Living in Faith

 

Luke 17: 5-10

The apostles said to the Lord, ‘Increase our faith!’ The Lord replied, ‘If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the sea”, and it would obey you.

 ‘Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from ploughing or tending sheep in the field, “Come here at once and take your place at the table”? Would you not rather say to him, “Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink”? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, “We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!” ’

“Increase our faith, Lord!” That seems like such a great request for the disciples to ask of Jesus but doesn't the reply Jesus gives them sound a little bit like a put down? Wouldn’t a request like this be one that would bless Jesus’ heart and make him feel like his message about Kingdom priorities was actually getting through to them? 

Maybe.

The thing about Jesus is that he is a heart reader; he always knows the deeper motivations behind the prayers we pray and the requests we make. He knew exactly why the disciples were asking him to increase their faith and my guess is that their inner motivations were not the ones he was looking for. It was necessary for him to immediately set them straight and make them understand that spiritual riches can be misunderstood and, like material riches, can be coveted for the wrong reasons and end up being abused. 

The disciples may have been asking for an increase of faith because it was so cool when Jesus said, “Be healed” to an ill person or “Be still” to a storm and those commands were instantly obeyed. What a sense of power! They sure wouldn’t mind having that kind of faith. Think of what they could do with it! Think of the status they would attain if they had the power to command trees, waves and illness. They would get so much respect. Jesus needed to immediately let them know that the desire for power and status is not a kingdom desire.  As Habakkuk said in the first reading, “Look at the proud person! Their spirit is not right within them, but the righteous person lives by their faith.”

 The disciples also may have been asking for an increase of faith because they were still having trouble believing that Jesus was who he said he was in spite of all his teachings and miracles. It could well have been a combination of both: the temptation of the power of spiritual riches plus the hardness of their hearts that made it difficult for them to believe, even in the face of all the evidence, that Jesus was indeed who he said he was. Wrong motivations plus a lack of trust creates very rocky soil for the planting of true faith. In this week’s psalm, the Lord says, “Do not harden your hearts as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness, when your ancestors tested me and put me to the proof, though they had seen my work.”

Jesus’ reply was not just intended to knock them off their high horses by telling them their faith was punier than a mustard seed or that they were just worthless slaves. He was actually opening up to them a beautiful kingdom mystery: true faith permeates the heart of the humble one who knows the power of being a servant of the Lord. Only in God's kingdom can the word 'power' be yoked with the word 'servant' and make complete sense.

Mind you, it does nothing for you to go around saying, “I am worthless, a big nothing and a lowly worm,” and think that this is what is pleasing to God (unless you realize that God created worms and thinks they are an awesome work of immense beauty). What is pleasing to God is the heart that does not demand compensation for service rendered. God owes you nothing – but he gives you everything. Why is it so difficult for all of us to rest in that? We always want to say to him, “I did this and this for you. I gave up my time, I left behind possessions, I accepted the difficult situation, I was generous with my money, I built up this and tore down that, I spoke your truth when it was unpopular to do so…” and the expectation is that we should be rewarded at least by increased faith, if not all sorts of little bonuses and blessings. It’s difficult to comprehend a God who does not operate on the worldly reward system of 'I’ll do this for you if you do that for me.' This kind of attitude keeps a person on the surface of a true spiritual life and it creates a vulnerability to being continually knocked off balance when things don’t go right or when one finds oneself in a spiritual desert. It's easy to feel punished and abandoned and wonder why it's deserved.

Jesus wants you to live on a deeper level than that. He urges you to move onto a level of faith that doesn’t look for rewards or compensation. He's not asking you to engage in self-abnegation or to completely reject your worth and value; he's inviting you to live in a place of total security based on the knowledge that before you ever tried to do something for God you were completely and utterly loved by him. It is impossible to make him love or value you more than he already does. Living Faith comes from dwelling in a resting place where status and recognition cease to be important because you have found your status and recognition in God. Walking in faith is being open to discovering his face in every moment and in every person you encounter because you know that God has done it all. He’s done the work and completed the story. All that’s left for you to do is to serve him, not for reward but because gratitude gives you wings and makes you desire more than anything to fly close to him. It won’t matter to you how you serve or where you serve for you will know that he can move mountains and reveal himself whether you are cleaning toilets or speaking to thousands.

