Road Less Traveled

Genesis 12: 1-4a; II Tim 1: 8b-10; Matthew 17: 1-9

Life is difficult. It’s the first line in the book, The Road Less Traveled. The author, Dr. Peck goes onto say just after that sentence that it takes a great deal of acceptance of that statement to finally let it go and move on, accepting reality for what it is and now what we think it should be. It’s why so many choose not to take the road less traveled because it means change and letting go and remaining open to something new in our lives. We’d often rather just wallow in our challenges and difficulties, somehow victims of a God that doesn’t seem to give me what I want when I ask.

The spiritual journey is no different. It’s difficult and like life, probably why so many choose not to take the road less traveled. It’s much easier to make my relationship with God about what I do on Sunday rather than a daily affair of prayer and silence. The problem, though, is it starts to close us off from even needing God. We begin to settle for something less than we really are and plant our stakes deep in the ground, often even cutting us off from God. As much as we sell ourselves short in life, we can do the same in our spiritual lives, knowing they are so intertwined, often settling for death over life.

I think it’s why the story of Abraham and Sarah is such a model for us in our lives because they did often choose the road less traveled. Listen, pretty much everything up to this point in the bible ends in disaster. It ends with war and violence. It ends in destruction. But when Abraham and Sarah enter the story, there seems to be the dawn of a new day in salvation history. You know, the two of them have every reason to be like so many that had come before them and there lives just ending poorly. They’re 75 years old and it seems as if God never gives them what they want. They could live their lives as victims of circumstances and give up. They can just dig the stakes of their tent in deeply and settle for less. However, that’s not what they do. Here they are, well into their lives, and now being called to embark on yet another journey from a God that hasn’t come through for them the way they wanted. They don’t him and haw about it but rather set out for an unknown land. Despite their age, there’s still a sense of adventure and there’s still something that calls them forth in their lives.
Here’s the thing, unlike for most of us, there’s no going back. If we leave home we can often return to that location. For Abraham and Sarah, it was giving everything up. They were being called to pull of the stakes and take, once again, the road less traveled. They once again will head out into the unknown simply because of a message from the Lord to Abraham. It’s as if they recognize that it’s not about this world and see themselves as passing through. There’s no reason to dig in to deeply because when the Lord calls them to do what would seem impossible and even crazy to us, they go forward. They don’t allow the pain of the past or failed expectations to stop them from heading out to the unknown and once again living with this sense of adventure and child-like trust in God.

Now we couple that with today’s gospel and the disciples who witness the transfiguration. As quickly as Abraham and Sarah are willing to pull up the stakes and head out on the road less traveled, accepting the difficulties of life and yet trusting God and the unknown, Peter quickly wants to settle down. He quickly wants to build and altar, drive in the stakes of the tent, and call it quits. It’s not that they didn’t know life was difficult. They were fishermen which was not and is not an easy life. They understood that. But with Jesus, maybe they thought differently and react to what they see and decide to end the journey there.

Jesus, like Abraham and Sarah, though, still knows that the road will become much more narrow and very much less traveled as they make their way towards Jerusalem. The ultimate test will be the cross and whether they have what it takes to push through and be pushed through such pain and agony. It’s the moment when the spiritual and life intersect and we’re left with the decision whether we want to settle down, drive in the stakes, and erect the picket fence, or allow ourselves to experience yet another adventure by God calling us forth. It really is the reality of our lives anyway, always in transition, always being called forth, always being led to the great unknown, deeper mystery, that leads to the fulfillment of life that we truly desire. It’s easy to not change. But it also makes me miserable, fearful, and well, quite honestly, so self-consumed that I can’t see anything beyond my hurt and pain. We’d rather hunker down in Good Friday than experience the newness of Easter.

