What a marvelous story this is! It's all about eternal life and the kingdom of God and being saved. The man (Matthew calls him “young" man) who has many possessions, who is rich, wants to have eternal life. I imagine he was thinking about the hereafter and how he could enjoy it forever and ever. But notice how Jesus switches the terminology and equates "inheriting eternal life" with "entering the kingdom of God," which is a present reality. Then, at the end of the text, the disciples do another switch, and talk about the kingdom of God in terms of "being saved."

It is important to remember that eternal life and the kingdom of God and salvation are really the same thing. It is important to remember that these realities tell us about our lives now as we live them, in one way or another, in relation to God, even though these phrases also point to the future; to life with God after the present life. It is important to remember this, otherwise we will miss the meaning of the story.
So eternal life, the kingdom of God, salvation, is both a "here and now" and a "there and then." It's being whole, full, satisfied; it's living in tune with God, who is the source of all life, and living that way now and forever. The question is, how can that happen? How can that come to be?
The young man had a partial answer--or so he thought. That was the way of piety. Jesus directs him to the keeping of the ten commandments (he mentions six of them), and the man
says, quite easily, "I've kept them." Now Jesus doesn't argue with him. He accepts the man's self-evaluation. And perhaps the man did keep the commandments in an outward way, more or less. Jesus doesn't argue with him because he wants to lead him in a different direction, along a different road.
There is a hint of this new direction when Jesus disclaims the adjective "good" for himself. The young man says, effect, "I'm good." Quite subtly, Jesus says, "Oh, are you really? Come on, young man, no one is good but God alone.” The way of piety, of being good, is not the answer simply because you can’t do it.

But don’t you and I give it the old college try? Like the rich young man, we know it isn’t the whole answer, but we’d like it to be a partial answer, anyway. So we go through a lot of moral gymnastics, mostly out of fear of punishment or hope of reward, and we lay that whole stinking bag of “goodness” and God’s feet and say, “There you are, God. I’m cashing in my chips. I’ve cut out a lot of coupons, and even though it’s not the full payment, by golly , it better count for something, or I’ve just wasted my time and missed out on a lot of fun and enjoyment to please you.”

But that won’t wash, and I think down deep we know it. What does God really care about these half-baked, badly-motivated attempts to get on his good side anyway? It’s never enough and we keep sliding back, choking on our guilt and edging toward despair. The way of piety is a loser.

Even the young man knew that; that’s why he came to Jesus. There had to be something else, something more he could do. What might that be? Remember, this young man was rich; “he had great possessions.” Do you catch here a kind of hidden agenda that the young man is depending on? Jesus caught it. And exposed it; nailed it to the wall. If piety isn’t the answer, then maybe possessions are. How ingeniously Jesus gets to the nub of the problem, the heart of the matter.

The point of the man’s question is, what gives me a sense of security, of well-being, of being in the right with God, of eternal life, of being in the kingdom, of salvation? If it isn’t my piety, if it isn’t my being “good,” maybe it’s my having “goods.’ Now that may sound a bit strange at first. But consider to what point Jesus is trying to bring this young man. Jesus first tells the man, and us, what does not give us eternal life, what does not get us into the kingdom, what does not save us. Our piety does not do it, and our possessions do not do it.

“Young man, you want eternal life? I love you, and so I‘m going to tell you how to get it. Get rid of all the things that you depend on for your security. Get rid of all your possessions on which you rely on to make you feel safe and saved. Go, sell what you have. But don’t keep the receipts of the sale. Give it to the poor!”

You didn’t know Jesus was a Marxist, did you? What to we have here? Is this the old socialist line: soak the rich, hardworking folks who pulled themselves up by their economic bootstraps and made it in this land of unlimited opportunity, and throw it to the lazy, undocumented immigrants; the foodstamping, welfare cheaters?

Try to see where Jesus is taking this young man. Then you will see the point of the whole thing, and where he is taking us. There are a lot of ‘gospels” floating around these days, and one in particular that appeals to a lot of people in our relatively affluent society. Of course, it is not really gospel; it is law, and the worst kind of law because it masquerades as gospel. It goes like this: God loves you. And the proof of his love for you is that he blesses you. Your success is evidence of his concern and care for you. The more you have, the more God must love you.

The dangerous thing about this “gospel” is that it turns into a religion of good works quite quickly. If my success, if my goods and possessions and good health are signs of God’s love, then I’ll help it along; I’ll do what I can to keep that pretense up. There are the preachers in the churches and on television–positive thinking, possibility thinking; send in your contributions, God will bless you, and so you shall be saved. But not the hucksters of quack religion alone preach this “gospel.” The world bombards us with it. Do you want security? Proper financial planning will insure it. “Success! Success!” they cry. And so you shall inherit eternal life and so you shall enter the kingdom of God, and so you shall be saved.

Contrast this with our Lord Jesus Christ. Instead of superficial piety, complete submission to the will of his Father. Instead of affluence, dispossession–the cross, the sign of failure that shatters our whole success orientation.

Do you see now where Jesus was leading this young man? It’s really quite simple. He was leading him away from himself, from reliance on either his piety or his possessions. He was stripping him bare. He was making him totally vulnerable–cold, alone, naked before God. The “camel, eye-of-the-needle” metaphor is a word of divine judgment on our own self-reliance. “Nothing, nothing in my hand I bring, simply to thy cross I cling.”

What follows this divine judgment on our own piety, possessions, and self-reliance in any form whatsoever, is nothing but pure gospel. Eternal life, the kingdom of God, salvation–they are given. Grace, and grace alone! When the disciples ask how anyone can be saved, they are admitting that no one can–by what he or she is or does or has. Then how? “With God all things are possible.” There is the word of grace and gospel; it takes the whole business out of our hands and puts it into God’s good and gracious hands.

The cross reveals the depths of God’s commitment to rescue us from ourselves. The gifts of this ever-gracious God are forgiveness, life and salvation. The Christ who loved the young man who knelt before him expresses the same love for us to be his own. We are declared forgiven as water splashes over us. We are transformed by the word of God’s grace. We eat the bread of life, we drink the cup of salvation.

And so transformed, we come to discover that piety and a life of self-sacrifice, the search for economic justice as we heard in the first lesson today, are fruits of a living faith. To hate evil and to love the good, as Amos counsels us, is the result of our relationship to God. Selling possessions and giving up all, even life itself, becomes possible only in the light of God’s own self-renunciation for us in the cross.

What must I do to inherit eternal life? Nothing. What must I do because I have eternal life? Everything.
Amen.