Loving A Hidden God
FREEDOM FROM THINGS
I have often observed through personal experience that avarice increases as sexual lust declines.
The Good of Widowhood, 20.26
Despite what Augustine said about sexual desire continuing to be a danger throughout life, I do believe that for must of us it does lessen with age. The spirit may still be willing but the flesh becomes weak. Thus, our effort to be "free of our body" seems to be aided by our body's gradual decline. We don't so much free ourselves of the body as the body frees itself of us by falling asleep.
It is not so with our things. They stay with us as long as we want them. There is nothing unnatural our wanting to have things. As long as we live on earth we must have food to eat, water to drink, shelter from the changing weather. Our desire for things is caused not by or "cracks" but by our humanity. Our craving for things, making the accumulation of things our primary goal in life, this inordinate passion for possession is caused by our being "cracked". To take care of our bodily needs by the use of things is a virtue; to greedily grasp, to want more and more of them, indeed, to want all of them is a vice, the vice of avarice.
Augustine believed that avarice included any wanting too much of any good, be it material or spiritual. (Commentary on the First Epistle of John, 8.6) We are avaricious if we want more and more fame, if we want more love than we deserve, if we want more and more knowledge so that we can look down on the ignorant masses: that is, everybody else. (Sermon 107, 8 & 10) In its narrower and more common meaning, the term "avarice" refers to the excessive passion for more and more things, for money and the things that money can buy. It is one of the most destructive vices, not because of the amount of things one actually possesses, but because of the immoderate yearning for things. As Augustine noted, there is no advantage in standing before God with nothing in your hands if your heart is consumed with the desire for everything. (Commentary on Psalm 51, 14) The evil of avarice lies in the inordinate desire to be rich, not from actually being rich. (Sermon 85, 6)
Such hunger for "things" can take over a human life. You begin with an innocent desire for a "something" and end with a lust to have "everything". You begin by wanting a little piece of land and end grasping for everything on earth. (Commentary on Psalm 39, 7) It is like a person with an unquenchable thirst. As Augustine says:
Avarice is insatiable. A person owns this farm but he wants to get possession of another farm that he does not own. Wanting to become even more rich he is ablaze with desire. Like someone who suffers the raging thirst of dropsy, the more he drinks the thirstier he gets. The avaricious have dropsy of the heart. When you have dropsy in your body, it becomes filled with fluid. It is endangered by all the fluid it has but it never seems to get enough. This is exactly what happens when you are avaricious. The more you have, the more you seem to need. When you had less, you wanted less. You could enjoy your life with fewer things and you were thrilled by the small sums of money you had. By being filled up, you have become stretched by your affluence to the point of obesity but still you go on drinking and being thirsty for more and more.
Sermon 177, 6.
When people sacrifice love of God for love of themselves and then feed that self-centered love by greedily grasping earthly things, they lose not only God but even themselves. They are like children in a fun-house, looking at their reflection in a magnifying mirror that makes them seem bigger and more impressive than they really are. Happily blinded by their reflection in the things that they own and the purchased honors and love they enjoy, the avaricious live in a false world where they seem to be the biggest and most important thing in existence.
In our passion to accumulate more and more external goods, we imitate the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:17-19), choosing our "things" over the love of our Father. As Augustine says, in such a condition ...
Love of money has caused you to destroy yourself. You tell lies on account of money. While looking for money you have destroyed your soul. You now value "things" more than yourself.
Sermon 330
In the story of the Prodigal Son, the young boy stopped his flight from his father only when his money ran out. In a way, it was his saving grace that he was more interested in "having a good time" than in hoarding his wealth. He was infected with extravagance more than miserliness. Of course both the spendthrift and the miser are driven by an inordinate obsession with wealth but the two expressions of the obsession are quite different. The wastrel wants more and more so that he can spend more and more. The miser wants more and more so that he can possess more and more. (Sermon 86, 6)
Forced to choose between these illnesses, being a spendthrift seems to be less deadly. When the money runs out, the spendthrift has a chance of coming to his senses as the world that had been so captivated by his spending rushes off to find another foolishly generous patron. This is what happened to the Prodigal Son. He had lived the high life but, when the money disappeared he was reduced to feeding pigs. (Sermon 330, 3) Free now from his possessions and (more importantly) the desire for possessions, the boy was able to return to his father. As long as the money lasted, he was unable to even think about his father. The lesson to be taken from the story is obvious:
God justly reproaches all those souls who go away from him by choosing wealth in place of him. God says, "You thought, if you withdrew from me, you would have more". (Isaiah, 57:8) You discovered that, like the Prodigal Son, you have ended up feeding pigs. You have lost all things. You came back to yourself and your Father only when you got tired of being in want.