Jesus wants us all to understand that faith is not a thing and it's not a just a power that makes things happen; it’s an environment. It’s where we’re called to live, move and have our being. The disciples asking for their faith to be increased was like asking to be given more air to breathe. They didn’t need more air. They just needed to stop holding their breath. 

We all need to be less aware of how we think things should go, accept that we are completely beloved of God and abandon ourselves to being a servant of the Lord by being a servant of the ones he loves - which means every single person we encounter each day, whether they are Christian or not. We must serve them as if they are Christ himself.

 

If we can do that, we will have more faith than we will know what to do with.

Just breathe.

Story Time

 Luke 16: 19-31

Jesus told this parable to those among the Pharisees who loved money: ‘There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.^* The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.^* He called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.” He said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” He said, “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” He said to him, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” ’^{202122232425262728293031}

Storytelling is an amazing art and gift. Anyone who has sat in front of a good storyteller knows the beauty and the magic of a tale well told. Every story has a lesson and a good storyteller weaves the lesson into our hearts without us realizing what it is that we’ve received. I’ve often wondered if Jesus sat up at night thinking up these parables or if he told his stories off the top of his head, trusting in the Spirit to compose a story through him that would teach, admonish, comfort and exhort in a way that was needed right in that moment. He was definitely a talented storyteller for he always had an image and a tale at hand, often a multi-layered one with elements that probably went right over the heads of his listeners - and straight to our hearts.

Take this story of Lazarus and the rich man. Certainly, Jesus is once again painting a verbal picture of Kingdom reality for those Pharisees who loved money, trying to tweak them to a truth that had somehow become lost to them along the way, the truth about a God who desires mercy, not sacrifice, a God who hears the cry of the poor and invites them to come to the water as his special guests at no cost. This is one layer of the story being told.

It’s interesting to me that he used the name Lazarus for the poor man in his story. Had Jesus already raised Lazarus, the brother of Mary and Martha, from the dead before he told this parable? Was Jesus subtly or not so subtly pointing out to the Pharisees that a Lazarus had already been raised from the dead and it certainly didn’t affect a change of heart in any of them? Or was Jesus speaking prophetically about how, in the future, they would fail to listen and understand when he brought Lazarus out of the tomb? And I can’t help but think he was speaking as well about the fact that he, himself, would be raised from the dead and even that would fail to convince those Pharisees as well as many people down through the ages that God is a God of compassion, a Father who seriously loves his anawim, his “poor ones”.

This parable contains something we women need to listen to and ponder upon. Each one of us needs to ask the question, “Has Jesus’ resurrection impacted the way I care for the poor?  Has his being raised from the dead spoken to my priorities in life and rearranged them so that I can see and respond to needs beyond my own?” I think I hear you answering that. I think I hear a resounding, “YES!”

Well, O.K. I don’t actually hear a resounding, “YES!” What I really hear is a lot of inner fumbling and mumbling and comments like, “Well, maybe. Sometimes. I hope it has, but I think I could do a lot better.”

All right. Fair enough. We can certainly all do a lot better. But I hope at least one of you is taking into account that lonely elderly person you’ve been listening to daily. And you who took your baby to visit some seniors so they could enjoy the beauty of an infant – was that not a sharing of your time and possessions? I know one of you has a home business and you send a great deal of the money you make to charities. Few people know that. Then there’s the woman and her husband who “adopted” a young single mom, helped her get off drugs, welcomed her children into their lives and have totally supported her as she tries to get an education and better her life. I humbly salute those of you who have volunteered talent, time and money to work with people in Haiti, Peru, Africa and other places where poverty or disaster have made life terribly difficult. And how often do you mothers act in mercy and compassion when your child is frightened, bewildered or sick and you rush to comfort and do all you can to ease the pain, teaching them at the same time that Jesus sees and cares about their anguish too? How many of you women belong to prayer chains and whenever there’s a need, the word goes out and the one in need is covered in prayer? How many of you have been seriously ill and have offered up the illness for the health of someone else? Who among you has made meals for someone who was laid up or grieving or have offered your home to help look after someone’s children in a difficult time? How often do you interrupt your work to listen to someone who has a heavy heart or just needs to know that they are worth listening to?

