"The Imagination of Their Hearts"

The Sadducees were the keepers of Judah-ism. They were its rulers, its guardians, its enforcers. But, Jesus says, even its legitimate teachings fall short of the Kingdom of Heaven. They will not lead a man or woman into the upward path of theosis. They are little more than a rational checklist:

The reason Jesus rehearses this list is to show that it "lacks one thing" (Lu 18:22). It lacks real relationship with God. After all, isn't this what is meant by Jesus' words: "Follow me."

But to follow Him, there are requirements. We must love God (another intimacy) and we must distribute all that we have to the poor. In this, the Master has invited the árchon into authentic religious life, which always means, then and now, the stripping away of worldly life and baring yourself to God. And this the árchon cannot accept. He chooses Mammon instead of God, setting a boundary for us. Judah-ism is a civil religion. It is about well-ordered society well being, but it will not lead to the Kingdom of God.

As he walks away, Jesus comments, drawing on the sayings of the Hebrew elders (later collected in the Babylonian Talmud):

Dreams, Jesus says, are not pure fantasy. They do not display outlandish things, such as a palm tree made of gold or an elephant (or camel) passing through the eye of a needle. But the heart of man (which was believed to be the seat of the imagination) works out man's striving thoughts in his dreams. Indeed, what the rich árchon represents is a whole thought-world worked out by the Sadducees — one in which conversion of life is not necessary for salvation.

The general problem, Jesus suggests, is that we just don't see ourselves as we really are, but instead live "in our heads." That is, we take refuge in our vain imaginings. Examples in our own time abound. The obese woman looks in the mirror and does not see her corpulence proven by the bikinis she wears at the beach. The lecherous man does not think people can see his thoughts proven by the fact of his chronic leering at women in public. The greedy man marks up his miserly behavior to prudence. And this rich árchon sees himself as a faithful man of God. In the end, only God sees our true selves. Only God looks upon us with brilliant clarity, missing nothing.

This is the theme of Chapter Eighteen in Luke, that we live in a "dream world." But at the Last Judgment, all the lights will shine upon us.

Hasn't this been a primary theme of St. Luke's Gospel from its beginning? Adherents to Judah-ism live in a dream world. They imagine that they are worshiping God in their Persian Temple, but they are not. And the Son of God, the Final Judge, has come to awaken them from this nightmare of nightmares: permanent separation from God. In this sense the entire Gospel of Luke is bathed in the light of the Eschaton.

The theme is plainly announced in Chapter One. The Archangel Gabriel shatters the delusions of Zacharias, a priest that has denied the existence of angels, and when this Temple priest protests, Gabriel strikes him dumb.

Next, Mary discloses that this is God's nature:

We might infer that this correcting of inequities is the essential act of God on earth. But this would be our fantasy. God is interested in this world only insofar as it leads us to His Kingdom. God sees the fullness of time. He sees everything in the light of the Eschaton. And in that light our vain imaginings instantly vanish. Our frames of reference, on which we have relied for self-justification; our possessions, our furnishings, our plastic surgeries which have propped up our false identities; our class status and worldly importance .... all gone, vanished in an instant. What will remain will be only ourselves shown in the light of unsparing truth. It turns out, God does not have compassion on our vanities. It is only when we have been completely stripped and bared that His compassion begins. And this helps to explain His special heart for the poor, the sick, and the oppressed. They have been stripped down, and their hearts are tender toward Him.

Let us quickly get our bearings in Chapter Eighteen. We begin with the corrupt judge who neither fears God nor his neighbor. He imagines that his high office and authority will cover his sins.

Next, we encounter the proud Pharisee. He attempts to eclipse his shortcomings with the failings of his neighbors:

I suppose this is a classic of any age .... similar to our congratulating ourselves that we are not heroin addicts or embezzlers. But does such a litany really constitute a true examination of conscience? By contrast, the penitent tax collector suddenly sees himself as he really is .... and is shattered by the vision and profoundly humbled.

As with the two thieves Gestas and Dismas, another pair contrasting pridefulness and humility, we see that two responses are possible. Their names mean "the day is done," and so their lives will be reviewed. The impenitent thief, Gestas, is humiliated as his life is plainly seen for what it is, and his response is rage and insolence. By contrast, Dismas, experiencing the same thing, responds with regret and is filled with humility. Doesn't this cover the waterfront when we have been found out: insolence to the bitter end or regret leading to humility? Dismas says,

Or as the penitent tax collector says,

God watches for this all-important breakthrough. The Prodigal Son's vain dreams of a gilded life have been shattered. And God watches. Like the Father at a roadside, God watches for what we will do next. He is not sympathetic to our fantasy world but quite the opposite. He wants to see that world, that dross, burned off that the gold beneath might be revealed. Here, and only here, real life begins.

Jesus' disciples are troubled at the Master's comment,

So He adds,

In this He returns to the sayings of the elders (this is one will be collected later in the Jerusalem Talmud, later turning up in a Midrash on the Song of Songs):

The needle's eye which is needful is the little chink in our armor of ego that lets divine light in. We must be flooded with divine light — first revealing all, humiliating us, but then relief, the relief of a smothering burden being lifted, for our egotism, with all its high maintenance, finally has fallen away.

Like the wealthy ruler, we may clutch at our material attainments and possessions but the time is coming and now is, Jesus says, when only our spiritual lives will matter (Jn 4:23-24). Only our spiritual lives will endure

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.