We meet in Jesus a virtuoso in uncovering the roots of spiritual sickness. He serves as spiritual physician without peer: offering diagnosis, prognosis, cure. He encounters Nicodemus, for instance, a sophisticate engaged at arm's length in religious speculation. Jesus invites him to turn his life around, to begin again. He sees in Simon the Pharisee moral rectitude, but a loveless heart. He challenges one young person to extend the horizons of neighborhood; he tells others we confront prodigality not only in perverse and squalid deeds, but just as much in mean tempers, sullen outlooks and jealous moods. In the passage we read a few moments ago, Mark introduces Jesus to a person, who, for all his virtue and high ideals, suffers from an acute ethical and spiritual illness.

This man, Mark tells us, comes to Jesus, falls down before him and asks, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

The man asks for "eternal life." Indeed, by his body language, he begs for, entreats Jesus as if in desperation for "eternal life." Be assured, friends, our supplicant asks not for confidence in life after death; he expresses no eagerness to live forever. "Eternal Life" the young man seeks will grasp him, liberate him, free him, grant him peace and courage in life right now. The New Testament perceives "Eternal Life" a matter of quality, of depth, of freedom, of patience and hope, a manner, style and joy available to us now. We find ourselves compelled to use religious language as we describe this radiant quality of life: "Life in God"; "Life in Christ;" "Eternal Life." This depth and quality of life reflects something we all seek, pursue, hope and pray for: a transformation of our own existence.

"Good teacher," pleads our kneeling friend. "Good teacher!" And from Jesus we get what sounds like rebuff: short, rude, off-putting. "Good?" responds Jesus. "Only God is good." Our Lord sees instantly a person who believes degrees of goodness will answer his desperate question. He pleads with Jesus to offer an ethical formula, give him an additional moral component to the way he lives his life now. He approaches Jesus as if he expects a spiritual Ann Landers, a religious Miss Manners; he expresses his problem as if he were writing "Dear Abby, Please, some advice, an instruction, some counsel. What additional good thing must I do, you maven, you guru of goodness? Must I go to church more? Say additional prayers? Increase my pledge? Tell me, good teacher, what more must I do to live joyously, gracefully, radiantly?"

We meet a person here saying essentially, "I have everything I need, everything I want. No mortgage. Adequate health insurance. More than enough salted away for retirement. I can winter in the Bahamas, summer in the mountains, spin around in my Lamborghini, dance the night away. But, is this really all there is to life? Something is missing. And I see in you, Jesus, in your goodness, through your presence, a radiance I cherish but fail to achieve. What additional goodness must I realize?"

And what of that rude answer of Jesus: "Only God is good"? Portending a conversational shift, we see in Jesus a wariness of one who believes his life can, by ethical increments-another dollar here, an additional phone call there, a square deal here and a good deed there-reflect the fullness of eternal life. This sharp response by Jesus recasts the young man's compliment and assumption: "Friend: I don't think you know what you ask. You've no idea what you're in for. You're headed for a brutal shock."

Then Jesus backs off a little. He continues conversing for a moment along the lines our pleader draws. "I suspect," says Jesus," "you follow the commandments: Do not commit adultery. Do not kill. Do not steal. Do not bear false witness. Honor your father and mother. Do not defraud."

"Do not defraud?!" Since when did that become a commandment? You will not find it on those tablets Moses hauled down from Sinai. You will not discover it on the collage the Christian Coalition wants to nail behind the judges' benches in Americas' courthouses. The commandment "Do not defraud" comes to us from Mark and Mark's church. He dares include it in this passage centered on a man of great wealth. Mark and his early church know vast wealth can come from embezzlement, cheating, lies, rip-offs. Indeed, Mark may well suspect persons of means in his congregation gained their affluence through deceit and fraud. He places on Jesus' lips a commandment against corrupt practice perhaps riddling his own congregation, a commandment he aims at all of us, in every congregation, in any circumstance we may find ourselves. When we encounter those who insist the Bible and the Christian faith know little about economics- "Stay out of it," they say, "Stick to religion"-this little passage, among many others insisting on justice, this little passage is clear as a bell that wealth frequently accrues as a consequence of slippery tactics and abuse of power, and along with other Biblical passages consistently sees the poor not as the problem of the rich, but the rich as the problem of the poor. The Bible sees what we call the poor as the "impoverished" and we church folk retain our integrity as, in word and deed, our mission sustains that understanding.

We do not know what the young man thinks when Jesus repeats those commandments. Perhaps he thinks "this ethical cliché maps the route to filling the hole in my life? This catechetical recitation offers a clue to the radiance and joy I seek? Who does Jesus think I am? Some third grader in need of church school lessons? A moral juvenile needing the commandments drummed into his brain ad infinitum? I have heard them all my life, like an ad for Coke or Marlboro, my brain is numb to them."

In any case, our kneeling friend informs Jesus he keeps the commandments, his character is unblemished, his reputation impeccable. But, yet, "What must I do?"

