10th Sunday of the Year A

I've got a bit of a psychological block with the Inland Revenue, and by extension, auditors, accountants, bankers, financial consultants, salesmen, estate agents, debt collectors and ... just about anyone whose lives revolve around money. I'm no hippy anarchist (a girl's got to have shoes sometimes ... and champagne) but the Mammon culture is one big yawnfest to me. I'd rather stick a pencil in my eye than have dinner with a man droning on about money. (Believe me, I've been there.) My teeth go into grind mode when I get accosted by those fluorescent-jacketed street-corner fundraisers who open their arms at you like democracy activists stopping tanks at Tianamen Square. They grin at you and say overfamiliar things like "C'mon, baby, talk to me!" Excuse me but did I miss the beginning of our friendship? Once one of these grinners shouted at me triumphantly: "I've found you!" I shot back: "You just lost me".

I haven't forgotten the utterly crushed look on that kid's face. I'm also thinking about that arms-wide-open crucifixion pose. Those money-collectors are saying give me your money, but they're also saying "hug me". I'm not sure I'd want to go that far, let's not get too Californian encounter group, however... a polite no and a smile won't hurt. A metaphorical hug. A recognition of the person's humanity. That's the hard part : giving to strangers, or those who do things one doesn't like (same thing). Once x becomes a block, it gets harder to see the human being. I said "lives [that] revolve around money" but you could say that about beggars, the homeless, the poor. Everyone needs hugs. Especially those who don't get hugged much.

God hugs us in Communion.