Reflection for the Fifteenth Sunday In Ordinary Time

Have you ever flown? Whenever there’s a need for me to fly, I begin packing two days before take-off. I find the smallest bag available so it fits under the seat. I use the most discreet carry-on bag for essentials–prayer book, Bible, phone charger, toothbrush.  Even with my beloved vow of poverty, I see there are still a number of items on my must-bring list. Make two copies of the boarding pass, in case I lose one. Empty my pockets into a plastic bag before I get to the security line. Chances are the alarm will go off no matter how careful I am, because of a stray penny or a forgotten battery, and the TSA people will be embarrassed if they have to wand me.  I think I must have a gangster’s face because I’m often pulled out of line before I even get to the screening box. All for the sake of security, they say. Better safe than sorry, I tell myself.

There is one good thing, though: I’m old enough that I don’t have to take off my shoes. I guess that’s good….

Traveling used to be fun but not so much anymore. Once on my way to Rome I got ‘busted’ because I packed that jellied meat in a blue can in my carry-on. I thought they probably wouldn’t have it in Italy, and, after all, I was slated to cook breakfasts at the House of Studies where I would be staying (I hope they have air conditioning). At least that was my excuse. (Actually, I really, really like it, so I just stuck it in for a midnight snack.) But I had to leave it behind. You can never be too sure about those cans, they told me. I should never have packed it, I told myself. My conscience got the better of me, finally, and now I see what today’s Gospel is about.

I’m writing all this, Jesus, because today’s Gospel is about Your word to the disciples when You sent them out to spread the Gospel–their first mission trip. You told them to pack very, very lightly: no food (!), no carry-on. No money in their belts. They could wear sandals and carry a walking stick, but no second tunic. Trust in the kindness of strangers. And if they aren’t kind, just move on to another town. I’m struck by the simplicity of your plan, Jesus.  It’s the Message that’s important, You said.  Don’t worry about being comfortable or well equipped. Just go, and you will cast out demons and heal the sick. And so they did. Without plan, and without complaint.

And I, Lord? Two boarding passes, just in case? My Oral B front and center in my personal bag, so I don’t lose it? My favorite snack? What about evangelizing on the plane or along the road?  Where is my sense of sacrifice? What about having placed my life at the service of the Gospel, 55 years ago? And as for sleep? You had no place to lay your head, You said.

How quickly I lose my way, Jesus. How often I pray the Surrender Novena, but then I take it back, thread by thread, till there’s no more surrender, no willingness to lay down my life for You. How did that happen, Jesus? I didn’t see it coming. You want me to think about that today, this hot July day in New England, so that the next time I fly–no, the next time I want to soar to You in love–I can be free to let go.

But I know myself. I have to think about it purposefully.  I have to pray for inner freedom. I need to get my priorities straight. I don’t want to worry about the destination, or to manipulate my life so there’s no room for sacrifice for the sake of the Kingdom. I’m tired of me. All I want is You, Jesus, at whatever cost. There’s a whole world out there waiting to see Your Face, to hear Your voice, to be enfolded in Your embrace of Mercy.

So next time, I think I won’t bring a carry-on at all. No snack. No good bristles to show off my smile, no second tunic, no money. You are my Enough, my Lord. And my Security. Please show me the right gate, the seat you’ve been saving for me, even if it is in the exit row. Wherever You send me, I will be able to fly, straight to Your Heart. No stepping aside to get patted down: all I need to do is follow You. You know the Way, and I am in love with You. Amen.