We read in the first three gospels of a person spoken of in Luke's record as "a certain ruler," who went to Jesus desiring to learn what he should do to gain eternal life. Mark relates the incident in this manner: "There came one running, and kneeled to him, and asked him, Good Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" The sincerity of his desire was manifest, but self-righteousness was rebuked by the Nazarene in the assurance that God is the only good. Jesus' desire was for him to see the truth, to turn his thought from personality, from a limited sense of things, and to learn that by obedience to God we reflect or manifest good, become representatives or living witnesses of divine Principle, and thus realize that we are "heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ."
This man had planned or outlined that there must be some good deed he must perform before entering into eternal life. Matthew writes that he inquired, "What good thing shall I do?" But when told to keep the Commandments, self-righteousness expressed itself in the reply to the Master, "All these have I observed from my youth." Then Jesus, with much love, willing to heal him, and knowing so well what was holding him in bondage, showed him the error: "One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me." This required a sacrifice which to the young man seemed entirely too great. He desired righteousness, but not at such a cost. He could not give up his material wealth, his pride of possession. Moreover, he probably thought, Must I not trust to this same material wealth for daily sustenance? The "treasure in heaven" was not evidenced by the material senses. He could not "give to the poor," feed the hungry, heal the sick and sinning; indeed, God and heaven seemed very far away. He could not follow Jesus, become a humble follower of Truth. Perhaps he even felt it would not be popular to do so; he was popular and much sought after, because of his "great possessions," so foreign to the possessions of divine Love. His desire for good was not so great as his pride, self-satisfaction, and love of ease in matter. Doubtless, he could not even understand the meaning of Jesus' words, because of his planning and outlining, but went away sorrowful and sad,—perhaps another burden, a greater belief in the substantiality and reality of matter, added.
Small wonder that Jesus said to his disciples, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." A camel, when stripped of its pack, which does not rightfully belong to it, can readily pass through a comparatively small space; so, too, when disrobed of error's goods,— fear, doubt, pride of popularity, a belief that material riches are essential to existence,—we may go through very difficult conditions without harm or injury, and enter safely into harmony. Let us not forget that not a single garment—thoughts belonging to materiality, which we know are no part of our real being—can be smuggled into the realm of righteousness. But righteous thoughts alone, which become righteous endeavor, enter into eternal life; hence, the fruitlessness of any planning of finite sense.
