Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store 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 your heart will be also (Matthew 6:19-21).
We’re pretty good, it seems, at storing things up…Last year we paid the US storage unit industry $30 billion so we could put our stuff into 2 billion square feet of storage floor space. There are five times more self-storage facilities in the US than there are Starbucks! Jesus, I think, has some words for us in today’s Gospel reading. The clothes that no longer fit and pieces of furniture and china from the previous generations and rusting exercise bikes and treadmills sit in their climate-controlled, dark, and silent cells, waiting for the day when they’ll finally be buried in the landfill, or, if they’re lucky, maybe given to GoodWill.
“For where your treasure is, there you heart will be also.”
We all store up in “stuff” other areas of our lives, too. Storing up a few extra pounds from eating and drinking too much. Storing up fear and anger and distrust against those on whichever side of the political dividing line is opposite ours. What is all of this storage costing us? Where is our treasure? Where are our hearts?
Typically, we talk about give up things for Lent—frequently things that are somewhat frivolous in the grand scheme of things—chocolate, coffee, French fries…If you feel the need for a Lenten fast, you could instead consider the fast we heard today from Isaiah: “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them?” This is not a fast from, but a fast for. A fast in which we imagine another world—a healed world—the Kingdom of God—and are work for its coming.
If you really are wanting to give something up this Lent, then I suggest you give up all that you’ve got in storage. On the trivial side, if you’re renting a storage unit, clean it out and give the contents away, and donate that monthly fee to a worthy cause. But much more importantly, give up the cobwebby, dark, and dank things that you’ve been keeping in storage in your life. Give up the fear and anger and distrust and animosity and bitterness. Incorporate the grief that you’ve stored up for what you’ve lost into a vow to cherish more fully the celebrations and relationships that you have in front of you each day, and the resolve to never go back to a renewed daily grind that will get in the way of connection and relationship.
My prayer for you this Lent is that you will free yourself from the heavy, ongoing cost of maintaining all that moth- and rust-prone storage. Give it all up and, in repentance and humility, start storing up instead what Jesus offers freely and abundantly: communion and community, forgiveness, love, and God’s peace that passes understanding. Start storing that up—for where your treasure is, there you heart will be also.
Blessings and Peace, Fr. Keith+
