The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [80]
Poverty.
And though Jesus could have gotten married, he chose not to. There are plenty of reasons to believe this statement, chief among them this: the Gospel writers mention almost every member of his family. (“Your mother and your brothers and your sisters are outside,” says someone in Mark 3:32.) So omitting mention of his wife, if he had one, would have been unlikely.
Chastity.
And though Jesus could have done whatever he wanted to, he was obedient to his Father’s will, even when it took him to the cross. (“Not my will, but yours be done,” says Jesus in Luke 22:42.)
Obedience.
Jesus was poor, chaste, and obedient. This is the main reason that members of religious orders make these vows: in imitation of Christ.
The second reason is more logistical. The three vows help with the daily life of the religious community. Poverty means that we own nothing of our own, but all things together. This makes community life simpler and encourages unity. Chastity means that we’re not married, and so we can devote more time to those with whom we minister. Obedience means that one person is ultimately in charge of things, which provides for clear-cut lines of authority. Each vow helps with the running of the community.
At this point I’ll bet you’re thinking, Big deal. Or maybe, So what? Or even, Maybe I should skip this chapter! You’re thinking, I’m not in a religious order, and I have no intention of living out poverty, chastity, or obedience. What does this aspect of Jesuit life possibly have to teach me?
More than you think. In the next few chapters we’ll deal with each of those “threatening” ideas and how they can help you lead a more satisfying life. First up: poverty.
THE CAUSE OF GREAT DELIGHT
Anthony de Mello was an Indian Jesuit priest renowned for his spiritual insights and, especially, his parables and stories. The author of many books on the spiritual life until his death in 1987, he was a popular lecturer within Catholic circles.
Some of de Mello’s parables were drawn from Indian culture, others were his own creation, still others a sort of mélange. Here’s one about a sannyasi (a wise man) that illustrates de Mello’s outlook on wealth and poverty. As with many of his stories, it finds its inspiration in Eastern spiritualities but is quintessentially Ignatian. It’s called “The Diamond.”
The sannyasi had reached the outskirts of the village and settled down under a tree for the night when a villager came running up to him and said, “The stone! The stone! Give me the precious stone!”
“What stone?” asked the sannyasi.
“Last night the Lord Shiva appeared to me in a dream,” said the villager, “and told me that if I went to the outskirts of the village at dusk I should find a sannyasi who would give me a precious stone that would make me rich forever.”
The sannyasi rummaged in his bag and pulled out a stone. “He probably meant this one,” he said, as he handed the stone over to the villager. “I found it on a forest path some days ago. You can certainly have it.”
The man gazed at the stone in wonder. It was a diamond, probably the largest diamond in the whole world, for it was as large as a person’s head.
He took the diamond and walked away. All night he tossed about in bed, unable to sleep. Next day at the crack of dawn he woke the sannyasi and said, “Give me the wealth that makes it possible for you to give this diamond away so easily.”
Poverty is a mystery for me. But not in the way you might think.
The mystery is why more people don’t choose to live more simply. I’m not suggesting that all people need to sell everything they own, beg for alms, let their hair and fingernails grow, and live in a cave, like Ignatius did after his conversion. (And which even he realized was excessive.) Rather, as de Mello’s parable suggests, not being controlled by possessions is a step to spiritual freedom, the kind of freedom that most people say they want.
Poverty enabled Ignatius to follow the “poor Christ