I could go on and on. When I think of all the women I know and how they all in so many ways, large and small, look after the poor in their path, my heart gets so full. I want to proclaim, “These women are my sisters and I stand in awe of their generosity and selflessness.”  It is so obvious that Someone raised from the dead has indeed spoken to these women. They have listened to the real heart of the law and the prophets and therefore they have inner eyes to see Jesus and inner ears to hear him say, “Comfort, comfort my people…speak tenderly to them…look to their needs.” Women instinctively know that a person doesn’t have to be in financial poverty in order to be a ‘poor one’.

Just because Jesus rose from the dead and ascended to heaven doesn’t mean that he stopped being The Storyteller. All I have to do to is to observe women - and men - who have been touched by the resurrection to see The Storyteller walking among us, telling his stories again and again to a world that has difficulty listening to one who has come back from the dead.  Not only are these people of God portraying the story of God’s way to a mostly deaf world but they are also solidifying the foundational narrative of the whole Christian community. At the end of Mass we hear the priest say, “The Mass has ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” He could very well say, “Go in peace and be a parable.”

We are his story.

The Kingdom Conundrum

Luke 16: 1-13

Then Jesus said to the disciples, ‘There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. So he summoned him and said to him, “What is this that I hear about you? Give me an account of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.” Then the manager said to himself, “What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.” So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he asked the first, “How much do you owe my master?” He answered, “A hundred jugs of olive oil.” He said to him, “Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.” Then he asked another, “And how much do you owe?” He replied, “A hundred containers of wheat.” He said to him, “Take your bill and make it eighty.” And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. If then, you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? No slave can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.’

The fog is rolling in off the ocean like a blanket of cloud right now and the forlorn foghorns are sounding. Don’t you ever wish you had a spiritual foghorn?  Sometimes it would be great to even get just an echo that lets you know you’re at least in the right vicinity and that you’re not heading for a bunch of jagged rocks.

I have been trying to write this reflection over a period of a couple of days – and getting nowhere. The fog has rolled in. It’s as if every point I try to develop fades away into the mist leaving me stranded and floating in the middle of a paragraph. In starting a line of thought I would push off with great confidence, thinking I knew exactly where I was going to go. Everything would seem to be going well and then I’d be reminded of a scripture that contradicted the point I was making. Other times I would realize that I was contradicting myself, starting out with one truth and ending up with another that didn’t support what I started to say at all.

In the end, I had to head back to the dock to regroup, hit delete and ask the Spirit again about what is going on with this Gospel parable that seems to point to one truth but confounds us with a story that cannot be examined too deeply before we run into contradictions to a lot of perceptions we generally hold to be true. If Luke hadn’t included that one parable in his writings, this week’s reading would be a simple, easily understood Gospel passage. Tossing the parable of the dishonest manager into the mix creates a tension that frustrates our desires for easy and straightforward truths about God that we can turn into neat little packages that can be quickly filed under preset headings. And then forgotten.

It’s a parable that brings up questions:

What does it mean to be shrewd in the spiritual life? Is it better to do great acts of charity with wrong and selfish intentions than to do minor acts of charity in a spirit of self-righteousness?  Do our inner motives matter as long as we do the right thing?

Meanwhile, back at the dock, I am being pointed in a direction that doesn’t seem to pertain to the parable of the dishonest manager directly but has everything to do with our reactions and responses to that scripture and others that are difficult to comprehend. It has to do with why this parable makes us so uncomfortable. It has to do with our innate need to have the spiritual life presented to us as a neat and tidy set of rules. We want policy. We want truth that stays exactly the same no matter what so that when we run into difficult situations we can run to the Policy Book or look under the right file heading to find out exactly what is expected of us and why.

