"What good thing must I do?"

 Just then a man came up to Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?”
   “Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus replied. “There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, keep the commandments.”
    “Which ones?” he inquired.
   Jesus replied, “You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony,  honor your father and mother, and love your neighbor as yourself.”
    “All these I have kept,” the young man said. “What do I still lack?”
   Jesus answered, “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.”
   When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth.

In Matthew 19:16-22, (NIV) we have one of the pithiest parables in all of the the gospels, I think. I’d go as far as to say that this passage alone would do as an entire gospel . . . except for one thing: we need the rest to help us figure out what it can mean to “follow me.”

To be successful enough in this world to possess both power and wealth is nothing to be sneered at off-handedly; every day and in every way we teach our children to strive in that direction: “Get a trade, go to college, work hard so you avoid poverty. Make something of yourself, for God’s sake.” And how can we be blamed? It’s biological for us to nurture our offspring, to steer them toward self-sufficiency and adequacy, if not wealth.

So how dare Jesus whisper the perversion in their ears that its not adequacy or abundance or even competence that secures their happiness, but rather the enigmatic and only, “give it all up and follow me,” that secures permanent contentment?

These are not guidance-counselor words: these are words of revolution, more of a guerrilla-like call to action than of anything else. These are not pastor words, but a Che Guevara-like summons to join a radical insurgency. And they were written down by the writer of Matthew to encourage and sustain a tenuous reformation in the brutal tumult of Roman occupation, where violence, even crucifixions were common-place.

Here’s a bit from Martin Klaassen’s History of the Defenceless Anabaptist Churches: “Matthias . . . returning to Palestine, was accused by the Jews of blasphemy against God, Moses and the Law. He was tied to a cross, stoned there and then beheaded with an axe.” (p.31)

However could the rich young ruler be convinced that following Christ would be the key to his eternal reward? It turns the whole world and everything in it upside-down. And are we to understand in our day that it’s through Acts of the Apostles and Paul’s letters to the churches that we are meant to understand what it means to “follow me?” Or should we place our confidence in the Sermon on the Mount rather? Or do both together give us plenty of clues about what Jesus meant by “come, follow me?”

Perhaps in an age where being crucified, stoned and beheaded—as Matthias supposedly was—can’t be the measure of how closely we've followed Christ, the struggle to which we’re called is nevertheless the same as it’s been in every age: that good shall prevail over evil, that the hungry shall be fed, the prisoners freed, the sick be healed, the disappointed comforted. That all people shall be reconciled to one another and to creation.

If we today can engage more fully in that quest, that revolution, by giving up our dependence on what we have and are, then the parable of the rich young ruler can surely resonate with us.

Matthias’ eternal reward did not emanate from his determination to be brutally killed, it was in his perseverance in following Christ in his time . . . no matter the consequences.

“But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.”