One of the great privileges of ministry is journeying with people through all the phases of their lives, but what often feels like the most privileged moment is journeying with congregation members in their final days and hours. It often feels like an angelic voice whispers as with Moses at the burning Bush, that one should take one’s shoes off because one is standing on sacred ground.
A few years ago, Wendy read a book by Stephen Levine entitled ‘A Year to Live’. He invites the reader to imagine that one only has a year to live and to work through what that might mean for you. What changes would you make? What relationships would you nurture? What things would you let go of, knowing that within the space of a year, you are in the end going to have to let go of everything?
In today’s passage from the Gospel of Mark, we meet a man who asks Jesus a question many of us have probably asked in some form: What must I do to inherit eternal life? Modern, contemporary people would probably phrase the question: What is the meaning of my life? How do a find true fulfilment, and a deeper sense of connection to something beyond the everyday world. For the man in the story, this question represents a sincere spiritual seeking—a desire to live in alignment with what is most true and lasting.
Yet, when Jesus gives him an answer—sell what you own, give to the poor, and follow me—the man goes away grieving. His wealth, his possessions, his attachments, are too great to let go of. They become barriers to his deeper spiritual life. If before we die, all of us are going to need to do some serious letting go, this Rich Young Man is not ready to let go, not ready to start the shedding process that will bring him true spiritual freedom.
This story, though situated in a specific Christian context, speaks to a universal human experience that resonates with all the great spiritual traditions of the world. At its heart, it’s a teaching about loosening the grip of worldly attachments, transformation, and the search for true fulfilment—a wisdom echoed in many of the world's spiritual traditions.
The rich man in Mark’s Gospel is not unlike many of us. He has done well for himself, followed the commandments, and likely lived a respectable life. But it is not enough. There is something missing. He is seeking eternal life, which we might understand as the search for that which is timeless, meaningful, and real. In a world of constant change, he is seeking that which changest-not to quote the hymn writer. Yet, when asked to let go of what he has accumulated—to release his attachment to wealth—he finds it too difficult.
In all the great spiritual traditions of the world, this theme of attachment is central. Whether we look at the teachings of Jesus, the Buddha, or Hindu sages, the message is clear: the things we cling to, whether material possessions, ideas, or even our self-image, are often the obstacles to experiencing deeper spiritual freedom. The Buddha teaches that attachment to worldly impermanent things is the root of much of our suffering, because when we hold onto impermanent worldly things —whether wealth, relationships, or status—we limit ourselves, tethering our identity to the impermanent trying to find security in things that are constantly in a state of change, like ever shifting sands.
In this story, the man’s wealth represents more than just material goods. It symbolizes the layers of identity we build around ourselves—the roles we play, the status we achieve, the things that give us a sense of security. But these external things, no matter how much comfort they provide, are not lasting. As the mystics and sages remind us, they can obscure the deeper truth of who we are.
Jesus’ invitation to the man—sell what you own, give to the poor, and follow me—is not simply about money or charity. It’s about the willingness to let go of whatever it is that holds us back from experiencing the deeper truth of life. On the spiritual path, letting go is not an act of loss, but and act of freedom. It’s about releasing our grip on things that prevent us from living fully in the present, connected to the larger flow of life.
In our Christian traditionm, this letting go is described as dying to self so that we might live in union with the Divine.
The invitation to the rich man is, therefore, a universal call to all of us: to consider what we are holding onto that might be preventing us from living more freely, more lovingly, more fully. Is it material wealth? Is it a particular identity or role we feel we must uphold? Is it an old wound that has come to define us or is it fear of change? Whatever it may be, the spiritual wisdom across the ages tells us that true transformation begins when we are willing to release these attachments and trust the unfolding of life and in a Higher Power or Wisdom that in our tradition we call God.
When the man walks away grieving, Jesus acknowledges the difficulty of what he is asking: “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!” In fact, he says, it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich—someone attached to the things of this world—to enter into the deeper reality of life.
The rich man’s grief shows us the pain of clinging to what is familiar, even when it no longer serves us.
And yet, this seemingly impossible task is followed by a word of hope: “For humans/mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” This is a reminder that, though letting go can feel impossible from our limited perspective, we are not alone in this journey. The words of Jesus suggest that God, the Higher Wisdom of Life is not in fact working against us. The Great Mystery we call God is in fact on our side, infinitely benevolent, constantly working on our behalf drawing us all every onward and upward, constantly filling us with the inner power and resources to do things we thought we were unable to do. “For humans/mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” In all the great spiritual traditions there is always the recognition that we are part of something much larger than ourselves. Whether we call that God, the Divine, the Universe, or the Tao, we are reminded that there is a deeper wisdom and grace that constantly supports us in the process of transformation. In the Christian tradition, it is the belief that the mystery God’s grace works through us, even in our weakness, helping us to release what we cannot on our own.
And so as we reflect on this story, we are invited to consider our own lives. What are we holding onto? What attachments or fears keep us from living more fully, more freely, more lovingly? And what might it look like to trust in the process of letting go?