right things, bringing and sharing the kingdom with those who don't have possessions. The master, the Son of God, comes at an unexpected hour, and if we are not spiritually ready for him because we care more about our things, then we will miss the invitation to enter the kingdom. We need some things to live in this world, but all we need for the kingdom is what we have in our hearts.
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