As we continue this journey through Lent, our prayer is that we have the perseverance that Abraham and Sarah exhibited in their lives and their own acceptance of the difficulties of life and yet not allowing themselves to become attached to it all. They remained open to change and to whatever it was that God was calling forth in that very moment. When we don’t limit ourselves to experiencing God simply on Sunday, but rather as a way of life, making the time for prayer and silence, we become more attuned to the voice of God as they did. Maybe that’s what scares us the most. When we do hear that voice, it may ask us to do something crazy or impossible, thwarting our own plans for life. But like them, when we choose the road less traveled and persevere, the promise of Easter remains a promise. It doesn’t mean it won’t be difficult. That’s a reality. But it will be an adventure, a change, free of burying our own stakes in the ground, and an openness to wherever God may lead.

Gratefully Living Without

Galatians 4: 4-7; Luke 2: 16-21

Like most of you, I spent part of this Christmas week with my family, which includes all the chaos with kids and such but also reflecting back on Christmas past. At one point some of us commented on how much Christmas has changed since we were kids. As you may know, I’m one of six. We were by no means rich but also not living in poverty, but we certainly learned to live without. As a kid, that seems like torture. You always want what is new, bigger, better, more advanced, and so on. But now, I can look back, as I’m sure many others can, and to see that that is a great lesson to learn in life, learning to live without and not having this constant need to be stimulated with the latest gadget. It’s hard to be grateful when I’m never quite satisfied and certainly only plays into the hand of the consumer culture. We can never have enough and yet, in the end, we only find gratitude without.

There’s a lot that stands in contradiction with the stories we hear throughout this Christmas season, including the continuation of the Christmas gospel we hear on January 1st each year. The shepherds finally find their way to Mary and Joseph and the new born babe to share what has been seen and heard. But there they stand at the center, Mary and Joseph, overwhelmed by what has taken place and the enormity of what has unfolded. But the story is really just beginning for them. If they had to carry with them what we have come to expect on Christmas morning they would never be able to make this journey. They really become refugees and go with nothing but what they have and of course, what is most important, the Christ, who will lead them on the way. As a matter of fact, they would face demise if they carried what we carry and maybe that’s the real point of the story. If we keep it at historical level we miss the point as to how their journey is our journey. It’s a journey of faith and trust and learning to take nothing with us along the way. It only slows us down in the first place and quite frankly, if we need to clutter our lives externally, we most likely are doing it internally as well leaving no space in the crib for the Christ. It will even become the message that Jesus conveys to the disciples of taking nothing with them for the journey while learning to trust and have faith in something and someone much bigger than themselves, in the unseen deep within them.

It is a day that we pray for peace, and of course, that’s first making peace with our own lives but we we also celebrate the Motherhood of Mary who ponders all this within her heart. She doesn’t stand demanding anything of anyone. She already has the space within to try to absorb the mystery that has and is unfolding and to be grateful for the real gift that has been given, of Love Incarnate. For today is also a day to give thanks and to be grateful as we begin a new year. But we too must make that space within our hearts to be grateful rather than trying to accumulate more and more. We too must learn to live without and to find God within what seems like nothingness. The journey Mary and Joseph embark on, and we too, demands us to go to that place of poverty. As refugees they must now flee the terror of Herod and head to Egypt only to eventually make their return at another time with an even deeper sense of trust and faith. They allow the Christ to lead them to the place of exile, to foreign land where they are without, only to find what has always been there and leading them along the way, the Savior that walks and meets them in that very place.

It’s what Paul also speaks of in today’s second reading to the Galatians. He speaks of the fullness of time taking on flesh under the law. Now it’s not just law as we understand it, but rather into the suffering of our lives, that place within us that keeps us bound and weighed down by what we carry. Maybe it’s not the Christmas gifts we may or may not have wanted, or the expectations we had of the holiday that weren’t met, but it could be the grief and pain that we continue to carry with us that makes the journey nearly impossible. Again, Mary and Joseph stand as the iconic figures of the season of making this journey while going without and finding the gift in the midst of it all. We so want to find the Christ in the joy and wonderment of the season, and that’s true, but the Christ is more than that. The Christ meets us where we have allowed our hearts to become exiled. This Christmas invites us to that place of poverty and to give thanks for the gift of living without.

As we continue this Christmas season and begin the new year, we pray for the grace to accept the invitation and walk with Mary and Joseph to our own hearts. Maybe we have to drop things and let things go as move along, but they promise us that what we find, that has always been, will satisfy every longing, where we will no longer be nagged by what seems to be never enough in our lives. Ironically, in the gift of going without, in our own nothingness, we learn the greatest gift, the gift of being grateful not just for what we have but for who and whose we are. Happy New Year!

