Looking Beyond The Mirror

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Readings: Wisdom 7:7-11; Psalm 89 (90):12-17; Hebrews 4:12-13; Mark 10:17-30

Picture: By Jason Tadyanehondo on Unsplash

Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble,

When you're perfect in every way.

I can't wait to look in the mirror,

'Cause I get better lookin' each day.

To know me is to love me.

I must be a hell of a man.

Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble,

But I'm doin' the best that I can!

My dear friends, do these words sound familiar? They’re taken from an old country western song, about a man who’s convinced he’s perfect in every way, but who still can’t help feeling as though something is missing. Something important that, despite all his best efforts, remains stubbornly out of his reach. He calls it being humble. And his own frustrated desire for humility is what gives this hilariously funny song an unmistakeable touch of sadness… To have everything we ever wanted to have, to be everything we ever wanted to be, and to still feel as though something important is missing. Isn’t this the experience of that rich man in today’s gospel? For convenience, let’s call him P.

The reading makes it clear that P is rich not just materially, but also morally. He has kept the commandments from his earliest days. And yet, P still feels as though something important is missing. Something he calls eternal life. Which is why he asks Jesus for advice. And this frustrated desire for a fuller life is also why P goes away sad, when he realises that he’s too attached to his possessions to follow the Lord. Despite his best efforts, eternal life remains out of his reach.

But sadness does not have the final word. For although Jesus acknowledges that it is impossible for the rich to enter the kingdom of God, he also says that everything is possible for God. Which prompts us to look at the gospel with fresh eyes. To see beyond P’s weakness and sadness, and to consider the subtle yet powerful workings of God. First, to recognise that P’s own frustrated desire for a fuller life––his sense that something important is missing––is itself a sign of grace. The same grace that the psalmist prays for when she asks God to (m)ake us know the shortness of our life that we may gain wisdom of heart… In P’s restlessness and frustration lie the beginnings of the same gift that, in the first reading, King Solomon says he received from God. A gift given in response to prayer. I prayed, and understanding was given me; I entreated, and the spirit of Wisdom came to me…

Which helps us to see more clearly just where P goes wrong. For in his interaction with Jesus, P focuses too quickly on the demands that the Lord appears to be making on him. Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and… then come, follow me. This is what Jesus, the alive and active Word-of-God-Made-Flesh, identifies as the one thing that P lacks. But the reading also tells us that, before pointing out what P lacks, Jesus first looked steadily at him and loved him. In this loving and merciful gaze, is found the power that P needs to do what is required of him. But instead of receiving and basking in that gaze, rather than allowing himself to soak up from it as much spiritual strength as he needs, P focuses only on his own efforts, and his own limitations. As a result, he goes away frustrated and sad.

And yet, even if, at this point in his life, P is unable to follow Jesus, isn’t it reasonable to believe that the Lord’s piercing gaze will keep following him? That it will somehow remain imprinted on his heart, haunting his thoughts and dreams. Much like how the sun keeps shining upon us, even when we fail to notice it’s rays. Isn’t it reasonable to expect that there will come a time when the Lord’s gaze will eventually succeed in catching P’s attention? Drawing him more fully into the warmth of God’s loving embrace. And isn’t this what we ourselves prayed for earlier, in the opening prayer, when we asked that the Lord’s grace might at all times go before us and follow after and make us… carry out good works?

And isn’t this something that we sorely need, we who live in a country that takes such pride in its own improbable success against all odds? Yet, amid the perfection of our many notable achievements, isn’t it true that there are those of us who still can’t help feeling as though something important is missing? And despite our often desperate efforts at numbing or distracting ourselves from it––such as by working too hard, or buying stuff we don’t need, or scrolling endlessly on our phones––doesn’t this feeling continue to haunt us? 

Sisters and brothers, even if it truly is hard to be humble, when we’re perfect in every way, how might our good Lord be calling us to stop looking in the mirror long enough to receive and be strengthened by his loving and liberating gaze today?