During my college years, I commuted to my suburban campus outside Philadelphia via the often-frustrating mass transit system, which required me at one point of the journey to move from light rail (trolley) to the train. Most days it was a mad dash through the bus terminal to make the transfer on time.
By my junior year – keep in mind this was the early ‘90s – SEPTA had just instituted a new passenger-payment system which required the rider to pass a flimsy fare card through some automated device that would allow a turnstile to unlock while simultaneously opening a gate to the train platform. It was easier, quite frankly, to escape from prison.
On rainy Monday morning, after having run what seemed like a mile to make it from trolley to train, I got caught in the turnstile. Literally jammed between the titanium rods of the fare device and the gate that would not open.
Passengers – also late – were now lining up behind me, none too happy. I couldn’t move. I remember wanting to cry-out for help, but the embarrassment and absurdity of it all left me paralyzed in fear and shame.
Then, as if Hollywood itself scripted the scene, from beyond the gate came a transit employee, clad in navy blue and no-nonsense: “Sugar, let it go. LET IT GO.”
I looked at her dumbfounded. She noticed.
“Here, hon, give it to me.” And without another word, she helped take from my back the over-packed school bag which, unbeknownst to me, jammed up the fare-system and kept me paralyzed in place.
I had to let something go in order to be set-free.
I love today’s Gospel for many reasons, but two stand-out in a special way: the earnest search of the young man for Truth and Mercy; and the image of the camel and needle’s eye.
Jesus was such an incredible teacher, making sure he captured the minds and hearts of his listeners who were themselves like the young man seeking answers to life’s biggest mysteries. His listeners – which include us – desire (most times) to live lives of virtue; we do want to find the Kingdom, even if we don’t always consciously seek it in our daily lives; we know the Commandments of God and do our best to live them.
“Teacher, I have observed all these from my youth,” we cry out. And yet, let’s face it: we still get stuck. Trapped in the turnstile of our own making.
And so, the challenge that Christ offers us – coming to rescue us like a no-nonsense SEPTA employee: “Let it go. Give it to me.”
What’s in your backpack?
So many of us, myself included, walk through life with a backpack filled with stuff that keeps us from moving forward. For you, it may be a past hurt that you can’t forgive. For me, it might be a selfish or sinful act that I am unwilling to turn-over. Maybe desires to be popular or wealthy keep us trapped in the turnstile. What is it that you need to let go of?
The challenge, then: take time in the week ahead to pray about what fills your backpack? What is preventing you and me from living in Godly-freedom?
As a priest, I must admit that I am always so humbled by the persons who come before me in the Sacrament of Reconciliation to ask Christ to take the schoolbag. What courage it takes to allow the sin and brokenness and hurts to be taken and transformed by God, always out of love and mercy.
Not long ago, I met a young man who has struggled for years with a host of demons: pornography, drug abuse, using women, theft, abortion, and abandonment of his living children. When he walked into church that afternoon, it was clear that he had hit bottom. With head in hands, he sobbed: “I used to love God so much when I was a boy. What happened to me?” For a long time, I sat beside him as Christ would and let him release his pain, hurt, fear, and sin.
He began to release the backpack and unlock the turnstile. But not quite. For as we know, the presence of Christ in the Sacraments are not a magic pill: one and done. That’s not how the Lord works, at least for most of us. Instead, it’s really a life’s journey of passing through the eye of the needle.
Again, this powerful image: as Jesus spoke to the young man and the crowd that day in Galilee, he used a symbol that was familiar to all whose hearts were open to the call – the camel and the needle. Many Scripture scholars believe that there was in Jesus’ day a gate leading into Jerusalem city that was actually called “The Eye of the Needle,” and each time a camel carrying its wares wanted to pass through it, it had to be unburdened of its pack by its owner and led through sideways.”
Completely emptied and turned.
On the journey to the Kingdom of God, so must we be. It really the heart of who we are to become as we let Christ take our backpacks, turn the turnstile and set us free. There’s no other way. Truly. Let no one tell you otherwise or sell you an easier highway. It’s about being emptied and forgiven. Unburdened and turned around.
I can laugh now at the predicament I found myself in nearly 30 years ago at a nondescript suburban transit station, but one image remains with me from that time that I will never forget this side of heaven.
After having given the SEPTA employee my pack, I was still not freed from the turnstile. She laughed, but not in an unkind way as she threw my bag behind her. “Hon, put your arms out and turn yourself. Squeeze through.”
Obediently, I did just that … and for a brief moment, it looked as if I were crucified, my arms outstretched as I made my way to where she was standing, waiting for me. Herein, then, lies the other piece of earnestly seeking the Kingdom of God, if we truly want it: we can’t make it Home – or through life – without being willing to carry our Cross, whatever it may be. Allow that Cross to make your love authentic. Allow your Cross to transform you into another Christ. It’s the only way.
Perhaps in the end, the Christian life should look a lot like I did that morning in the middle of a rush-hour transit terminal, arms outstretched as the SEPTA lady hugged me and said as she smiled:
“Honey, you gotta stop carrying such a heavy backpack. We can’t go through this again, can we?”