Chipping Away

October 14, 2018

Mark 10:17-31

It feels odd to say this out loud, but lately I’ve been trying my hand at whittling.  It started a few years back when my son was in Cub Scouts and got his whittling badge.  At first, I was opposed to the idea of giving my 10 year old a sharp and potentially life-threatening weapon.  But the group started out carving soap with plastic knives and learned all the important rules - carve away from your body, make sure no one is in your “blood circle”, close the knife when you aren’t using it.  Miraculously, the new knife led to no blood shed. So soon my husband and daughters got into the action, sitting on the porch -- blood circle distance apart -- leaving curls of wood at their feet. It all seemed a little silly and old-fashioned to me.  But then one day, out of curiosity, I tried it too. And there was something really refreshing about taking something knobby and rough and making it smooth. There was something meditative about slowly whittling a chunk of branch into a point. None of us are actually able to create anything much other than pointy walking sticks, but I have this vision of someday being able to create something from my imagination out of a block of wood.

Maybe that’s why the story I’m about to tell you caught my attention...

Apparently, one day Michelangelo was hard at work in his studio in Florence, pounding away on a large block of marble with his hammer and chisel.  A little child from the neighborhood watched as pieces of stone started falling away. The child had no idea what the sculptor was doing. But a few weeks later, the boy returned and saw, to his surprise, a large and powerful lion sitting in the place where the marble had stood.  The boy ran to Michelangelo and said, “How did you know there was a lion stuck inside the marble?”

Now, granted, it’s probably an apocryphal story.  But I love it anyway. And what I love even more is that Henri Nouwen took this story and turned in into a spiritual meditation:

Nouwen suggests we imagine ourselves as a beautiful but unformed block of marble.  What would God need to chip away to reveal the lion inside?

I brought this question with me to the Tuesday night contemplative arts gathering a few weeks ago.  I put my colored pencils to work as I thought about my “lion” - my authentic, God-beloved and created core.  As I drew, I thought about the parts and pieces that might make up that core, with each piece represented by a different colored shape spiraling out from the center:  

My glimpses of joy and grace, my love for my family and friends, my work with other people on this journey with God, experiences when God’s presence felt most tangible, moments when I’ve felt I was right where I belonged, times when I couldn’t stop laughing.  

And I added other pieces that I knew could be strengthened to be a more solid part of that core, growing the spiral a little larger:

Like a more consistent prayer life.  More patience with my children. More attention to the people and moments in front of me.  More intention about discerning God’s presence in the world around me. You get the picture.

And then I began to think about what might keep keep my “lion” from being as perfectly formed as it could be.  The things that keep me from being my real self or that prevent me from living as fully into my belovedness as possible.  I used watercolors to signify all of that, and there were some grays and browns, but mostly these pieces still had color and life too, they just weren’t as clear and vibrant.  I realized that what needs chipping away isn’t entirely bad. There is some resistance to God, some actively bad intentions and uncharitable thoughts, some laziness and inattention.  But when I looked at what I’d drawn there was also plenty of filler filler - distractions and preoccupations and excuses, regrets and worries and fears, attempts to be something I’m just not.

I think the same is true for the man in our Gospel story today.  Mark describes him as a man “with many possessions.” He seems to have lived a good and upright life.  He has kept the commandments and worshipped regularly. His neighbors would say he was polite and kind and well-intentioned, I’m guessing.  He has done what is expected of a person like him. It doesn’t seem like he has any major dark secrets.

The irony here is that by society’s standards, this man lacks nothing.  He is an impressive piece of marble.

And yet, he knows something is missing.  Despite his wealth and good behavior, he is longing for something deeper.  Following the commandments and amassing wealth has not given him the completeness and joy that he aches for.  He senses in Jesus that something more is being offered. And maybe he senses in himself some weight that needs lifting.

Now, there’s another version of the Michelangelo story that has the boy asking the artist how he knew what parts to chip away in order to create the statue.  And Michelangelo answered, “I knew there was a lion in there somewhere. I just had to chip away at all the stone that wasn’t lion to get to him.”

When the rich man runs up to Jesus, he kneels before him just like the people who have come to Jesus to ask him to cure them of their blindness or disease, or to return life to their children or servants that are near death.  I think this is a healing story at its heart. And just as Jesus does with the other desperate people that have come to him for healing, Jesus looks at this man and loves him. Just like Michelangelo could see the creature within the marble, Jesus sees at the heart of this man before him the beloved creature of God that he is.  And then, as he always does, Jesus offers healing.

I think the healing Jesus offers in this story is really a chipping away.  A chipping away that promises to reveal the glorious lion inside this rich and aching man.

The trouble is that for this man what needs to be chipped away is his wealth.

We aren’t told exactly why, but somehow this man’s possessions have gotten in the way of his becoming a lion.  Somehow his wealth has gotten in the way of his relationship with God, his ability to fully follow and trust God.  

Maybe his stuff has become for him an idol, something that he is captive to, something he unconsciously considers more valuable than loving God and neighbor.  

Or maybe his confidence in his own ability to make money and care for himself has led him to think he can earn his way to salvation rather than depending on God.  

Or maybe his wealth has become a buffer against vulnerability, making it hard for him to form relationships.  

For whatever reason, Jesus says that this man’s material abundance is also the cause of his lacking.  And so giving his possessions away to the poor is where potential healing lies.

Unfortunately, from the story we read today it looks like the rich man may not be up to it.  We are told that he is shocked and goes away grieving. It looks like this man is refusing to be healed by Jesus.

But what if the story isn’t over?

Maybe the writer of Mark’s Gospel never knew what ultimately happened to the rich man.  For all we know, maybe the man went on to slowly, bit by bit, learn to rely less on his possessions and right behavior and more on Jesus.  

Or maybe, just maybe, this story is intentionally left open so that we can imagine ourselves into it.  So that we can grieve along with him as he walks away, knowing that his choice is in some way our choice to make as well.  So that we can examine the places in our own lives where we are walking away from Jesus’ healing. So that we can think about what we long for, what we lack, and what needs chipping away in our lives to more closely follow Jesus.

This is a hard thing that Jesus asks -- of this rich man, but also of us.  Chipping away can be hard and painful and slow. Marble doesn’t give way easily, and neither do we.  It’s hard to let go of wealth and material possessions. And it’s also hard to let go of control, to fight free of habits or addictions, to say goodbye to an unhealthy relationship, to forego security and comfort, to live in the moment, to say you’re sorry for a long-standing hurt, to work on a marriage that has grown cold, to admit some truth about yourself, to set aside time in an already busy day to devote to something that seems intangible.  

But, as Jesus promises in this story, “For God all things are possible.”

We are in the loving hands of a master sculptor, who created us and longs to shape us gradually into God’s image -- our true selves.  I wonder what God needs to chip away to reveal your lion?