In his 1937 book The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer offers an exposition on the story of the rich young man in Matthew 19. It’s some asshole who comes to Jesus and pesters him about how to get into heaven. Jesus tells him to follow the commandments, but the guy keeps badgering, and so Jesus says – sure, go sell all your stuff and then follow me, with the implication being that he’ll be taking up a life of voluntary poverty. The rich young man goes away sad, and it’s sort of this narrative about how people get more attached to their stuff than to following God.

In expounding this story, Bonhoeffer focuses more on the first couple of questions. The man comes to Christ and says “Good Master, what good things shall I do, that I may have eternal life?” Jesus replies: “Why callest thou me good? There is none good but one, that is, God: but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments.” Bonhoeffer sees the young man as sort of having smart boy syndrome. The question is phrased almost as an academic exercise. The man is appealing to Christ as a great teacher, as someone in a position of authority. He wants to feel that he’s hearing something significant from a great thinker. He doesn’t actually want to know God’s will: he wants to be learned. “What he expects from the good master and great teacher is a weighty pronouncement, but certainly not a direction from God which would make an absolute claim on his obedience.” The man wants an answer that lets him go ‘mm, yes, interesting,’ so he can go off and ponder and not actually change anything. Christ’s answer – why do you call me good – is really then lashing out at the man’s appeal to authority. He recognises that the man is seeking out an authority figure instead of turning to God – which ultimately, Bonhoeffer says, is the man’s attempt to avoid following the straightforward commandments of God. Christ’s reply strikes at the heart of that evasion. Why are you calling me good master, he asks. Why are you seeking a good master’s opinion? Only God is good, and He has issued His commandments. Go and get on with it. You already know what you’re supposed to be doing.

The young man’s second question is – well, which commandments, as if he doesn’t know. Bonhoeffer sees in this reply the whole history of human disobedience. All the confusion, the debates about interpretation and how best to apply or understand the word of God – all of this, Bonhoeffer says, is tied up in the original sin. In the Garden, Eve tells the snake that God has forbidden her to eat the fruit, and the snake says – did He? Sin starts here, Bonhoeffer says. In doubt, in difficulty, in confusion and interpretation – in people taking on their own responsibility for deciding what’s meant. “The grown-up man with his freedom of conscience vaunts his superiority over the child of obedience. But he has acquired the freedom to enjoy moral difficulties only at the cost of renouncing obedience. In short, it is a retreat from the reality of God to the speculations of men, from faith to doubt.” The young man thinks that he’s seeking out the speculations of some great teacher. He’s seeking an interpretation, a perspective, a lens on the word of God. Jesus replies – hey, stop that. The commandments are right there. Stop trying to dodge the things you already know you have to do.

There’s intuitively something satisfying in how Bonhoeffer’s approach cuts through all the pontificating. The response to, say, the trolley problem is – hey, cut that out. Stop making up weird scenarios to try and figure out your ethical position on things. Stop being so concerned with your position and start being more concerned with God’s position. It’s obedience over conscience: “All his difficulties are shown to be ungodly, frivolous, and the proof of sheer disobedience. The one thing that matters is practical obedience.” At the same time, this idea of abandoning our conscience – it seems too much. It seems counter-intuitive. Are things always really as simple as following the Ten Commandments? What’s the Ten Commandment ruling on ChatGPT? Some things aren’t obvious. Some things need reflection. They aren’t benefited by bluntness, by impatient eye-rolling. I’m not certain on the best language to capture these ideas, but there is something to the charge of frivolity against the young man – running along the same lines as the critique of Talkative in Pilgrim’s Progress. There’s something also to the charge of selfishness or self-centeredness. Are our moral decisions driven by our own whims and sensibilities, or by the call from beyond? Give up your things and follow me, Jesus tells the young man.

“Here is the sum of the commandments: to live in fellowship with Christ. This Christ now confronts the young man with his call. He can no longer escape into the unreal world of his moral difficulties. The commandment is plain and straightforward: ‘Follow me.'”

No conceptualising, no rationalising, no setting up frameworks and lenses for interpretation. Nothing abstract, nothing negotiated. The call goes out. There is only yes or no.