Pushed Through

Isaiah 2: 1-5; Romans 13: 11-14; Matthew 24: 37-44

In 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr gave what would then be his final speech and sermon in Memphis. It is often referred to as the “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” sermon and then assassinated the following day. It was often scripture, like the one we hear today from Isaiah about climbing that mountain that inspired such sermons. He used some poetic language in that one along with so many other sermons and prophetic speeches that he had given in his life. One of the images was something along the lines of that it is only in the darkest part of the night that we can truly see the brightest of the stars. For those of us who live in the city that should mean something knowing how much artificial light has a way to swallow up the stars as much as darkness can seem to in our lives. We become reliant on the artificial light that we, at times, begin to believe it’s the true light shining through, almost lulling us into a false trust as we often find ourselves journeying through the darkness.

Now in that speech King was addressing the economic injustices that he so frequently spoke out against, along with racial injustice. Of course, even as a message of hope there were some that could not see beyond their own darkness to embrace a larger heart which will lead to his untimely death. But like the prophetic voices, especially Isaiah whom we will hear from during this season, it was a message of hope that was being delivered. King imagined himself being asked by God as to what period of history he wishes he would have lived. In the end, King said right now. He believed, that despite the darkness of his day, with racial and economic injustices, along with others, that God was trying to break through at this very moment and God was using him to do just that, and to offer hope to people that have become swallowed up by darkness. He does this march through history, beginning with people Israel who knew first hand the plight of suffering and darkness.

Isaiah did as well and this theme of light and darkness will follow us straight through Christmas at this point. Not only have they been led through the darkness of the years wandering in the desert, but also in times of exile, war, famine, and this perpetual moaning to a God who had somehow abandoned them through it all. In the midst of such darkness they begin to despair and lose hope that they will ever get beyond it, or better yet, be able to push through or be pushed through. As it was with King, God grants Isaiah this panoramic vision of life in a time when the people needed it most. Israel once again finds itself at a low point and Isaiah, rather than condemning as can often be done, offers a message of hope, to walk in the light of the Lord, and that, even in their darkest of days, God continued to break through and offer hope to a people that hurt and suffer. Like them, we begin to identify ourselves by our darkness, whatever that darkness may be. We begin to identify ourselves by our sickness, by our cancer. Or we begin to identify ourselves by our unemployment or underemployment. We begin to identify ourselves by our addictions or whatever that darkness may be for each of us. But that darkness is not me and it’s not you.

Paul too continues that theme in today’s second reading to the Roman community. He reminds them to throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. For Paul, it was a motivation to be love to one another and to recognize that this journey through life is one that we do together. If someone finds themselves wandering in darkness, they we are there to push them along and not to give up, to encourage. If we don’t, again, that darkness has a way of taking hold of our lives and we lose that panoramic vision of our lives and begin to despair and no longer believe that this God is not only breaking through in our lives but pushing us through that darkness. I’m mindful of the giving tree here as we also help people in need. We also mustn’t fall for this idea that somehow my darkness is worse or not as bad as others. Darkness is real in our lives, no matter what form it takes. Rather, it is a journey we do as one.

Jesus is preparing his disciples for the greatest of darkness, this experience of his impending death as King did in his speech. It will be one of the few times we actually hear from Jesus during these weeks. That’s why the message these weeks is to stay awake and to awaken from our slumber. The invitation these weeks is to climb that mountain, as difficult as it can be at times, and continue to allow ourselves to be pushed and not be so quick to give into the darkness of despair. Jesus knew it would not be an easy task for his disciples, but it is one that they must do together. They will quickly scatter but eventually find their way back to one another and push through the darkness of death together in order to be light to others.