Can we handle that it isn’t that way? Are we open to the fact that the spiritual journey requires us not to be always right but to be in relationship?

Let me give you an example:  If someone asked me to state an unchanging truth about God I could say, “God wants me to love others the way he loves me.” I would be right on the money with that statement. But how many situations do we all run into every day where we struggle with what is truly the loving thing to do? There are so many situations where we can see that being loving or charitable in a certain way could possibly lead to unhealthy consequences for the other person or for a community. Sometimes saying ‘Yes, I will” is a loving thing to do and sometimes saying, “Absolutely not!” is the most loving response.

Sometimes loving generosity feeds our egos more than fulfills another person’s needs but does that mean we should not give? Can charity be misguided? Can we give our money, time or possessions in an inappropriate way or is every act of charity and extension of God’s love to the world?

Sometimes love seems to require me to allow another person to walk all over me and abuse my rights. Their behavior is unhealthy and toxic – is it loving to allow them to engage in that behavior thereby increasing the sickness within them?  On the other hand, not being confrontational can cause a difficult person to be touched and changed by our gentleness. In the gospels, Jesus’ love was sometimes gentle and compassionate and at other times, his love was a strong and difficult challenge for change.

How can we know? Where are the rules that will unerringly guide us through all the big and small conundrums and questions we face almost every moment of every day? Scripture is full of self-contradictions; does this mean it can’t be trusted? What’s the deal here?

The deal is that while we are blessed with many wonderful guidelines and protective fences in the spiritual life, God does not require us to always be right. What he desires of us is relationship. He doesn’t want us to always assume we know what he thinks without asking him. We are called to always seek his face, to continually ask for the Spirit’s wisdom and to unceasingly knock at the door to the kingdom every moment of every day, struggling to hear his voice, see through his eyes and find the way. It doesn’t mean we will always be right or never make mistakes but it does mean we will always be surging in the right direction - toward the heart of God. And the nearer we get to the heart of God the more we discover that 'black and white' cannot possibly define the spectrum of colors reflected by the light of his unchanging Truth. 

Back to that dishonest manager: he pondered all the alternatives, asked questions and struggled through to find a creative way out of his predicament. The Pharisees assumed they always knew what was right and what was pleasing to God because they had a good handle on the law. The shrewdness of the manager led him to find a unique and unorthodox solution to his problem, one that ended up blessing many people, including himself, even though his motives weren’t pure.  The Pharisees were more likely to stick to their righteousness based on close observance of the rules – often ending up being a blessing to no one, including themselves. But not always. We can't say that their adherence to the law always compromised their compassion. We don't know that.  

You choose whose way was best. Or can you? I would check with the Lord first. 

Because it's foggy out there. 

I Will Arise and Go Home.

Luke 15: 1-32 (Below is an excerpt from the whole Gospel for Sunday)

But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate.

25 ‘Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.” Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” ’

This gospel is one that emphasizes the supremely generous nature of our God and of the Son who came to heal lost sinners and bring them out of the cold darkness into the warm light of home.  But what does this scripture have to say to the vast majority who have remained committed to the faith and have never even considered tossing it aside for the emptiness of living solely for the gratification of self? I would be quite surprised if any of us are guilty of underlying feelings of resentment toward those who have chosen to return to the church or toward those adults who are received with such joy into the Church on the greatest Feast day of the year. It would seem that most of us fall into a category somewhere in between the prodigal son and the surly, resentful older son.

Still, there have probably been many times when each of us have felt a little left out of God's attentions. It really is difficult to see someone else experiencing God's grace and blessings when all you have been experiencing is dryness, pain and struggle for a long time.

The word prodigal means "recklessly spending resources; wastefully extravagant" and when we hear the word, it naturally brings to mind the younger son wasting his whole inheritance on transient pleasure in questionable company. But could not the older son have been prodigal as well?

