St. Antony of the Desert and Relinquishment

When the 20 year old Antony of Coma, Egypt heart the Gospel story of the Rich Young Man who refused the advice of Jesus to sell all he had and give to the poor, he was so moved that he did just what Jesus said. He had inherited considerable wealth from his parents, but after setting up his sisters with enough to sustain themselves, he gave away the rest to the poor and retreated to the desert, where for 20 years he lived in seclusion and prayer. It was only after all this time that others, also fed up with the corruption fostered by wealth and too much leisure in the decadent years of the Roman Empire, came to him for advice and joined him in his way of life. So much so that he had to draw up a simple rule for them and thus became the "Father of Monasticism." He died at the age of 105, showing us that it is possible to live simply for a long time.
It is easy to read this story, and perhaps even understand the emptiness that these men felt when the glitter of a superabundance of material goods wore then and they experienced nothing substantial beneath, but actually to DO something about it evidently demanded grace and courage. These, the Rich Young Man lacked, and turned his back on Jesus. How about us? We might feel saddled or even imprisoned by the goods and gadgets upon which we have become dependent. We think back to our youths when we had less and were freer and happier, but can we relinquish what we have accumulated? Can we sell it off and give the proceeds to Lazarus House or give it directly to St. Martin's Thrift Store on Essex Street? I spoke with one of my Godsons last night who is in the army and about to move to Honduras for his next tour. He commenented that the little he had was too much to pack up and against his desire to live simply. He said he assumed that I lived the same way. I had to tell him that embarrassingly over the years THINGS have piled up so much that I am cluttered with books and THINGS beyond belief. I told him I've been working at eliminating the piles of paper and collectibles on the floor (happy to see the rug at last) and am soon to attack the bookcases. I'm praying while I'm doing this, so that I might have the grace and courage to part with these things that I thought I needed or that I was keeping "just in case." When I think of the simplicity of the early Marists, even the Marists of 50 years ago when I first became one, I am both ashamed and motivated to get back to the bare essentials. How about you?
Bro. Rene