This season gives us the invitation to take the journey that so many of the prophetic voices have invited us throughout salvation history, like Isaiah and King, along with Paul and Jesus. We are invited to the journey up this holy mountain of our lives and take a panoramic view of who we are and to ask ourselves where we have allowed darkness to define us. Where have we allowed ourselves to be lulled into believe that this darkness in normal and somehow have become a victim of our own circumstances, even questioning, as Israel did, how God could do this to us? When all along and through it all, God continues to break through. King was right in that it often is in the darkest time of the night that the stars shine the brightest, but it us who are called to be that light. We make this journey together, as one, in darkness and in the light. No, we are not the darkness that often defines us, but it is real. We are called to put on that armor of light and to be that light for all who find themselves climbing that mountain in what often seems as the darkest part of their night.

If You Are…

This feast, Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, is a fairly new feast in the Church, only 91 years. It began in 1925 by Pope Pius XI as a response to a rising secularism, especially in Europe. Of course, it doesn’t seem to have somehow altered that history. If secularism were a religion, and it is in some ways, it would probably be one of the largest on Earth. Pius XI saw the separation of religion from government that was worrisome. Today, though, it goes even further and maybe a step backwards to individualism. It’s now individuals who are separating themselves from something and someone larger than themselves not just governments. It seems to even escalate here in the States and in Europe this sense of separation, that nations become the center of their own universe. Only time will tell where it will lead us. In the past it has often led to war due to separation and this sense of isolation that causes speculation and mistrust.

When we do begin to separate ourselves from something and someone larger than ourselves is often when we find ourselves getting into trouble. We start to make selfish choices that we think only impact us and forget about those around us. David was such a person whom we hear from in Second Samuel today. He was considered the ideal king. He was young and had lots of energy. But it eventually goes to his head. He eventually begins to believe that he’s all that and not only the King of Israel but also the king of his own life. It begins to impact his relationships and will bring about a fall, a sense of humility has he’s put in his place in life and once again reconnects with the true King and he truly does go onto be one of the greatest. He comes to the realization that he can’t do it on his own and must keep his eye on the true Kingdom.

This tension that exists in our lives as well, between individualism and the reality of the greater Kingdom, plays itself out in today’s gospel from Luke. It’s the last we’ll hear from Luke this year as the liturgical year comes to a close. Jesus finds himself hanging between these two realities. He’s faced with the same temptation that he does in the desert that we heard back in Lent. There’s the crowd and the one thief that puts pressure on Jesus to prove himself. They’re so closed in on their own pain that they miss what’s really going on. There’s the temptation to do it yourself, in somehow I’m able to save myself and no need of a God or anything or anyone bigger than myself. Of course, though, on the other side hangs who we often refer to as the “good thief”. There’s an acknowledgement on his part that he is in need of something bigger, a need for mercy and forgiveness. And there’s Jesus, hanging smack dab in the middle of the two and standing in the middle of our own tension with that reality, that sense we can do it ourselves and don’t need God and a place within us crying out for something more, mercy and forgiveness.

In his letter to the Colossians, Paul, in one of the oldest hymns in the New Testament, tries to give community after community this same perspective in their lives. He speaks of not a Christ of the Universe but rather a cosmic Christ that has always been and continues to be to this very moment, unfolding within and yet beyond us. It’s a hymn that expresses the deepest desire of our hearts, this desire for expansion. But it is only the one who stands as mediator that can expand hardened and hurting hearts. The more hardened they become the more we rely upon ourselves, not in need of any God. Our own pride gets in the way. We want to blame everything under the sun as to why people don’t need God or want Church, from soccer fields to wanting to be spiritual and not religious, but there is always a deeper reality at play, that often goes unseen. It is often our own struggle with the two thieves in our lives and often giving into the one that steals our freedom and convinces us that I am enough for me and that salvation is up to me rather than seeing salvation as a communal reality.

This feast will hopefully continue to give us pause in our lives, not only today but with each passing day that we are given, not only as individuals but as community, nation, and world. The more we separate ourselves from the source of life the more we become hardened and no longer feel the need for something or someone bigger than ourselves. Not Christ but I become the center of the universe. We begin to fear expansion like globalization and try to hunker down and isolate ourselves as fear takes root in our hearts. What we truly desire is the expansion of our hearts, to embrace all we encounter and recognize the need for the other and the Other. There will always be that part of us that thinks we can do it alone, the rise of individualism in our own lives, but we must recognize the tension and the desire for connectedness and oneness, the seeking of that Paradise that is promised, not by me, but by the mediator, the one who stands at the center of this tension in our lives and world, Jesus Christ, the true King of the Universe.

