The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [95]
BLESSED ARE THE POOR IN SPIRIT
Poverty of spirit does not take away joy in life. Quite the contrary. It is the gateway to joy, because it enables us to surrender to ultimate reliance on God, which leads to freedom. “Paradoxically, then, we are truly rich,” writes Fleming, “with an identity that only God can give and no one can take from us.”
Reliance on God may sound like a recipe for laziness, as if you needed to do nothing on your own. But the reality is the opposite. It is a practical stance that reminds you that you can’t do everything. Many things are not within your power to change. Some things, outside of your control, need to be left to God. Spiritual poverty frees you from the despair that comes when you believe that you can rely only on your own efforts.
This insight can free you from a popular temptation these days: workaholism and messiahism. It’s easy to imagine that you are indispensable, that everything depends on you, that you must do everything. Diligence can degenerate into a subtle form of pride. “Look how busy I am—I’m so important!” Or “Everything depends on me!” Poverty of spirit reminds you that there is only so much that you can do.
Or as my spiritual director said when I complained about having too many tasks to do, “There is a Messiah, and it’s not you!”
Over and over in Kenya, I was invited to relinquish my desire to fix everything and to solve everyone’s problems, not only because it was impossible, but also because that impossible task would have paralyzed me with despair. Moreover, it flew in the face of reality. Refugees given grants for sewing machines would return home and find that their homes had been torched by jealous neighbors. One man, a Ugandan cattle farmer named John, did everything necessary for success: located a plot of land, found the right type of cattle, and bought the correct kind of feed. John had done everything right. But he was forced to cease his business when a drought struck, which parched the land, killing the grass that fed his cows. I remember standing with him outside his farm when he asked, “What will I do now?”
I had no answer. I could not make it rain. I could not find him water in a parched land. All I could do was give him an additional grant to tide him over and pray with him for a change in weather. Poverty of spirit is a reflection of reality: we are often powerless to change things.
A Deep Sense of Humor
Let me have too deep a sense of humor ever to be proud.
Let me know my absurdity before I act absurdly.
Let me realize that when I am humble I am most human, most truthful, and most worthy of your serious consideration.
—Daniel Lord, S.J. (1888–1955)
Spiritual poverty also means freedom from the need for constant motion, constant work, and constant activity. It encourages you to say no from time to time, since you know that you can’t do everything, please everyone, show up at every gathering, telephone every friend, and counsel every person in need. It means accepting that you cannot do everything at home, in your workplace, or in your church. It saves you from being a “human doing” instead of a “human being.”
Ironically, our generous desire to do everything, care for everyone, and make everyone happy can lead to our becoming less attentive and more distracted, which does no one any good. Saying no to one thing means saying yes to another thing. Saying no to one more responsibility you cannot possibly assume means saying yes to greater attentiveness to what is already before you.
Poverty of spirit, then, is not a road to sadness; it is a path to freedom. It is not some