Matthew 5:1-12
So imagine you are in one of those cartoons that we’ve all seen: you climb up a steep mountain until finally you come to an old holy man with a long beard, sitting in front of a cave. You could ask him, “What is the meaning of life?” or “When will this pandemic finally be over?” but instead you ask him, “What must I do to become a saint?” What do you suppose he would say? Would he impose austere practices on you, with lots of prayer, fasting, and self-denial? Would he demand that you perform heroic acts of virtue? I don’t think so. As the years go by, I become more and more convinced that what this imaginary holy man would say is simply, “Let go.”
The scenario I describe might be cartoonish, but the question is not. According to the New Testament, anyone who follows Jesus is a hagios, a saint. Whether we own it or not, whether we think much about it or not, all of us who believe in Christ are called to be saints. And if the words of the Gospel today, the very beginning of Jesus’ great Sermon on the Mount, are any guide, then a saint is someone who lets go, who does not cling to the things that people so often cling to. Blessed are the poor in spirit . . . they do not cling to status and privilege. Blessed are those who mourn . . . they do not cling to the way things were. Blessed are the meek . . . they do not cling to power. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness . . . they do not cling to the status quo. Blessed are the merciful . . . they do not cling to grievances. Blessed are the peacemakers . . . they do not cling to violence. Blessed are those who are persecuted . . . they do not cling to safety or even their own life. And the great key to the Beatitudes comes right smack in the middle: Blessed are the pure in heart . . . the only thing they cling to is God.
I know how challenging such a message might sound at first, because we are all so attached: we’re attached to our families, friends, and loved ones. We’re attached to our jobs, our homes, our possessions. We’re attached to our money and our pleasures, we’re attached to our reputation and self-image. And obviously, Jesus doesn't want us to stop loving: he loves abundantly and teaches us to do the same. And he never promotes a dour, joyless existence: he’s always going to dinner parties and banquets, so much so that his enemies accuse him of being a glutton and a drunkard. But what allows Jesus to love so freely and enjoy life so fully is that he has an open-handed, non-grasping way 0f living. He doesn’t cling to anything except his Father’s love, so he is open to everything. In the words of Second Corinthians, he has nothing and yet possesses everything (2 Cor. 6:11). And Jesus, our Savior, calls us to live like that.
This is not mission impossible: Jesus isn’t setting up some unobtainable goal which few will ever achieve. He’s teaching ordinary people, people like us, how to be happy. In fact the Greek word that we translate in this passage as “blessed” — macarios — literally means “happy.” Happy are the poor in spirit; happy are the meek , happy are the merciful. The less we cling, the less we live close-fisted lives, the happier we will be. Saints are not perfect people, but for all their flaws, they know this is true.
I think, deep down, we all know it’s true, even if we do resist it. I’m still learning this lesson, but I can honestly say that letting go of some things has helped me be happier and more loving. When I was growing up, for example, I used to cling to outward signs of success, like good grades, awards, and titles. But it was exhausting, and the more I began to let go of that as a young adult, the better I felt. I have a strong need to always be right, which is obnoxious. But I really am happier when I let go of that need. I’m not always right: I don’t always have to be right. Like many people, I struggle with the need for control, but the reality is that I am not in control of many things: I can’t control the people I love, I can’t control my parishioners, I can’t control many of the circumstances that befall me, I can’t control what other people think of me. When I surrender some of that need for control, it is easier to love, easier to be happy, easier just to be. Of course I don’t do any of that perfectly, and I fail much of the time, but I’ve done it enough to know that it’s true.
So what about you? What do you need to let go? Past regrets? Future fears? Obsessing about money? Worrying about what other people think? Anger? Envy? Despair? And what would it be like to at least begin letting go of it?
Jesus clearly calls us to be less grasping and more open-handed and open-hearted. I don’t think that’s easy; I think it is the work of a lifetime, but it will make us happier, more loving, more Christ-like people. And all of us, filled with the Holy Spirit, can take steps right now to move in that direction. Even the smallest step matters, beginning with asking for God’s help. So fellow saints of God, what steps could you take, what burdens could you begin to let go of this week?
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