Parade of Heroes

Hebrews 11: 1-2, 8-19; Luke 12: 32-48

If you watched any of the Opening Ceremony at the Rio Olympics this week, you know one of the most impressive parts is the parade of athletes from all around the world. It’s the one time where the best of the best gather every four years. Although we’ve made it so much into winning and losing, as we do life, the ideal remains the same that the greatest honor is just having been chosen to participate. I was struck by one young man walking in who was just trying to hold back tears. He may never win anything, but he was chosen to participate and accepted that invitation.

I thought of that image when I read this second reading we hear today from the writer of Hebrews. Actually, it is probably worth a second or third reading for all of us it is so well crafted. This chapter in the Letter is often referred to as the Roll Call of the Heroes of Faith. In many ways, it’s the writers own version of the parade of athletes at the Olympics. It’s the best of the best of these iconic figures that have done something great by accepting their own invitation to something bigger than themselves, like those participating in the Olympics. However, one stark difference is that it isn’t only about participating in something bigger than themselves, it’s also a humility that this comes from some great depths within them and yet beyond them that is beyond explanation. It has nothing to do with athletic ability or anything like that. It has to do, as the writer tells us, about faith and a trust in that which we cannot see.

So we hear of two of the ancients today, Abraham and Sarah, whom we just heard about a few weeks ago with their own struggle to give birth to a child. Today the writer of Hebrews reflects on their lives and their uncanny ability to trust and deepen their faith in something they can’t see, this great mystery that keeps leading them to places that are beyond their imagination. You see, we probably spend to much of our lives trying to trust everything we can see and hear, holding onto so many things that are tangible or make us feel secure but fear allowing ourselves to go to a deeper place, below the surface and learn to trust the power of the Spirit already present within us. It’s the only thing that can explain their lives and why they are our ancestors in faith and stand as witnesses not only to something bigger than themselves, but also deeper than they could ever imagine.

How else do you explain their sojourn in the promised land as in a foreign country, or at times hopelessly wandering, or this idea that somehow God should give them what they want in the birth of a child. None of it seems to happen in their lives. Yet, they never give up. There is always this desire for more within them that keeps them going, trusting that this God will provide. Maybe their prayers won’t be answered the way they want them to be or think they should be, but in the face of such adversity, they don’t turn away only continue to fall deeper into this mystery and trust in this love that is beyond explanation.

But the disciples aren’t there yet. They still are seeing with their eyes and hearing with their ears and have not moved below the surface. That’s really why Peter even asks the question about whether what he is saying is meant for them. They can’t see a deeper meaning, or as Jesus says, where your heart is will be where you find your treasure. Until they can move to a place of trusting in what they can’t see it’s going to be hard to understand. Remember what it is that they are experiencing with political and religious authorities at that time where there was so much abuse of that power that so many feared them. They, of course, in turn feared Jesus because there was something different about him. Jesus, in some ways, in what seems to be a rather negative message, is trying to lead them to that deeper place. That’s not who they are to model their lives. It’s no different today. There remains corruption and mistrust in these authority figures because they so often don’t live from that interior place of faith and trust, in what we cannot see. It’s so often about the immediate and my own gratification that we don’t even allow ourselves to live into the adversities of our lives to learn to trust in something deeper and bigger.

At the same time, we learn from our own ancestors. We have a responsibility to the next generation and the generation after that, just as Abraham and Sarah did for their own. All of that impacts the way we live our lives. It doesn’t mean that it will look and sound the way it did for us. If it’s a living faith it can’t. But the heart of it remains eternal, our trust in this great mystery that is constantly calling us into the role call of heroes of faith. We mustn’t tell ourselves that it’s only for someone else. It’s the culture of blame and victimhood that we embrace all too often. This call is for all of us and all of us must model, as best we can, this faith into something bigger and yet deeper within ourselves. What do we do when we face such adversities in our own lives?