That's certainly not how we would define him in the context of this parable but when I read that Gospel and hear his resentment and observe his reaction to his Father's joyful generosity, I have to conclude that this older son was also prodigal and that he, too, had a problem with being wasteful with the resources he had available to him. His waste was different than his younger brother's obvious and measurable waste. It was more subtle and harder to identify because it was disguised within surface obedience to the rules and conformity to expected behavior. Did the elder son stay at home and work hard because he loved his Father, had a close Father/son relationship and enjoyed spending time with his Father or was it because he had his sights on his inheritance - his reward.

What did he waste? What were the resources he squandered away? He wasted a chance to experience love. He squandered away the opportunity for close relationship. He threw away the wisdom that comes from listening to and learning from someone older and more experienced. He misused time that could have been spent discovering the joy that can easily be found in sharing a simple meal or singing a psalm together. It was all there for him in the moment but he wasted those moments. Even when he was terribly upset with his father, he did not seek his father out to discuss it with him. Instead, he asked the servants what was going on. His father actually came to him to find out why he was upset. Even at that point he did not realize that he was so loved by his father that his father went out of his way to seek him out. All the older son could see was the injustice of so much love being lavished on his younger brother. 

It's easy to look at that older brother and dislike him but, as it is with most hearts that are wounded, there is more to the wound than what we can see on the surface. It would be easy to point a finger and exclaim, "For shame! You wasted your opportunity to experience and appreciate your father's love that was with you all that time and then you begrudge your brother your father’s love and forgiveness." In pointing that finger, we would completely miss a poignant lesson in what happens when we take for granted or stop being mindful of all that is already ours.

Mary Chapin Carpenter wrote a song called, “Jubilee”. Whether she realized it or not, it’s a Kingdom Song and I have pulled out a few verses that speak to me of the place we elder sisters and brothers often find ourselves when, without meaning to, we lose sight of all that is already ours.

“I can tell by the way you’re searching

For something you can’t even name,

That you haven’t been able

To come to the table,

Simply glad that you came.

I can tell by the way you’re standing

With your eyes filling with tears

That it’s habit alone

Keeps you turning for home

Even though your home is right here,

Where the people who love you are gathered

Under the wise blessing* Tree

May we all be considered

And straight on delivered

Down to the Jubilee.”

The older brother is all of us who have ever lapsed, without meaning to, into doing all the right things, having all the right perspectives, praying all the right prayers but forgetting that there is more to the spiritual life than just right actions. It is a right heart in the right place.  It is a Kingdom mystery that as God’s people we are on our way Home while at the same time we already are Home. We are a pilgrim people who travel well when we stay and dwell with God. Not just near him. With him. God has no distant relatives.

I have this image of an immense bulletin board somewhere in the universe. On it is pinned a note:

“Your Father called. It’s time to go home.”


•••••

*The word actually written is 'wishing' - wise wishing tree. In this context, the word 'blessing' seems more apt and brings to mind the Tree of Life. Apologies to M.C.C.

Kingdom Hatred

Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, ‘Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, “This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.” Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

A reflection I wrote before I began posting these reflections online was in relation to another Gospel passage where Jesus also uses the jarring word, “hate”. (John 12.25) In this day and age where hate can be a legal crime and we are so aware of the terrible consequences of hate in society and in our personal lives, Jesus encouraging us to hate our fathers and mothers, husbands and children, brothers and sisters, feels terribly harsh and not like Jesus at all. It feels wrong and it is truly difficult to know how to respond to it.

Knowing that the modern English translations of some words in the bible end up to be not exactly true to the original meaning and intention of the speaker, especially if the speaker was of a completely different nation and culture, I decided to see if I could find the original Aramaic word for “hate” and see if our modern definitions square up with what Jesus was really saying. What I discovered was that the Aramaic word for ‘hate’ is ‘Sna’.

Oddly enough, I don’t actually speak Aramaic – so I have no clue as to the pronunciation of the word ‘sna’ (snay? snaw?) but what I discovered about this word is that it has five meanings and the only meaning that made any sense at all in relation to what Jesus was saying in this Gospel was the definition, “to put to one side”. Jesus is not urging us to despise the people who are closest to us. In the context of this whole Gospel passage, Jesus is speaking about priorities and an understanding that if we choose to follow him, it’s not a choice that allows for a half-hearted commitment to be complied with only if it’s convenient or if it doesn’t cost too much. It’s also a choice that calls for much clarity and lightness of being. By ‘lightness of being’, I mean not being so burdened with possessions that it’s impossible to move when the Spirit says move.