We read, "Jesus, looking at him, loves him." Most of us can understand that. How many in your lifetime or mine do we meet and instantly like? With how many in whatever circumstance, do we find ourselves reading off the same page? I must say I identify with Jesus who in the course of his three year ministry must have encountered men and women he wanted desperately to include among his disciples. I think he sees here disciple number 13. What a find! An enthusiastic, highly moral person who could be of no little help in terms of leadership and perhaps drawing more of his kind into that little band.

But alas, Jesus pulls the plug. As spiritual physician he dishes out the proper prescription. As a function of his love he tells this man, not what he wants to hear, but what he needs to hear. Jesus does not sound like Ann Landers, or Abigail Van Buren or Miss Manners. He says to that importuning, imploring figure, "'Amid all of your success, your ethical excellence, your superb reputation, your religious practice there is 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.' When the young man hears this he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions."

How dare Jesus say this? Here he finds just the kind of person who might serve as disciple number 13 and he stuns him with a radical challenge sending the man disappointed-no, grieving-away. Unbelievable! I have to tell you, most of us minister types view this encounter with no less shock than that earnest inquirer. How can Jesus let go of a nice young man like that? How can Jesus confront this person with a choice so devastating he instantly drives him away? "One thing you need risk . . ." That is not smart evangelism. That is no way to market a church! No pastor I know would give that wealthy young man the treatment Jesus gives him. On the contrary, can't you hear us now? "Oh yes, I read about you in the Wall Street Journal. Let's have lunch." Or, "With your financial experience and capabilities we could use you on our governing boards." Or, "We have a little project going on down at the church I'd like to talk about with you."

If that person, man or woman, were to set foot in our churches today they would be courted, cajoled, dined and massaged; we would get them into the church first and convert them later.

"One thing you lack . . ." One thing stands between you and the bond you seek with the God who bears the release and joy you pursue . . One thing you need risk . . ." One thing . . ."

Now friends, for some of us that one thing may lurk in our possessions. We cannot avoid that this morning. The Gospel doesn't. We can't. And I suspect Jesus puts his finger on attitudes about wealth, its accumulation, meaning and stewardship that may make some of us here, including your preacher, rather uneasy. Be assured Jesus does not say rich people find it impossible to be graced with "eternal life"; he does say we may find it extremely difficult to loosen ourselves up, to free ourselves from what might be called the "tyranny of things." He does suggest, for instance, that significant humane causes in this world go begging because we spend so much on ourselves. He does imply that the cost of cosmetics, vacations, wardrobes gets in the way of choices necessary for the health and welfare of our neighbors in need. He does insist that our compulsion to protect our financial security can make us callous to simple issues of justice. Jesus makes it clear that our contentment with substantial bank accounts, vast amounts of working capital and shrewd investments can come at great cost to our own spiritual health. We see in the Gospel none of our old Yankee mythology equating financial success with Providential favor. Jesus never blesses free enterprise, capitalism, the stock exchange or the market economy. He never asserts the rich deserve what they get nor defends a moral right to keep it. Jesus never says that because we work hard for what we earn, because we inherited it legally, invested it wisely we may do what we please with our resources. Nowhere does he spin out a rationale for private property. Far from it. He implies that both our private property and the philosophies behind it stand among the things we resist yielding in the service of the Gospel. He suggests strongly that our single-minded pursuit of the bottom line, that our inclination to support legislators who, for the price of access, protect bottom lines-he suggests that our resistance to those who fight for economic justice, whether it be health insurance, pensions, social security, a fair graduated income tax, a livable wage, and yes, larger church outreach budgets, he knows these resistant attitudes may indeed enhance our bank accounts, our personal economic security and prosperity. But they can divert our compassion; they can numb us to human need; they can make a claim upon us supplanting the claim of love and a first loyalty to choices we may make with true freedom-true freedom-liberated from the bonds, the tyranny of things, the true freedom promised in recasting our loyalties that we may follow Jesus Christ. "You lack one thing," says Jesus. One thing you are unwilling to risk. For some of us it is our possessions. We surrender to the claim they make upon us. The world is upside down. Our possessions just may own us.

"What must I do to inherit eternal life?" asks our young man. Jesus replies, "One thing you lack. . ." What do you lack? What do I? What one thing will we not give up for God's sake? What will we not put on the line, surrender to a different sovereignty? Career? Status? Privilege? Possessions? What one thing will you, will I, hold back when push comes to shove and loyalties conflict? As Jesus says, "Where your treasure is, there will be your heart also." What do you value most? Will you risk it? Will you let it go? If by, God's grace, we find it possible, then rather than missing our chance to follow and live with Christ, we will find ourselves embraced with all the joy, all the risk, all the delight, all the courage of what Mark calls eternal life. It is a fabulous deal for us. So, that one thing . . .whatever it may be . . . risk it. For Christ's sake, give it up!

SCRIPTURE READING