Sermon by the rev'd. Pamela P. Snare

Christ Church Covington
The Rev’d Pamela P. Snare
October 12, 2003

There is a story, which was widely repeated in theological circles when I was in seminary, about the conversion in 314 A.D. of the Roman Emperor Constantine. According to this story, once Constantine embraced the Christian faith, he and all of his soldiers were baptized en masse in a river. When Constantine’s soldiers marched into the waters to be baptized, they held the arm with which they wielded their swords up out of the water. Because, you see, they wanted to retain their sword arms in their control, in their possession, to be used as they saw fit. They did not want their sword arms to be surrendered to God—to come under his control, his possession, his will. They wanted to use their sword arms for purposes that might well not be consistent with the purposes of God. It was a “you can have all of me—except this part” kind of commitment.

The man at the center of today’s gospel is a sincere and devout seeker of God. He wants to know the ways of God; he wants to become a friend of God; he wants to submit himself to the reign of God. That is why he addresses Jesus with a title of respect: “Good Teacher.” That is why he runs after him and kneels before him, an act of humility and submission. He sincerely, truly, and devoutly wants to know what God requires of him, and he wants to fulfill that requirement.

Jesus first gives him the basic norm, the discipleship 101 course: “You know the commandments…” and he recites for him the moral laws given in the covenant with Moses which have to do with the right ordering of social relationships. Who knows whether the man felt a sense of satisfaction or relief, but he responds respectfully, “Teacher, I have kept all of these since my youth.”

Then an interesting scene occurs. Our text says that Jesus “looking at him, loved him.” But the Greek word used for “looked at” has another nuance as well. It can also be translated, “to fix one’s gaze upon.” In order better to convey this sense of looking at someone with deep and profound concentration, the New English Bible translates that “Jesus looked straight at him,” and the Jerusalem Bible says, “Jesus looked steadily at him.” The sense is that Jesus did not just look at him, but looked into him, into his heart, into his soul, being able to perceive everything that was in the man’s heart. And what he saw was an obstacle. An obstacle to a full, free, open relationship with and commitment to God.

Seeing all that was in the man’s heart, including this obstacle, Jesus loved him the text says; and loving him, he tells him the truth; he tells him what he sees: “One thing you lack; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

There is one thing, one part of this man and of his life that he cannot surrender, that he cannot place in God’s hands, that he cannot allow God to call the shots on how it is to be used—and that one thing is his possessions, his wealth. Like Constantine’s soldiers, this man, if he could, would hold his possessions and his wealth over his head as he marched into the waters of baptism. “You can have all of me—except this part.”

If this were all Jesus had to say about possessions and wealth, it might make us uncomfortable or uneasy in conscience, but there would still be room for rationalization. Something like, “Episcopalians don’t take the scriptures literally. Jesus didn’t really mean for that man to sell all he had and give the money to the poor.”

But the fact is that this story gives Jesus occasion to say even more about wealth and possessions: “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the Kingdom of God!…It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the Kingdom of God.”

I must tell you that there are commentators who try to water down this saying. Some have noted that the word for “camel” and the word for “rope” or “cable” are very similar; indeed there is only one letter that is different. So they propose that the evangelist meant “cable” or “rope” even though the word “camel” is the word attested in our oldest manuscripts. Others have proposed that the “eye of the needle” was actually a small, low gate in Jerusalem, so the saying does not literally mean a sewing instrument, but this small, low gate, which it is difficult to pass through, but not as difficult as the eye of a needle. However, all the commentators I have consulted agree that this is a typical statement of hyperbole by Jesus, and that he means to say that the cost of following him is high, and the way is hard, but however high the cost and hard the way, God’s grace makes it possible, and not only possible, but worth it.

Perhaps today’s gospel doesn’t mean that we all must rush out and sell our homes, our cars, our property, our clothes, our books, all that we have, but it is most certainly a call to personal assessment of our financial resources and of our attachment to them. Because, if the gospel is to be believed, what we do with our money, our wealth, is of crucial and everlasting significance in our relationship with God. What we do with our money is an issue of spiritual growth. It is affected by and it affects our faith—our capacity to trust God with all that we are and all that we have.

Just how firm a grasp do our possessions and our wealth have on us? How do we move from fear of not having enough to trust that God will provide what we need if we are faithful to his summons to give? Do we own our wealth or does it own us? How do we grow in giving generously of our money for the purposes of God? This is a personal testimony.

I did not grow up in a family that tithed. Truth to tell, my father was a schoolteacher and administrator, and we borrowed money in the summers to live on. My parents were generous, but in a sporadic way, in response to specific requests or situations. They did not teach me a disciplined habit of giving.

When I was assigned to a small church in Virginia after seminary, and making a regular salary for the first time in my life, I began tithing. I was 26 years old, and I did it because I thought I should. In a supreme act of grace and mercy, God gave me the courage and the faith to do this, and I will be grateful for this for the rest of my life. My tithe was the first check I wrote every month because it was a way of saying God was first in my life and that the first fruits, the best, the crème de la crème belong to God. I learned to adjust how I lived and what I was or was not able to buy on what was left. I have continued to tithe since that time, and Jerry and I now tithe, so it has become a habit, a discipline, a non-negotiable part of discipleship; like making time for prayer is a non-negotiable part of discipleship; like cultivating patience is a non-negotiable part of discipleship. Our tithe is based on our gross income. Otherwise, it would be too easy to try to hold something back. The entire tithe is given to the church.

What is more difficult than tithing, for us, is deciding to whom or what and how much to give to special appeals, both within the church and without. That is more difficult because there is no specific scriptural guidance about it except to be generous as God is generous. Jerry and I talk about special appeals and then pray about them. And what is always amazing to me is that after we talk and each of us prays individually over a matter of days or weeks, we usually come back to each other with the same amount or almost the same amount in mind. It usually means that we prepare less expensive meals (and Jerry and I like to eat), or we give up going out to eat for a meal, or two, or three that month. It has meant that we put off replacing the stovetop and oven, both of which are on their last legs, and that we put off removing some trees from our yard, which need to be removed. But we still have plenty, we do not go hungry, and we have the satisfaction of knowing that we have perhaps in some small way furthered the mission of Christ. It is a way of life that I would not trade for the world, because it has shown me again and again that I do not have to be afraid of the present or the future. It has taught me again and again that with God all things are possible; with God there is always a way. It has taught me that generosity feels good—that generosity brings me closer to the author of generosity. That learning to give generously connects me to the most generous Giver of all.

This gospel continues to challenge me and it will challenge me till the day I die. Because I know that there still are things I could forego, things I could sacrifice in order to give more generously to the purposes of God and the mission of Christ. This gospel is open-ended in its challenge. I love C. S. Lewis’ gloss upon this gospel. He writes: “With God all things are possible. It is even possible for a very large camel to go through the eye of a very small needle. But it is very hard on the camel.”

Yes, learning to give generously is hard, but God makes it possible. Just like he makes learning patience possible. Just like he makes learning to forgive possible. And our reward is in our relationship with him and with others who trust in him. And that is a treasure finer than all the goods of this world. Amen.

Sermon by the Reverend Pamela P. Snare

Return to Recent Sermons