Sermon 177, 10
It is hard to develop a "freedom from things" when we are still enjoying them. Immersed in the good times of our lives, the pleasure of our possessions can take over our lives. But, sooner or later we come to realize that possessing things is not an unmixed blessing. It is because of disputes over things that this life is so filled with "lawsuits, hatreds, discords, wars, disagreements, riots, and murders." (Commentary on Psalm 131, 5) Augustine spoke with the weary voice of experience when he advised his friends:
When someone sues you to take your coat, you should prefer to lose the coat so that you can save your time to give to God. If you go to court you will lose your peace of mind. You will become upset. How much better to lose your thing and save your time.
Sermon 167, 3
It is really not sensible to try to hold onto our things too tightly. Despite all our efforts, our wealth will eventually be no more, or at least will no more be ours. Augustine considered it appropriate that money should be minted as round coins since they so easily roll away. (Commentary on Psalm 83, 3) Our claim on our things, however strong it may be now, will eventually perish when we die. (Sermon 335c, 7; Sermon 299F, 5; Sermon 38, 6) Perhaps a person will try to avoid this by devising a plan like the following, saying to themselves:
Well, rather than lose my money I will take it and buy a country house. There I will be buried and I will continue to possess it.
Augustine responds:
If you are buried there, your property will then have you; you will not have it.
Sermon 335c, 8
As we get older and sicker most likely detachment from our things will be forced upon us. In our waning years, we may face our ultimate trial: giving up our cherished "place", those rooms where we have lived for many years, the place which we have established as that secure place where we can spend the rest of our days undisturbed by the swirling world outside.
Such detachment from one's place is difficult at any age, but it is especially hard when you are old, when you are tired of change, when you have little else to depend on beyond the comfortable home you have built for yourself over a lifetime, that place where you can find everything, where you have the mementoes of events and dear people of the past. It is hard enough to lose the albums that hold the memories of the past; it is even harder to lose the place that is your comfort zone in the present. You have spent years building a lovely place for your quiet retirement and suddenly you are forced to move into an entirely new and frightening place, perhaps a nursing home or some other facility for those who have lost their own "place" in this world.
It is sad to be homeless in this life or in the next, to be a wanderer in a land that was never meant for you. The agony of hell is to know that you are not "at home" and never will be. The pain of being homeless in this life is to know that you have no home to go to and others do not care.
This freedom from "things" even the place that I call home is a necessary step in the process of purification. And it is sensible to have such detachment. In this life the only "place" that I will have till the end of time and then into eternity is in the depths of my own soul, that secret place where I determine my abode in eternity. Augustine frequently reminded his friends that there is no "lasting city" anywhere this side of death. Every house we dwell in here is at best an Inn for Travelers.(Commentary on Psalm 34, 6) No place here can ever be a permanent home. My place in this world, like myself, is rushing towards eventual dissolution. I will someday die and the precious place that now I so enjoy will someday be reduced to rubble.
There is no question that freeing ourself of our comforting "things" is difficult. It is frightening to fly, to gaze into the "not yet" or "what possibly might be". It is a fearsome thing to look to an unexperienced heaven when we have yet to understand our experienced earth. It is a task for the gods, but that is precisely what we are called to be. We are called by the Lord to become like God. But we cannot be filled with God if our hearts are filled with the desire for things. (Sermon 177, 4; The Trinity, 12.11.16.)
But it is hard to free ourselves of our things! They seem to be the only way in which we can preserve our life, the only claim we have on being important, the only way in which we can get others to love us, or (at very least) the only way we can keep from getting bored. We think, "only through my things can I be truly free!" And so we surround ourselves with our things and say to ourselves:
... now I am safe! I shall be secure forever!
... now I am important! See how many things I have! I am indeed a great success!
... now I will be loved! I can buy the love of others! I will give them whatever "thing" they want and they will come to love me.
... now I can have fun! Never again will I be bored! If life grows dull I can buy some new toy to amuse me!
... now I will finally be free! My wealth gives me the power to do anything I like! Those who bend to my will I will make my slaves; those who oppose me I will crush!
How foolish are such dreams! No matter what we possess now, someday our life will end and all our "things" will be left behind for others to haggle over. Whatever good things a we may enjoy in this world, be it health or money or honor or indeed even love from fellow humans, all of these passing things are just smoke and wind. As the old Augustine reminded the people in his church, all that we carry with us through time and into eternity is a good conscience. The only truly valuable thing that we can leave behind is a good reputation. (Sermon 355, 1)
All things of this world rush down the river of time towards the dark sea of oblivion. To attach ourselves to them too firmly condemns us to the same fate: an eternity in the darkness of separation from God. (Commentary on the Gospel of John, 10.6.2) The only "thing" that we truly possess is the power (with the help of God's grace) to live a decent life and leave behind good memories. Augustine's final word about how we should deal with all other "things" makes good sense;
Use this world! Don't let it enslave you! You are on a journey and you are here only for a time. You are destined to "pass through", not stay forever. You are in an Inn for Travelers. Use your "things" as a traveler in a wayside lodge uses the table, cup, pitcher, and couch. Use them but as items that must be left behind.
Commentary on the Gospel of John, 40.10.2