In the last verse, Jesus says, “So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” Give up. Sna. Set to one side. I love the image of setting something to one side because it feels like gentle detachment. It’s not an act of loathing, and it’s not throwing something in the garbage; it is simply an act of saying, “Excuse me. You’re in my way and I can’t see Jesus. Could you just move to the side a little?” Either it's a matter of moving someone or something off to the side or else moving ourselves into a position so we can keep the Shepherd in sight. It’s detaching from the possessions we have, human or otherwise, in order to behold Jesus more clearly. Detaching is an ongoing exercise of simply keeping our sight lines clear.

The definition of what we possess and hang onto in a way that blocks our view of Jesus is going to be different for each one of us and a continual discernment of what these things are is important to a vibrant spiritual life. This discernment, by the way, will take the rest of your life. Detachment is a journey, not a one-time act and as you grow in the spiritual life, you will find you may detach from one thing and suddenly find yourself too attached to something else. We are a bit like possession magnets.

For some, the vision blocker will be material possessions that require constant maintenance and updating. Others might not be so concerned about things but find that they have gradually taken possession of children, partners or friends in such an unhealthy way that peace and trust in God’s provision and saving power is lost.

Others are deeply possessive of their dogmas, rules and regulations. And we all possess strong opinions on certain issues and it’s a matter of pride that we won’t give an inch, not one inch, even when compassion is called for, not righteousness. Many are very attached to their roles, ministries and territories within a parish community and aren’t aware of the subtle moment when defending their territory has become more important than what they were originally called to do. Some people are possessive of their fears or their disappointments and frustrations, finding it difficult to let them go or forgive.

Everyone possesses dreams and desires – many of them worthy and good until they make the present moment lose its good taste. When we are trying to control everything in our lives, when we have plans, desires, dreams and expectations and when we feel it is up to us to make everything fit into our visions, we will find that eventually we are bogged down, slogging along in a desert without making any headway. Even when the plans and desires seem to be led by God, our innate tendency is to try to make it all happen the way we think God wants it to happen. The responsibility of creating our own lives is a very heavy possession, one that obscures the vision of Jesus. How can you follow him when you can’t even see him?

In other words, there is nothing in this life that cannot become a possession that has the potential to get in the way of beholding Jesus. Possessions complicate life and obscure the simplicity of Love.

What Jesus knew when he told us to ‘sna’ our possessions was that once we lose sight of him and lose a sense of our relationship to him, we become afraid. We experience guilt. We work harder, try harder, run harder in order to assuage that guilt. Our spiritual understanding becomes distorted and we forget who we are and more importantly, we forget who he really is. We forget the loveliness of his love. We spend more time with words of fear, complaint, discouragement and dissatisfaction than we do with words of trust, gratitude, praise and love.

“…none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” That sounds like a strict and cold ultimatum. Try hearing it this way: “Beloved, if you are weighed down by all that you cling to and all that clings to you, it will be impossible for you to follow me because you won’t be able to see me and you will forget what I look like. Eventually you won’t be quite so eager to come close to my heart because you’ll be afraid of me, afraid of my love and afraid that letting go will cause you to bleed more than you can bear. When you’re burdened by possessions, the Evil One tells you I am to be feared, that you are not valuable, that you are unlovable and unlikable and that your life is a mess. When you cannot see my eyes, you will believe him. Yes, it costs much to follow me and to keep me close to you but it will cost far more to lose sight of me. If you cannot see my face and see the love pouring out of me for you, you have nothing at all and all your possessions are like dust in the hot, dry wind.”

The wondrous thing is he never goes ahead and leaves you alone to struggle alone with all you possess. He is there, patiently waiting to help you unload your burdens so that you can behold him and he can behold you, face to face in freedom and love. He wants you to detach simply because he is lonely for your love and because he knows that you will die without his.

There is no God like him.