When the young man heard this, he
went away sad, because he had great wealth. Then Jesus said to his
disciples, “Truly I tell you, it is hard for someone who is rich to
enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, 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.”
When the disciples heard this,
they were greatly astonished and asked, “Who then can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them and
said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”
Matthew 19:22-26
I've been doing a lot of thinking recently, and the thoughts
that have been circling through my head feel important but also fragmented and
hard to articulate.
1.) When I was down in Harrisonburg a few weeks ago, I was
talking with a friend who had just completed a two year term with MCC in the
country of Colombia. She brought a Colombian friend with her, a woman who spoke
only Spanish. During our conversation, she asked, is it okay if I
translate while we talk? I nodded, not thinking much of it, and later she
said thanks - I know it probably doesn't mean much to you, but it's
important. She doesn't mind observing what's going on, but then it's just sort
of watching a bunch of rich kids hanging out; it means so much more for her to
be able to be part of it, you know?
I felt startled. What do you mean, a bunch of rich
kids? I'm used to seeing myself as pretty solidly average, like: sure, I have a
car and a college degree and I grew up going on vacations and going to summer
camp and going boating on the Susquehanna, but - I went to public school! I buy
dried beans in bulk! The litany in my head is something like there's never
enough there's never enough there's never enough.
So odd, that shift in perspective. A Colombian woman sees
me, my average self, and thinks: rich kid.
2.) I told Thia, that weekend, that I thought maybe Early
Church had ruined me for normal life. I was thinking of my home group, of Brian
and Rachel, a couple who are married with a year-old kid. They live in a tiny
apartment and don't own a car; they don't seem to want much of anything. I
don't think I'm any happier than they are, I told Thia. There I was, a week
into my new 40+ hour a week job, living on my own in Bethesda, one of the most
expensive places to live in the U.S., starting to realize for real that money
doesn't equal happiness.
3.) It's strange, I told Meg. It's strange to live
and work in a place that hums along just fine without paying any attention to
spirit, to soul, to sacredness. I'm not sure what to make of it.
4.) I went to church in Maryland for the first time this
weekend. A woman from NIH who graduated from Goshen contacted me and told me
about a Mennonite church near D.C. So I checked it out and I like it; everyone
was friendly, they invited me to the potluck after the service. It felt
familiar, like a blend between CMCL and something from EMU. I felt cheerful on
the way home; fond, almost, and I didn't even mind the few miles on the
Beltway. It was strange, because usually I hate driving in this area.
What to pull from these scattered threads...I've been
thinking, I guess, that the Christian life ought to be seen not as rules, but
as a path towards thriving. It is very hard for the rich to enter the kingdom
of heaven, and I am learning this new each day. I don't think that God means don't
have money, but - it makes sense to me, to be wary of it. I think that
Brian and Rachel are more free than I am, although they have less. The
words of the gospel make sense in their context in a way that they don't in Bethesda.
I feel that very clearly. The lives that my friends live in that little
community in Harrisonburg don't make much sense in context of wealth and power,
in context of this wealthy suburb of Washington D.C.
[I told Thia, that weekend, that the people I rub elbows
with every day might look at people from Early Church and pity them, but I can
imagine Brian and Rachel showing up to visit me and pitying the people living
in the huge houses around me, thinking they don't understand what life is
about. (I am afraid, maybe, of growing into one of those people, of
becoming someone, someday, that my friends from Early Church would
pity). And so there God is, leveling the playing field, raising the weak
to challenge the strong. And yet: how impossible it would be to explain this to
anyone I work with!]
How to live with integrity, I've been asking myself. What
does that mean?
In regards to attending church, I guess it's easy to feel
like it's an obligation, like it's a rule. Christian? Go to church. But the
feeling I had coming home today makes me think, again, that the Christian life
is just a path towards thriving. It is not good for (wo)man to be alone. It is
good to be connected, to be loved... I was happy to be at church today, and
happy on the way home. I will go back, I suspect, because I want to be
thriving, because I want my spirit to feel whole.
Who then can be saved? I wonder, looking around at the power
and money flowing through the streets of the D.C. area. Me? Can I? Can I be
saved?
With man this is impossible, Jesus is saying to me, but with
God, all things are possible.
hm, food for thought. thanks for this.
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