Maybe we can’t always understand Jesus and this call especially to take up the cross, but there are so many others in the roll call of heroes that show us the way. We understand unanswered prayers. We understand hurt, loneliness, and abandonment. We understand it all but when it comes our way, as it did for Abraham and Sarah, what are we going to do with it. They too show us the way on this pilgrim journey. When we allow ourselves to fall into it all, we find ourselves being suspended in mystery and learning to trust and deepen our faith so that like them we can be taken to the places that even seem unimaginable in our own lives.

Living Today with Tomorrow in Mind

Revelation 7: 2-4, 9-14;  1John 3: 1-3; Mt 5: 1-12a

The feasts that we celebrate at the beginning of November have always been somewhat of a struggle. We, of course, have All Saints Day today which always seemed like the feast of impossibility for normal folks like ourselves. Then tomorrow we have All Souls, which on the other end, seemed like the day for those who just didn’t quite have enough stamina to make it to being saints. In the end, we’ve created this winners and losers reality with us stuck somewhere in the middle of it all, working hard, hoping to be promoted to sainthood but knowing the odds are against us and will wind up heading to this place called purgatory with the less than stellar. Well, what a crappy way to live our lives! Heck, we’ve all known people who have died that we know have lived and become holy people! Maybe it shows just how much we’ve tried to reduce it to our own language and experience rather than allowing these realities to shape us in a different way, of a God who encompasses all, the great mystical body, with endless love and mercy. Somehow our language and are drivenness to prove our worthiness and working hard at it come up short every time. Quite frankly, we’re trying to understand and know something that is way beyond our comprehension but at the same time, can deepen our faith and trust in the Lord.

The feast, though, provides the opportunity to maybe look at things differently since no saint begins that path after their death. Rather, from the moment we are born and pass through to this life we begin this journey to holiness and wholeness that is given to all. The readings today give us some framework of that path and how we consistently work towards becoming holy and saintly in this life. Keeping in mind that much of what we hear in Scripture is written for those who need encouragement in the time of great distress. It’s not window dressing and then go about our business at it sometimes can be for us. Rather, these are individual and communities that were facing constant persecution for their faith and their belief in the radicalness of a God who took on human flesh. John, the writer of Revelation which we know of as being this great apocalyptic message, gives that message of hope today. “Who are these wearing white robes?” is the question asked today. The response, “The ones who have survived the time of great distress.” Rather than seeing it as the end time of the world, it can also be viewed as the end time of this moment and God’s love always being revealed before and within us. The time of great distress for those on the path of holiness comes in our own purification, purgation we can say, of a continuous passing through into the newness of life that comes with trusting God and a deepening faith in this radical God.

Jesus, of course, lays out the blueprint for living a saintly life today and beyond. As I said earlier, looking at life from a different perspective often helps us grow into holiness, and Jesus is notorious for turning us on our heads. Today, in the Beatitudes, it is no different. To become saintly people we often must be humbled in the same way, by allowing ourselves to be turned upside down and inside out. He continuously calls us back to the “bottom” to the place of those who have been deemed losers in order to become great in his way. The reality of the afterlife as we have known is mirrored in the path we are on if we allow ourselves to enter into it. By surrendering to this process of faith, we internalize this blueprint and begin to live our lives differently, free to choose the way of the Lord. That was the struggle for Matthew’s community because they lived differently than the world had wanted or expected. In turn, they challenge everyone to live differently and more in line with the way of Jesus. When we do, holiness abounds in God’s children, as John tells us, for that is who we are and continue to become, for like God, we are a mystery that continues to unfold, never fully understood or revealed.

From the lens of God’s love and mercy, we have no need to fear the unknown of our own lives or what lies beyond them. Jesus never says to simply kick back and wait it out and hope for the best. No, he reminds his disciples over and over again to seek the greater now in this life, despite any adversities that come your way. Look it square in the face and allow it to move you to a deeper place in the mystery of you and of God. I can never be any of those other saints; all I can be and continue to become is the man that God has created me to be. That’s the path to holiness and saintliness. The more we can surrender to the love and mercy of God to free us of the worldly attitudes the more it becomes are way of life. We pray today for the intercession of all who have gone before us and continue to show and light the way for us, encouraging us along the way, to become the best of who we are, children of God. Saintliness begins now for each of us by surrendering daily to this great mystery we call God, to be revealed in fullness in the life to come!

