Take Nothing for the Journey

September 24, 2008

Wednesday of the Twenty-Fifth Week of Ordinary Time

By Melanie Rigney

Two things I ask of you, deny them not to me before I die: Put falsehood and lying far from me, give me neither poverty nor riches; provide me only with the food I need; Lest, being full, I deny you, saying, “Who is the LORD?” Or, being in want, I steal, and profane the name of my God. (Proverbs 30:8-9)

Jesus said to the Twelve: “Take nothing for the journey, neither walking stick, nor sack, nor food, nor money, and let no one take a second tunic. Whatever house you enter, stay there and leave from there. And as for those who do not welcome you, when you leave that town, shake the dust from your feet in testimony against them.” (Luke 9:3-5)

Piety
Lord, You are indeed an adventurer. Help me to become an adventurer as well, trusting fully in You to shine Your lamp unto my feet to light the journey.

Study
http://www.usccb.org/nab/092408.shtml
http://www.catholicbook.org/encuentro2000/vanthuan.htm

There’s an interesting contrast in today’s readings between the journey as Solomon desires it and as Jesus orders it.

In Proverbs, Solomon asks for just enough—not so much that he’s lulled into complacency but enough that he won’t be tempted to profane God’s name. We’ve likely all attempted to make similar offers: Give me a house, Lord; it doesn’t have to be big, just big enough. Help me through this crisis, Lord; give me just enough hope to keep going.

But in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus instructs the Twelve not to take walking sticks or sacks or food or money. They can’t even take a second tunic! It sounds so hard, so unlike Solomon’s seemingly reasonable request. Could Jesus possibly have understood what he was asking of mere mortals?

Consider what was asked of François-Xavier Cardinal Nguyễn Văn Thuận, for whom the beatification process began a year ago this month. Nguyễn Văn Thuận, nephew of South Vietnam’s first president, was the new bishop of Saigon when the city fell on April 30, 1975. He spent thirteen years in a re-education camp, nine of them in solitary confinement. It was in those years, he says, that “all the outer trappings fell away, and I met Jesus in the total transparency of the Gospel.”

After his release, Nguyễn Văn Thuận went to Vatican City. In 2000 in Los Angeles, then the prestident of the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, he spoke of learning about the “defects” of Christ while in the camp, “defects” that he grew to love. One comes from today’s Gospel, the part about taking nothing for the journey. Nguyễn Văn Thuận said in his address:

A person in charge of publicity for a company or a politician seeking election prepares a very precise program with many promises. Jesus promises only trials and persecutions to those who follow him. … In sending his disciples out on a mission, he tells them to take nothing for the journey: no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money and not to have two tunics. … In this state of absolute poverty, where did Jesus send his disciples? How far were they to go? They were to bring salvation, even to the very end of the earth (Acts 13:47). Have you ever heard of such an adventurer and his word: I am with you every day, even to the end of the world. We are truly disciples of Jesus when we follow him even to the end of the world. We are members of his association of adventurers, without address, without a telephone number, without a fax or website.

Surely, if Nguyễn Văn Thuận could love this aspect of Christ from solitary confinement, we can find a way to embrace it in the comforts of the Diocese of Arlington.

Action
Today, make a list of three ways in which you can become an adventurer for Christ, and set a timetable for doing one of them.