After I had an interesting conversation with a Buddhist monk last week, I came upon a vignette about Buddhism in a recent issue of Christian Century.  A Zen Buddhist master was asked if he had ever read the Bible.  When the master indicated that he had not, the questioner began to read it to him.  As the reader got into the Sermon the Mount (Matthew 6), Jesus' words about possessions caught his attention.  These words, toward the end of the chapter, go, "And why do you worry about clothing?  Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these . . . so do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself.  Each day has enough troubles of its own" (Matthew 6:28-34).
     So the Century's account goes that after the master heard these words, he said, "I would say that the man who spoke these words is enlightened."  The master's remarks affirms and underscores the necessity of privation--giving up--for a meaningful religious experience.  Although Buddhism and Christianity are very far apart on basic questions of existence and God, they both realize that unless we let go of the things in this life and hold them, as I said earlier this week, loosely, we will never be happy.  If religion is a matter of faith, we will not necessarily find its core by living as we always have done.
     In Luke 12, Jesus tells a story of a certain rich man who, having produced a great deal of grain, resolved to store it in massive bins to fund what he believed would be a very long retirement.  Well, the parable continues, that very night the man died.  He would never enjoy the fruits of his labor.  So does Jesus conclude that, "What if a man gains the whole world and loses his soul?"
     In the end, it will not matter how much we have accumulated, for possessions will never liberate us from the angst and fleetingness of existence.  What will matter is how much we have given up, in trust, to find that which the world will never produce:  peace of soul.  It's a journey of faith.