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With Gratitude in Our Hearts After the rich young man left Jesus, heavy of heart because his
possessions were many, the disciples reminded Jesus that they had
given up everything to follow him and then asked what they were
going to get in exchange for their sacrifice. This question is
enough to make one wonder if the disciples thought they were
superstars entitled to renegotiate their contracts. They show
here a cold-hearted approach to our choices in life, an approach
filled with sober calculation as to what we have to gain from
doing one thing rather than another. From that sort of attitude,
it is a short step to not caring what we do as long as life is
reasonably comfortable. In the end, love is frozen out by degrees
so that we don't see what is happening until it is too late. My child, if you accept my wordsThese words, so dear to Benedict's heart, suggest that if we make our ears "attentive to wisdom," we will seek for it as if it were a "hidden treasure." If we really care about the treasure we are seeking, then we will not calculate the risks and trouble that the search causes us. We will be too interested in the search. Our hearts will be in it. When Jesus says that our heart will be where our treasure is, he is, of course, posing the question: What do we treasure in life? Do we treasure anything at all? Likewise, the parable of the pearl of great value in Matthew's Gospel jolts us out of our complacency about what we value in life. A merchant who will impulsively sell everything for just one pearl, however valuable, is not showing the best business sense in the world, especially not in these days when diversification is the norm. Surely a merchant who calculates what the pearl is actually worth will conclude that it is not worth giving up everything for it. We have to hedge our bets better than that. But that is what the merchant does not do. A merchant who gives up everything for the pearl does not count the cost because the full measure of that cost can't be known until it is too late. This merchant is so consumed by desire for the pearl that all business calculations are flung out the window. Jesus emphasizes the need to treasure God's kingdom beyond all calculation when he speaks of those who, unlike those made eunuchs by birth or human agency, "have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven." This verse has traditionally been used as a proof text for the legitimacy of celibacy in Christianity, and Jesus is certainly using the term here in a figurative sense. This verse, however, can help us reflect on the nature of whatever sacrifice is required of us in any vocation. Here, sacrifices are not made grimly in the hope that making ourselves miserable will prove worthwhile some day. Rather, sacrifices are spontaneous responses to something that carries us away. Those who make themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven are not making a rational decision as to what will help them get ahead in life. No, these are people who so deeply treasure the kingdom of heaven that they pay little attention to what they are giving up for the sake of this treasure. It is possible, though, to see the parable in Luke about the person who tried to build a tower and the king who started a war as suggesting that we do need to count the cost of following Jesus. Or might Jesus be suggesting that the economics of building and the strategy of war are radically different from the kingdom of God? Perhaps the kingdom of God is the sort of menu where, if you need to see the price, you cannot afford it. Quantitative measures don't apply where God is concerned. Being consumed with enthusiasm for God's kingdom and for what we believe God is calling us to do, however, does not mean that we hop, skip, and jump through all of life's difficulties as if they weren't there. What I mean is that the Holy Spirit gives us enough burning energy to overcome the obstacles and frustrations that come our way. A writer who is consumed by a writing project does not give up when each word comes at the cost of much sweat. Neither does that writer try to figure out if the pain of searching for the right expressions is worth it. A writer who counts the cost isn't deeply involved in writing. A couple that break up over their first disagreement have not fallen very deeply in love. A novice who has fallen in love with the monastic life does not leave at the first hint of boredom during the Divine Office. Falling in love is not, of course, something strictly under our control. A man doesn't make an evaluation of a woman he knows, tally up a balance sheet, and then make up his mind whether or not he loves her. A woman does not make a list of the virtues of chemistry and then decide if she loves chemistry or not. No more did I measure the worth of monasticism and come to the conclusion that it would be a good idea to fall in love with that way of life. It would be just as reasonable to withhold our love from God until we have figured out whether or not God comes up to our standards of a competent deity. No, first we fall in love, and then we fumble for reasons as to why it was a wonderful thing that it happened. If we happen to find any reasons, we usually realize that these reasons would not have been found if love had not spurred us on to search for them. Although falling in love is something that happens to us, we are not likely to be overpowered by another person, an idea for a story, or the monastic life without going on a treasure hunt. It is possible to stumble over a treasure without looking for it, but looking for it greatly increases the chances we will find it. If we search, we will find; if we knock, the door will be opened for us. We must, then, cultivate within ourselves an openness to finding God's treasure, a willingness to fall in love. In cultivating this openness, we are already throwing calculation to the winds. If all we are looking for is the best deal, we will find it, but the best deal is not a treasure and it has nothing to do with love. For me, asking for entry into a monastic community was the result of having fallen in love with the monastic package: the round of worship, the work, the study, shared life with others. This is a love which keeps me going through the times when this way of life does not seem to be the most glamorous or exciting way to live. Like any vocation that takes time to unfold, the monastic life is a treasure that is rediscovered year after year as I stay with it. It isn't a case of giving up a number of things for God for the sake of receiving something in return. It is more of a case that the monastic life is itself the cause of my gratitude to God. From my first years as a monk, I remember being impressed during the intercessions at Mass, when Fr. Anthony, my novice master, offered thanksgiving for his monastic vocation. I was feeling that way myself at the time and, over the years, my monastic vocation continues to be a source of gratitude. It isn't a case of living the monastic life in the hope that I will get a reward from God for my pains. The vocation is itself a reward for what I haven't even done yet. Much of this feeling was caught by St. Paul when he wrote: "with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God." That is what I feel that I do when I join the monastic community for worship. Surely God wants all of us, whatever our calling, to "run on the path of God's commandments, our hearts overflowing with the inexpressible delight of love." This is what Benedict promises those who follow the monastic life, and surely that is what God promises to all who seek the kingdom as if searching for hidden treasure. ---Abbot Andrew |
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