Perfection?

(From Mark 10, Matthew 19 and Luke 18)

I went with my friend to see Jesus. Yes, I did. Why? Because he worried me, that’s why. I had not seen him like that, ever, and I was concerned for him. I still am. He seemed troubled, as if something was not right, and I wanted to be there with him when he met Jesus.

I simply couldn’t understand why he felt so troubled. My friend, you see, has everything going for him. He was not of noble birth, but despite that, he has truly made something of himself. To his credit, he has worked hard, invested wisely, and accumulated considerable wealth. I suppose you would call him an over-achiever. And although he is still a young man, everyone in our community respects him. I am proud to be called his friend. 

I asked myself why he would want to see Jesus, anyway. Jesus, after all, seems to appeal mostly to the poor, the afflicted and the outcasts. My friend is none of those. Jesus, in fact, sometimes even criticizes those like my friend, men who use their wealth and power to oppress rather than to serve.

When I asked him about his reasons for meeting Jesus, he wouldn’t say. And although he didn’t invite me to accompany him, I joined him anyway. His half-hearted objection did not dissuade me, and so I tagged along.

We easily found Jesus, not far from our village. To our surprise, he was surrounded by children! I had never before seen a rabbi give so much attention to children, but Jesus did. Of course, we already knew that Jesus was unlike most rabbis in many other ways, too.

Patiently, we waited for an opportunity to approach Jesus. When it came, my friend rushed up to him, urgently appealing to the young rabbi to stop for a moment before moving on.

“What can I do for you?” Jesus asked.

“Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” The forwardness of my friend’s question startled me, because we had never before discussed the subject. And he certainly went straight to the point, with no words of introduction or explanation as to why he was asking.

“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not commit adultery, you shall not murder, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, honor your father and mother.’”

“All these I have kept since I was a boy.”

When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

And that was it, the end of the conversation. Jesus paused for a moment, expectantly awaiting a response from my friend. As was I. Surely, my friend would reply in some way; but he did not. He remained silent and would not look Jesus in the eye. Standing motionless in front of Jesus, he was clearly deflated. The answer he’d heard from Jesus was in no way what he had hoped to hear.

"Christ and the Rich Young Ruler" by Heinrich Hofmann

I looked at Jesus, awaiting some kind of condemnation of my friend’s silent refusal. However, even without speaking, the expression on Jesus’ face spoke volumes. It was an expression of such sympathy and sadness, even love for this man who’d approached him with so much energy, now completely drained away. But Jesus said nothing.

Slowly, I approached my friend, placed my hand on his shoulder, and gently guided him toward home. And just as slowly, Jesus rejoined his disciples, who’d been waiting for him. Somewhat impatiently, I might add.

As we walked away, I could hear the teaching moment that Jesus took from this encounter. He spoke of the rich, and of how difficult it can be for them to part with their wealth.

My friend and I walked home in silence. Honestly, I was surprised that this experience discouraged him so. His life seems so complete, so successful, so full, and I wondered how he could feel that anything was missing. Anything at all. 

But he clearly did somehow feel incomplete. He was truly disturbed. At first, it had occurred to me that perhaps my friend was just looking for an endorsement from this popular rabbi. Maybe he just wanted to be able to say that Jesus had told him that he, even at his young age, had already accomplished what the rest of us strive to attain over a lifetime. 

Except that wasn’t it. It wasn’t the reason my friend remained in such a disturbed state. I was convinced that he was not looking for a “seal of approval” from Jesus. 

It’s now months later, and my friend has not recovered. His energy, and his vitality for life, have ebbed away. Since his meeting with Jesus, his life has been little more than going through the motions. I have been hesitant to bring it up, because I am reluctant to tell him what I truly believe.

In the intervening months, we have continued to hear about Jesus. It’s all bad news, I’m afraid. Jesus, it seems, has made some powerful enemies. His preaching about the coming Kingdom of God doesn’t sit well with some of our religious leaders. And his continued attention to the plight of the downtrodden is not popular with our upper classes.

Jesus, it seems, is heading for a confrontation, one which he is unlikely to win.

All of this news has served to deepen the depression felt by my friend. 

Personally, I have learned a lot more about Jesus since our meeting months ago. He has followers, mostly among the simple folks here in Galilee. My conversations with them have revealed a Jesus who is much more than a rabbi, and more than just another evangelistic preacher. In a way, I feel, listening to his followers, that I am getting to know Jesus, almost as if he were here.

And I can say with confidence that just like my friend, I am now troubled by the conditions of my own life. I’m feeling a hunger for something more, something that my life up to now has missed. Something that so far, is without a name. Something that Jesus, perhaps, offers.

And looking back at my friend’s encounter with Jesus, it seems to me that he approached Jesus from a position of fullness and of confidence. As he said, he has observed the commandments from his youth. And it’s true, he has. But he seemed, it appears to me, to have approached Jesus, full of his achievements and yes, full of his success and wealth. 

And that’s what I am reluctant to share with my friend. Perhaps he should have approached Jesus, and never brought up the idea of eternal life, as if he could somehow do something to earn it. And perhaps, he should not have answered that he’d already accomplished obedience to all of the commandments.

Because what I’m feeling today is not so different from what my friend feels. But if I had the opportunity to approach Jesus today, I don’t believe I would ask about anything except that hunger that doesn’t go away and which I can’t feed on my own. I wouldn’t recite my accomplishments with the commandments but would instead, describe the yearning for something to fill me, something that I can’t achieve or produce on my own. After all, I’m not seeking perfection, just something to fill an emptiness, that perhaps, only Jesus can fill. 

Jesus, it seems, wants us to come to him empty. Yes, empty. His greatest desire, I believe, is to fill our emptiness. But if we come to him already full, what can he do?

I wish I could tell my friend all of that. Perhaps I will. Maybe it’s not too late.