Monday in the Twentieth Week of Ordinary Time, August 17, 2020

Matthew 19:16-22

A young man approached Jesus and said, “Teacher, what good must I do to gain eternal life?” He answered him, “Why do you ask me about the good? There is only One who is good. If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” He asked him, “Which ones?” And Jesus replied, “You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; honor your father and your mother; and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The young man said to him, “All of these I have observed. What do I still lack?” Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” When the young man heard this statement, he went away sad, for he had many possessions.

The moral of this story might be: Don’t ask Jesus a question and then expect him to give you the answer you want to hear.

St. Matthew recalls the young man’s question as, “What good must I do to gain eternal life?”  St. Peter recalled the question as, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Mark 10, 17), to which Jesus replied, “Why do you call me ‘good’?”  It is the same question, though, remembered differently.  We can reconcile the versions and bring out the meaning by rewording the question slightly, with reference to the Greek text: Excellent teacher, what thing shall I do that will be useful for my gaining eternal life?  The word translated in the Matthew reading as “good” (as in, “good teacher”) is agathos, which can mean moral, noble, lucky, or useful.  Now, the young man is not addressing Jesus as “good teacher” in the sense of a “holy” teacher.  He is addressing him as one who is “good” at what he does, teaching, hence, “excellent”, as I have reworded it.  Similarly, this is the word Matthew recalls him using, as in “what good”.  The young man is not asking what virtuous works he should perform: he is asking what actions can he perform that would be useful for him in his quest for eternal life.  This may or may not involve virtuous works.  He is merely asking, What will get me into heaven?

The Lord Jesus asks him to specify his use of agathos.  This evidently takes the young man aback because in none of the Gospels does he give an answer.  Jesus then instructs him to keep the Commandments.  Strangely, the young man asks, “Which ones?”  It is as though a student were to ask a teacher which questions on the test he meant him to answer.  Now, while it would be easy to think that this fellow is not very bright, it could be the case that he had heard that Jesus had abolished some of the laws.  In fact, Jesus did find it necessary to insist that he had not come to abolish the law but to fulfill it: “For amen I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot, or one tittle shall not pass of the law, till all be fulfilled” (Matthew 5, 18).  And so, Jesus begins to list the Commandments for him.  But the young man interrupts the Lord: “All of these I have observed. What do I still lack?”  

Now, here is true insight.  “What do I still lack?”  It is a question that sooner or later— usually later — each of us is going to ask.  I hear secular people ask it all the time: I’ve gotten my degrees, paid off my debts, had a successful career, and raised children, but I feel like I’m missing something in my life.  I feel unfulfilled.  What do I still need?  Typical suggestions I hear are: volunteer work, travel, new human relationships, pets, and hobbies.  It is remarkable that a young man, probably in his late teens, would have some concern for his eternal destiny and sense that he lacked something for it.  St. Peter remembers that in this moment, “Jesus, looking on him, loved him” (Mark 10, 21), and then offered him a life with him beyond all imagining, but in order to have this, “Go, sell what you have and give to the poor.”  

To be saved, keep the commandments, but to follow me on a deeper level, in a more intimate way, first do this.  Jesus does not here make a general commandment to everyone who believes in him, but he makes an offer.  The offer requires thoroughly uprooting one’s life and handing it to Jesus without reservation.  Let us note again that Matthew makes it clear that this was a young man, that is, as yet unmarried, who would find it easier to dispose of his earthly goods.  

What Jesus tells him is too much for him, at least at that time.  But what is it that especially intimidates him?  Is it really that “he had many possessions” and he could not dream of parting with them, or was he frightened of what life with Jesus would mean?  Was he frightened of the Lord’s love, for he certainly saw that the Lord looked with love on him?  Intimacy frightens people as much as they long for it because it means allowing another to fully know him, warts and all.  Peter had felt this initially, saying to Jesus, “Leave me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” (Luke 5, 8).  

Ultimately, we must ask ourselves, how close do we want to be to Jesus?  Do we “just” want to get into heaven, or do we want to be in love with God?