Two Square Yards

"It won't fit into two square yards."

Perhaps that statement was on the mind of Saint Cyprian as he wrote about those who would store up treasure in "earthly" riches:

"Their property held them in chains...chains which shackled their courage and choked their faith and hampered their judgment and throttled their souls...If they stored up treasure in heaven, they would not now have an enemy and a thief within their household...They think of themselves as owners, whereas it is they who are owned: enslaved as they are to their own property, they are not the masters of their money but its slaves."

And all the while this great third-century bishop and saint pondered the "way" in which we pilgrims should fashion our journey toward eternity, the words spoken by Jesus in St. Matthew's Gospel (6:19-21) must surely have been ringing in his head:

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

For in these two verses, Jesus pours not just words upon us- but true wisdom. In a sense, if we humans had the capacity to receive just two verses from sacred scripture, these would likely guide us to, as Bishop Sheen often remarked, a "life worth living." And while giving us this wisdom, Jesus not only encourages the embrace of a lifestyle that will ensure a richness to our life, but also one that will make us the recipient of treasure that will not break, tarnish, or fade away. His encouragement brushes us down a path whereby our riches will not be measured by what we accumulate; but rather, based upon how much we give away- especially of ourselves. To borrow from the jargon of economists, our success in life relies more upon exports than imports.

Over three years ago, on a crisp and sunny October afternoon, I received a phone call that my grandmother had died. For me, it has always been the case that when someone passes, images of them flow softly across my memory. With "grandma," it was an image of a person who had both sacrificed and suffered a great deal. The mother of a dozen children (and forty plus grandchildren- with me being the oldest), in her early twenties, she had walked through the sudden and tragic death of her first husband; and, with two small children, was forced to re-create a life as a widowed mother.  A few years later, with God's grace, she would once again fall in love, marry, and open herself to ten more children. Throughout her life, and I am afraid, on occasions too infrequent, her oldest grandson would ask her the "secret to life." While already knowing her answer, I nevertheless found solace in hearing her proclaim the secret: her love of and trust in- Jesus Christ.

Following my grandmother's funeral Mass, I began the ten-hour drive home from Michigan's Keweenaw Peninsula to Detroit and was provided the grace of silence in which to contemplate her life amidst the burning October leaves that had taken center stage across Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Amidst nature's glory, the memories of grandma began to flow once more. Throughout our shared life, my grandmother would sometimes give me small gifts or send me money on special occasions. But interestingly, these were not the events that I remembered. Rather, my recollections were of our time together and simple sharing: Saturday morning pancake breakfasts, gatherings at the lake, picking strawberries, or chats over coffee and homemade pie- where we would recall our stories of faith. And with each goodbye came the firmest of hugs and some of the most generous expressions of I love you. After each of them, given the vast miles that separated us, I always wondered whether that moment would be our last.

At the cemetery, as the priest prayed the final blessings, I remember grandma's casket being lowered softly and slowly into it's final resting place. Although her human life had come to an end, her eternal life was just beginning. And while not leaving behind million-dollar investment portfolios and vacation homes for distribution to the living, she did leave something far more valuable: the gift and memories of herself; something eternal and not easily contained within the confines of two square yards.