THOUGHTS OF A MONK

The Beatitudes

June 26, 2005

I’d like to tell you a story. There was once a farmer who lived on the island of Crete. He loved his life and his work, especially tilling the soil to feed his family and feeling the warm sun on his back as he worked. He loved planting and harvesting, and the miracle of nature’s bounty never ceased to astonish him. And how he loved his wife and family, his friends and neighbors, and he delighted in being with them, eating together, drinking wine, talking, making love, and simply enjoying the rich blessings of a shared life. He was sort of a “Zorba of Crete”, who loved his tiny country and the rich life it had provided for him.
           
One day, he sensed that death was approaching. He did not fear the beyond, for he had lived a good life. No, what frightened him was leaving Crete, leaving his wife and children, his friends, his home, and his land. So, as he prepared to die, he grasped in his hand a few grams of soil from his beloved Crete and told his family to have it buried with him.
           
He died, and when he awoke, he found himself at heaven’s gates, the soil still in his hand, and the gates closed before him. After a while, St. Peter emerged from behind the heavy gates and spoke to him: “You’ve lived a good life, and we have a place inside for you, but you cannot enter unless you drop that handful of soil.”  The man, however, was chagrined. He was reluctant to let go of the soil and protested, “Why? Why must I let go of this soil? No, I’m sorry, but I can’t. What’s inside these gates I don’t know, but this soil I do know – it’s my life: my wife, my family, my work… It’s all that I know and love … It’s Crete! I will not let it go!”

Silently and with sadness, St. Peter left him and closed the large gates behind him. There seemed no point arguing with the peasant. After a while, the gates opened again, and this time there emerged from them a very young girl. She did not try to reason with the man, nor did she try to coax him into letting go of the soil. She simply took his hand, and as she did, it opened and the soil of Crete fell to the ground. She then led him through the gates of heaven. A shock awaited the man as he entered heaven… there, before him, lay all of Crete!

Last week, we celebrated the feast of Pentecost, the coming of the Holy Spirit into our midst to gift us with an enlivening sense of God’s Presence. It’s significant that this Sunday of All Saints that follows Pentecost reflects that feast’s real fruit: holiness. When we think of holiness we often think of what is totally beyond us: feats we couldn’t possibly hope to recreate, a state so otherworldly we almost despair of ever realizing it. But Matthew’s beatitudes bring us down to earth: they express the deep conviction that God’s blessing rests on those who are poor enough, needy enough, trusting enough, to allow God’s Spirit to captivate their lives. For Matthew, these are the truly happy ones, the blessed ones, who realize a joyous freedom that is able to withstand whatever swings life takes. They are able to rejoice whatever the circumstances because they allow God the freedom to define their true reality. They live peacefully, in trust, by the values of the Kingdom. “Happy the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

If we look at the icons on the wall, at all of these saints moving in procession towards the glorified Lord, we get a clue of the true meaning of holiness by the position of their hands: they are primarily open handed, willing to be led. A brother mentioned that he saw a T-shirt recently with the cartoon character Garfield on it that said, “Everything that I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.”  That’s just what sanctity is not, and what these saints were able to resist: the temptation to cling. Instead, by living open-handedly, in trust, they were able to let God realize in them the goal for which we were created: true holiness. Brothers and sisters, by keeping our hands open, may we allow the Spirit to realize this in us as well.