By the Rev. Dr. Pamela Dolan

“Assume positive intent.” This is a phrase I’ve picked up in the last couple of years that I find really helpful. It is something that comes to me when I’m in a conversation that starts to feels dice or emotionally charged and I’m tempted to question the motivations of the other person involved. I’m sure we’ve all been there! Someone says something that you find hurtful or objectionable in some way and the defense mechanisms kick in. Our minds seem to be hardwired to place blame on the other person, and to start thinking things like, “well, he just doesn’t like me,” or “she’s probably making excuses to get out of the hard work we have to do.”
It is at that point that I try to pause, take a breath, and remind myself to “assume positive intent.” It’s an attitude of humility and goodwill that doesn’t always come easily, but it makes sense. After all, it’s very hard to know the motivation behind a person’s words. “Assume positive intent” reminds us that, most of the time, we’ll do a better job of engaging with people when we think well of them than when we’re feeling defensive or outraged. It goes along with other helpful communication skills, like staying open and curious, listening actively, and asking for clarification when needed.
This might sound a little fuzzy or new age, but really assuming positive intent is just another way to live out our Baptismal promises, such as seeking and serving Christ in all persons. I also found it helpful when considering the exchange between Jesus and the rich man that we just heard in today’s Gospel. Some commentaries seem to assume bad things about the man from the moment he asks his famous question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” People say that he’s trying to trap Jesus, or that he’s showing off, or has some other ulterior motive. There’s really no evidence of this in the text, however. We can’t know for sure, of course, but it seems likely that Jesus assumes the best of him, not the worst. He appears to take the man at his word, believing that he wants to do the right thing and that his question is sincere, even while asking a clarifying question and making sure they share the same ground rules.
Now, there is no guarantee that assuming positive intent, or any other communication strategy, will get us the outcome we desire. Both Jesus and the rich man are saddened by their conversation and how it ends. The man goes away shocked and grieving. Jesus, who has seen into his heart and loves him, must have also been grieving, distressed over this one lost sheep who is unwilling to do what it takes to follow him.
I can imagine that some of us might think that Jesus overdid it a little here. Did he really have to be so demanding, set the bar so high? Didn’t he know that he’d likely lose this person, and maybe many other potential followers? Couldn’t he have said, “Sell most of what you own and give it away to the poor?” Or even “Follow me for a while and then, if you like what we’re doing and it meets your needs, then maybe you can sell your stuff?”
I imagine we’d all be a little more comfortable with a Jesus like that. But, as we know, that’s not what Jesus did. He looked at this man, listened to him, believed him to be sincere, and then delivered the good news—which must have sounded like very bad news indeed at the time. If we extend Jesus the same courtesy we extended the man, and assume positive intent, we have to believe that Jesus was telling the truth, and that the man’s attachment to his possessions was literally the only thing standing between this man and eternal life. Would it have been better for him to keep silent, or to backpedal, instead of telling the truth? Would that really have been the most loving option?
Stephanie Spellers mentions this story in her book The Church Cracked Open. She writes of the rich man, “He did not know how to survive without his possessions and position, not just because of greed, but because they defined him. Jesus offered to train him out of self-centric and self-seeking behaviors towards self-giving and self-emptying. The young man did not want that freedom or ultimately that joy. Most human beings don’t.”
Many, many people have tried to soften the blow of Jesus’ words here. And yet, if we were to soften them, we would also take away their power to transform lives. Think about Francis of Assisi. He was one of those rare individuals who took Jesus at his word and literally sold or gave away everything he had. He entered the service of God with nothing to his name, not even the clothes on his back, because he stripped those off his body in a gesture of protest against the inequality and injustice he saw perpetuated all around him.
St. Francis embraced voluntary poverty and changed the world. He did not want any possessions, not even food or clothing, to keep him from fully experiencing what it means to be dependent on God’s mercy and goodness. I have to think that it was that voluntary poverty, that total dependence on God, that helped tune him in to the world around him in such extraordinary ways. That is the thing about focusing on God—it does not make one blind to the world, but actually more acutely aware of it. When you love God with all your heart and all your mind and all your strength, the natural result of that love is more love—love for everything God made, from people to polar bears, from earthworms to eggplant, and to all of life’s dazzling variety and abundance.
The story of the rich man and Jesus ends with them going off in different directions. It doesn’t seem like a happy ending. And yet, there is nothing in this story that closes off a different ending in the future.
We don’t know what ultimately happens to the rich man. We do know what happens to Jesus. He gives up everything—not so that he could have eternal life, but so that we could, you and I. And by eternal life we mean a life of freedom and joy, that is available to us all right here and right now. We simply have to decide, day after day, what we are willing to give up to follow him. Amen.