The Penetrating Gaze

Wisdom 7: 7-11; Hebrews 4: 12-13; Mark 10: 17-30

So what is it about wealth? It’s probably one of the most consistent themes in the gospels when it comes to some kind of obstruction to the Kingdom of God. Of course, there is that misconception that somehow there is a correlation between wealth and favor with God, which may have been part of the issue with the rich young man, but not entirely. In our own world and society we have a tendency to demonize money, which in and of itself is neither good nor bad, really, and so then we choose to demonize wealthy people. But that too poses a problem for us doing the demonizing, making us judgmental towards another. So what is it about wealth that poses such a problem to the Kingdom of God that it would reoccur in the gospels?

It provides us the opportunity to look beneath wealth and possessions that we all have and the anxiety that they sometimes create in our life. Possibly another way to look at the rich young man, a man, mindful, who would be considered early on as a disciple, that maybe Jesus is asking him to begin to imagine his life differently. Imagine your life without the possessions and wealth. Just the thought of it for us, as it probably posed for him, creates fear and anxiety in our lives. Rather than looking at that fear in our lives, we have a tendency to buckle down and try to gather more and more money because we buy into the false security that it brings. Rather than putting our trust totally in the hands of God, as the poor often are raised up to model for us, we begin to trust in a false security and comfort.

There is nothing wrong with the young man in today’s gospel. I dare say, he’d be the perfect model for your sons and daughters. He’s done everything right. He’s followed all the rules. He’s been successful, even in his young age. He’d be the shining star that we’d admire in anyone. Yet, it’s not enough for discipleship and the call of Jesus. But again, it’s not our place to now demonize and judge this young man because he doesn’t do as Jesus asks. Again, just like the disciples, they’re all still trying to sort out what all of this means for themselves and what’s being asked of them. He simply walks away sad for he had many possessions, trying to make sense out of what’s missing in his life. It is, as the writer of Hebrews says today in the encounter with Jesus, the double edged sword of this relationship with the Word. Can we, as Jesus seeks of the rich young man, imagine our lives differently, free of our own false sense of security? Not an easy thing to do for even the most dedicated disciples…

And so what about Jesus in all of this? He has a lot to say to the young man and the disciples about wealth and discipleship. You can only begin to imagine a glazed look in their eyes through all of this dialogue, wondering what it all means. However, there is something different about Jesus in these interactions and how he responds to the young man. Mark makes the point to tell us that Jesus looks at him and loves him. He even goes on to look directly at the disciples. There’s something different about the look this time, the gaze of Jesus that, as Hebrews tells us, penetrates the hearts and souls of these would-be followers. It would explain the sad look on the young man because there was something different about the gaze of the Lord that will now go onto torment his heart and soul until he evaluates his own life and this call that has been placed within him. If we’d be honest with ourselves, we’d probably all respond the same way when the gaze fell upon us, walking away sad, because of our many possessions and the things we’ve held onto in our lives, thinking it all impossible, at least until we encounter the Lord and the gaze of love falls upon us. Can we imagine our lives differently or do we walk away sad, for we too have much that we have held onto and not yet willing to let go of?

It’s our turn to finish the story. You see, it’s not about demonizing anyone and their wealth, for again, that becomes our own judgment. We mustn’t be quick to judge the young man, for his story and his call is ours. So maybe at this time the gaze upon the Lord is asking the same of us, to begin to imagine our lives differently, and rather than buckle down and hold on tight, begin to explore those fears and anxieties of letting go in our lives and see our lives in a different way. It may mean walking away sad at times, feeling overwhelmed by what is being asked of us, but the words of Jesus, that nothing is impossible, and that penetrating gaze will never be forgotten, and will eventually lead us to the response the Lord seeks of us, to follow him, with nothing but a radical trust in His will. Then come, follow me.