Reflections in a needle’s eye
I was aghast when I saw the hole. Just before entering the courtroom, when I stood before a wall mirror to fix my tie, it gaped at me from the left shoulder of my shirt. A closer look revealed a tear, something that was bound to show up with prolonged wearing. Happily, the black robe covered it, and the lawyers and litigants would never know.
After I had heard the cases that morning, I asked myself if anyone on my staff had a needle and thread, but did not go on to make the inquiry, deciding instead to set off for home where the sewing could be done with greater competence, not necessarily by me.
While on the road, I waxed philosophic—I reflected on needles, on what they mean to mankind, how they are a useful tool, the very implement employed to cover up man’s nakedness.
And, regarding nakedness, I further asked myself if it was only physical? Because, at the back of my mind was the incident that Mark writes about in his Gospel, when Jesus spoke of a needle, too, not in connection with clothes but with something that goes beyond, something spiritual—how it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.
The remark was prompted by a man who ran up, knelt down before him, and asked, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus answered him, “You know the commandments: ‘You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and your mother.’” The young man replied and said to him, “Teacher, all of these I have observed from my youth.” Jesus looked at him with affection, “You are lacking in one thing. Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” Mark comments that when the young man heard this his face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.
Jesus used this as object lesson to instruct his disciples on the dangers of money, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And when the disciples looked surprised at his words, Jesus again said to them, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
This scene was the subject of a painting by the 19th-century German artist Heinrich Hoffman. It carries the title, “Christ and the Rich Young Ruler.” It is a beautiful, balanced painting, its colors harmonious, its lines clear and precise—a piece of work done by a thoughtful and adept artist.
The young man in the painting exudes nobility and power, and wears rich robes.
I wonder why Hoffman did not attempt to portray a camel trying to pass through the needle’s eye. Legend has it that there was in Jerusalem a gate called “the eye of a needle,” which the people used after dark when the main gates were closed. It was so small that a camel could not pass through unless it freed itself of its load and crawled on its knees. The usefulness of this image as an illustration of the need for material and spiritual emptying is obvious.
But such a depiction was not up Hoffman’s street, dedicated as he was mainly to portraits. And as to the rich, young ruler in Hoffman’s painting, the wealthy young man in the Gospel of Mark, who wears robes of such as gold fibers and rare silks, who could afford to travel on exotically decorated well-trained camels, if I were that person, I would have no fear of one day standing before the mirror and seeing a hole in my clothes, and, for not ever being compelled to use one, would not know what a needle is, and so I could not test my worthiness for the kingdom of God by getting my camel to attempt to pass through the needle’s eye–and this in effect would leave me endlessly riding the camel across the vast deserts of the soul.
