"_Children, how hard is it_!"--St. Mark x. 24.
I suspect there is scarcely a young man rich and thoughtful who is not
ready to feel our Lord's treatment of this young man hard. He is apt to
ask, "Why should it be difficult for a rich man to enter into the
kingdom of heaven?" He is ready to look upon the natural fact as an
arbitrary decree, arising, shall I say? from some prejudice in the
divine mind, or at least from some objection to the joys of well-being,
as regarded from the creatures' side. Why should the rich fare
differently from other people in respect of the world to come? They do
not perceive that the law is they _shall_ fare like other people,
whereas they want to fare as rich people. A condition of things in
which it would be easy for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of
heaven is to me inconceivable. There is no kingdom of this world into
which a rich man may not easily enter--in which, if he be but rich
enough, he may not be the first: a kingdom into which it would be easy
for a rich man to enter could be no kingdom of heaven. The rich man
does not by any necessity of things belong to the kingdom of Satan, but
into that kingdom he is especially welcome, whereas into the kingdom of
heaven he will be just as welcome as another man.
I suspect also that many a rich man turns from the record of this
incident with the resentful feeling that there lies in it a claim upon
his whole having; while there are many, and those by no means only of
the rich, who cannot believe the Lord really meant to take the poor
fellow's money from him. To the man born to riches they seem not merely
a natural, but an essential condition of well-being; and the man who
has _made_ his money, feels it his by the labour of his soul, the
travail of the day, and the care of the night. Each feels a right to
have and to hold the things he possesses; and if there is a necessity
for his entering into the kingdom of heaven, it is hard indeed that
right and necessity should confront each other, and constitute all but
a bare impossibility! Why should he not 'make the best of both worlds'?
He would compromise, if he might; he would serve Mammon a little, and
God much. He would not have such a 'best of both worlds' as comes of
putting the lower in utter subservience to the higher--of casting away
the treasure of this world and taking the treasure of heaven instead.
He would gain as little as may be of heaven--but something, with the
loss of as little as possible of the world. That which he desires of
heaven is not its best; that which he would not yield of the world is
its most worthless.
I can well imagine an honest youth, educated in Christian forms, thus
reasoning with himself:--'Is the story of general relation? Is this
demand made upon me? If I make up my mind to be a Christian, shall I be
required to part with all I possess? It must have been comparatively
easy in those times to give up the kind of things they had! If I had
been he, I am sure I should have done it--at the demand of the Saviour
in person. Things are very different now! Wealth did not then imply the
same social relations as now! I should be giving up so much more!
Neither do I love money as he was in danger of doing: in all times the
Jews have been Mammon-worshippers! I try to do good with my money!
Besides, am I not a Christian already? Why should the same thing be
required of me as of a young Jew? If every one who, like me, has a
conscience about money, and cares to use it well, had to give up all,
the power would at once be in the hands of the irreligious; they would
have no opposition, and the world would go to the devil! We read often
in the Bible of rich men, but never of any other who was desired to
part with all that he had! When Ananias was struck dead, it was not
because he did not give up all his money, but because he pretended to
have done so. St. Peter expressly says, 'While it remained was it not
thine own? and after it was sold, was it not in thine own power?' How
would the Lord have been buried but for the rich Joseph? Besides, the
Lord said, "If thou wouldst be perfect, go, sell that thou hast." I
cannot be perfect; it is hopeless; and he does not expect it.'--It
would be more honest if he said, 'I do not want to be perfect; I am
content to be saved.' Such as he do not care for being perfect as their
Father in heaven is perfect, but for being what they call _saved_. They
little think that without perfection there is no salvation--that
perfection is salvation: they are one.--'And again,' he adds, in
conclusion triumphant, 'the text says, "How hard is it for them that
trust in riches to enter into the kingdom of God!" I do not trust in my
riches. I know that they can do nothing to save me!'
I will suppose myself in immediate communication with such a youth. I
should care little to set forth anything called truth, except in siege
for surrender to the law of liberty. If I cannot persuade, I would be
silent. Nor would I labour to instruct the keenest intellect; I would
rather learn for myself. To persuade the heart, the will, the action,
is alone worth the full energy of a man. His strength is first for his
own, then for his neighbour's manhood. He must first pluck out the beam
out of his own eye, then the mote out of his brother's--if indeed the
mote in his brother's be more than the projection of the beam in his
own. To make a man happy as a lark, _might be_ to do him grievous
wrong: to make a man wake, rise, look up, turn, is worth the life and
death of the Son of the Eternal.