One day during my seminary years, the fire alarm sounded and we had to evacuate the building—we were convinced it was not a false alarm. We exited the building in a calm and orderly fashion and gathered on the field in front of the seminary. During it all, I noticed that many of my fellow seminarians managed to carry out various things. A few had their cassocks, one dragged out his TV, musicians carried their instruments, a classmate from the Camden Diocese clutched his saxophone. (He was a Philadelphia Mummer!) Interestingly, not one carried a theology book! But each carried a treasure, something important to them, something with which they could not part. They were willing to see all the other things destroyed in fire, but not their treasure.
Our Lord says, “For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.” What is your treasure? An answer might be found in what might be called our “Book of Values”—our checkbook or our credit card statements.
Last week, we heard the Lord’s parable of the foolish rich man who thought he had set himself up for a comfortable future only to find that his life would end in short order. Today, Jesus stays on message urging us to be detached from material things.
Detachment is not that we should own nothing but that nothing should own us. It is not a rejection of the material world but a reorientation of our hearts towards God. It means focusing on what really matters and being vigilant for the life of heaven. Our Lord warns us that at the end of time—but also at the moment of our death—we should not be found unprepared.
What is your treasure? Where does your heart tend to go? Years ago, I came across, a pastor’s very somber, gloomy worldview when we fail to set our sights on heaven. He wrote:
“The paradox of our time is that we have multiplied our possessions but reduced our value; we talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We’ve learned to make a living, but not a life; we’ve added years to life, not life to years. We’ve been to the moon and back but have trouble crossing the street to meet our neighbor. We’ve cleaned up the air but polluted the soul. We’ve spilt the atom but not our prejudices. We have higher incomes but lower morale. We have so much in our showroom window and little in our stockroom.”
I’d like to think I’m more optimistic and not as glum about our world, but the pastor’s words bear some truths that are worthy of our reflection. What is our treasure and where is our heart? St. Peter Faber, S.J., composed a prayer we can make our own today:
I beg of you, my Lord, to remove anything which separates me from you, and you from me. Remove anything that makes me unworthy of your sight, your control, of your speech and conversation, of your benevolence and love. Cast from me every evil that stands in the way of my seeing you, hearing, tasting, savoring, and touching you; fearing and being mindful of you; knowing, trusting, loving, and possessing you; being conscious of your presence and, as far as may be, enjoying you. This is what I ask for myself and earnestly desire from you. Amen.