The Splendor of Poverty

            I was struck by the seeming inconsistency in this Sunday’s readings. In the first reading, the prophet Malachi foretells the coming of the Lord of Hosts to His temple, “Yes, he is coming, says the Lord of Hosts. But who will endure the day of his coming? And who can stand when he appears? For he is like the refiner’s fire, or like the fuller’s lye.” One gets the sense that he’s going to appear in a ‘blaze of glory.”

                This is repeated in the Responsorial Psalm, “Lift up, O gates, your lintels; reach up, you ancient portals, that the king of glory may come in! Who is this king of glory? The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord, mighty in battle!” I don’t know what this king of glory looks like, but when he gets here, you’ll know it. He’s a king. He’s glorious. He’s powerful, with a strength so intense that we will not be able to stand in his presence.

                Then, we get the gospel.

                Jesus, a baby unable to walk, an infant unable to speak, carried into the temple by his mother and father, who had to offer the sacrifice designated for the poor. You see the rich, well, they had to offer in sacrifice at the birth of the first son a lamb or a young male calf. Since those who were very poor could not afford to purchase a lamb or a young bull, they got to offer the sacrifice of “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.” They were poor. Not just a little bit poor. The Holy Family was very poor.

                How does this make sense? Why are we set up with readings that would be more suited to, oh, say, Jesus’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem and the purification of the temple? Those readings would fit great with that event of his life. Unless, there is a splendor in poverty that we cannot see. Maybe there was something there that, without God’s presence in our life, would be invisible to us.

                It was not invisible to Simeon. Here was a man who had spent his life in the temple. Simeon was used to the presence of God. I’ve often asked myself, “How did he know?” Of all the hundreds of children that would have been brought into the temple in a month or a week, of all the thousands of children that were brought into the temple during his lifetime, how did he know that Jesus was the one? I think it was because he saw the splendor of the king, the majesty and glory of the Lord of Hosts that was invisible to everyone else, hidden within the poverty of the Holy Family. Simeon had learned to see beyond nice clothes, large animals, bands of people in an entourage. Simeon learned to recognize the true presence of the Lord of Hosts in the splendor of poverty.

                What a lesson for us today, as we seek after the next biggest house, the next nicest car, the next fanciest gadget, the next prettiest fashion. There is a beauty in poverty that we can only see when we have drawn close to the Lord. Perhaps we should think of the purity of poverty. The prophet Malachi states that the Lord who comes is like the refiner’s fire. He goes on: “He will sit refining and purifying silver, and he will purify the sons of Levi, refining them like gold or like silver that they may offer due sacrifice to the Lord.”

                I think of the words of Jesus, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” That is from Matthew’s gospel. Many people use that little phrase, “in spirit,” as a way of justifying owning many possessions. “Yes, I have all of these things, but I’m not attached to them, so I’m actually living in poverty of spirit.” Ask them to sell their $50,000 car and buy an old, beat up mini-van, and they’ll give you all kinds of reasons why they can’t do that. Not attached to it, huh? Luke doesn’t make any such provision that could be interpreted as an excuse, “Blessed are you who are poor,” Luke’s gospel says. Not poor in spirit, but poor; Jesus in Luke’s gospel wants us to lack possessions, to be poor.

                Perhaps this poverty in which we see the Holy Family is the fire that refines and purifies us. The sacrifice that is acceptable to the Lord is the foregoing of earthly possessions. Perhaps, by letting go of our earthly possessions, our desire for God is purified and strengthened. Perhaps, in ridding ourselves of earthly measures of happiness, we find pure joy, holy peace, happiness beyond our wildest dreams.

That was Jesus’s challenge to the rich young man, “Go, sell what you have and give it to the poor, and come follow me, then you will be perfect.” In that story of the rich, young man, he approaches Jesus asking what he needs to do to be saved. Jesus tells him to follow the commandments. The rich, young man wants more than that. “I’ve done these things since my youth,” he says to Jesus. “What more do I lack?” That question has echoed within me for years. He’s not really asking about what he needs to do to get to heaven. Jesus answered that question. In all his riches, he still feels like he is lacking something. He isn’t happy, and he wants to know what will make him happy. “Poverty,” Jesus says in essence, “that is what you lack; poverty that will allow you the freedom to be with me.” The rich, young man goes away very sad, because he had many possessions.

                He goes away sad, because he had many possessions.

                We are called to be purified in poverty. This is radical. No doubt about it. But the more I hang out with Jesus, the more radical I believe Jesus actually is. Spiritual poverty, I think, doesn’t so much mean that we can afford to own riches, so we do, but “aren’t attached to them.” Spiritual poverty, it seems to me, means that we can afford to own riches, but we deliberately choose not to. We satisfy ourselves with simple things that meet our basic needs, and we give the rest to the poor. Spiritual poverty is a deliberate choice to live as the poor, with the poor, and in service to the poor, because Jesus was poor.

                A practical example of this is the recent event involving our van. Last year in March, we paid more than the van was worth to get it fixed. It’s been acting up the last few weeks, and last week, there was literally a stream of fluid running from underneath it. It was coolant. We hoped for a cheap fix. Nope, the estimate put it at over $650.00. Now we had a choice. Get it fixed and continue driving this beat up, old piece of junk that has a broken automatic door. Or, finance a new vehicle. The fact is, we can afford to finance a $25,000 or $30,000 dollar vehicle. We’ve chosen not to. It’s not because we can’t afford to get a new vehicle. We are making a deliberate choice to live out the gospel Beatitude of Poverty of Spirit, offering up driving a really, REALLY nice car to the Lord, so that our desire for Him may be purified.

                People may ask whether God wants us to have nice things. Doesn’t God, who loves us and wants us to be happy, want us to have things that will make us happy? Sure. But this is what we need to understand: the happiness that God wants for us does not depend on material goods. It’s deeper than that, more eternal than that. God wants to give us everything that is good. He is a loving Father who wants to provide for us everything that we need to be happy. At the same time, he as a loving Father may be asking us to give up those things that will lead us to unhappiness. This is a guarantee: what God wants to provide for you will make you infinitely happier than any material thing you can provide for yourself.

                As in all things, there is a balance. Virtue is found in the middle. This call to radical poverty that we find in the gospel is not meant to create a situation where our needs go unmet. Jesus isn’t telling us that we should go hungry, or that we should drive our children around in an unsafe or unreliable vehicle. Jesus isn’t telling us to live in a house in which we are in danger or that doesn’t meet our needs as a family. Not meeting the needs of my family is as much a violation of Poverty of Spirit as ignoring the needs of the poor. We meet our needs (not wants) first, and use the rest in service to the Lord and His poor.

                I have felt for years, that the Lord was calling my family to live a more radical understanding of this lifestyle. Is it easy? Absolutely not. Does it create discomfort? Absolutely yes. Does it mean that we grieve when we want something big and expensive? Yep, that too. Have we lived out this radical call to true poverty of spirit perfectly? Nope. But those painful moments of living out in a “rubber hits the road” kind of way this Beatitude of Poverty of Spirit remind us that really all we need to be happy is Jesus.

All we need to be happy is Jesus, and we can let everything else go.

                As we do this, we are “purified as gold and silver.” Our hunger for heaven gets deeper. Our joy in Jesus gets more profound. Our happiness gets holier. Unlike the rich, young man, who went away sad because he had many possessions, we will be filled with happiness and joy that can only be seen by those like Simeon, who have learned to see the invisible splendor of God, the splendor that is hidden within poverty.