You’ve probably taken a standardized test at some point in your life: the SAT, the ACT, the Meyers-Briggs, etc. But is there a standardized test for holiness? That’s really the question of the rich young man in today’s gospel. Just like we might have asked, What must I do to get this job, or get into college? What test do I have to pass?, the man in the gospel asks, “What must I do (what test must I pass) to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus does, in a sense, give him a standardized test: one of the oldest in human history, the Ten Commandments. It’s a true-false test. And the man in the story had already passed it. He had carefully kept all the commandments since his youth. A perfect score. But he hadn’t achieved his goal of true personal holiness. What was he missing?
Our Lord does not reject the law, because it’s the standard operating procedures for the human person. The Ten Commandments are an important starting point; they are a necessary beginning. But they are not the end. Life with God is not actually, in the end, a standardized testing experience; it’s not a magic trick, or a True-False test: answer these 10 questions correctly and—voila—go straight to heaven. It’s not like that. Jesus calls us to go deeper, to the deeper truth that the Ten Commandments point to. And that truth can be expressed in many ways: No servant can serve two masters. You cannot serve both God and money. Love God with all your heart, your soul, and your strength, and your neighbor as yourself. We either serve the Lord, or we serve the things of the world.
Now, does this mean that we literally have to sell everything that we have, and live in abject poverty, in order to be a good Christian? The Church has never interpreted this gospel that way. To be sure, God does call some to that radical life, completely free of personal possessions: monks, nuns, hermits, friars, even today. But most of us are called to use the things of the world: we are called to use them, without being used by them. This brings up some important reflections for us: am I a little bit enslaved to my stuff? Do I use my television, for example, for healthy recreation and leisure, or do I have to turn it on when I get home at night. Do I use my car to get where I need to go in an efficient and comfortable way, or am I trying to prove something? Do I use technology to improve my quality of life, or can I not even get through a meal without fiddling around on my phone? The minute we start allowing ourselves to be used by our things, we start being willing to be used by people as well. And we start using them, to satisfy our own needs and desires, rather than loving them for who they are. We can rightly use the things of this world. We can enjoy the things of this world. We can rejoice in the ways that the things of this world make our lives more pleasant and productive. But we can never forget that we are destined for other shores.
In the end, when you and I get too caught up in our stuff, when we cling on to our things, when we get sad, like the man in the gospel, at the prospect of having to let go of certain material things, it’s because we just don’t trust in God’s promises quite enough. He has promised to go before us to his Father and prepare a place for us in heaven for all eternity. Do we actually believe that? If we do, then we should do everything we possibly can, starting now, to live more than anything for that. Even in the midst of our busy lives, surrounded by our cares and our responsibilities, we keep our eyes fixed on heaven, fixed on eternity, fixed on God. We use the things of the world, without being used by them. We love the people in our lives, and never ever use them.
This is pretty hard, as it turns out. Being so consistently focused on the kingdom: in such a technological, communication-rich society; with everything we have to worry about, family, job, health. But when we trust in God, when we are willing to go wherever he leads us, even when that means leaving our comfort zones: when we trust in his deep personal love for each one of us, as the Lord says, we will “receive a hundredfold now in this age, houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions, and in the age to come eternal life.” As he prepares to give us a taste of eternal life today, through a taste of his body and blood, let us ask him to guide us ever closer to his promise of eternity, by helping us to have a true and selfless love for all the people in our lives, and the grace to use the things of the world well, for our own good and the good of all.