The Carmelite saints talk a lot about the importance of detachment.

 

It is a spiritual routine that can bring all sorts of benefits to those who embrace it. Today’s news about the growth of addictions and obsessions, the absence of discipline and self-control in many people, and evidence of a huge lack of humility and balance in almost everyone tells us that most of us could only gain from some serious work on detachment. The practice of detachment comes in handy in nearly, if not all, aspects of our lives and our everyday struggles.

 

We can become overly attached to almost everything. We may give too much importance to a host of physical things — often whatever is bigger, better, status-affirming. Or we may give priority to what pleases our senses — tastier, sweeter, more robust flavors — nevermind what is actually good for us!

 

And who doesn’t readily opt for whatever is entertaining over what we suspect might be, you know, boring.

 

The Bible periodically identifies people as being “stiff-necked,” which is an uncomplimentary way to describe those who will not bend on anything that, best case, is mere human tradition or, worse, is a personal desire.

 

Our traditions are often good, unless we threaten the wellbeing of others in our quest for that one and “only” way to do it.

 

Personal desires can be downright scary. We all want what we want and much can get in the way. Sadly, there are folks who disregard logic, common sense, dialogue and the needs of others and instead use muscle, influence, manipulation, illogic and whatever else is at their disposal to forcefully get what they want. They and their desires are all that matter to them.

 

Developing a habitual practice of detachment can help us take a step or two back from a situation and catch our breath. It provides some perspective. It can help us not panic when things don’t go our way. We can look at what we want with a more critical eye and ask ourselves how important it is in the larger scheme of things.

 

None of this, of course, is automatic or easy, but with a little awareness, detachment can become a helpful habit.

 

An example might help us picture this virtue. A few weeks ago, a young man came into church and proceeded to sit right in the spot where a more-regular attendee always sits. She was right behind him — literally one step behind — but she didn’t miss a beat, just breezed by him and sat in the next pew. She let go of her preferred place and adjusted without letting it fluster her.

 

That seems beyond simple, but it is not automatic. In one of my travels when sitting down in a nearly empty cathedral, a parishioner came in and glared at me, leaving no doubt that I had sat in HER pew. An “if looks could kill” moment of unwelcome.

 

Sadly, an attachment to a particular pew is just one of many ways we can compromise our faith in God who is greater than anything on earth. Our saints mention people they knew who “had” to have the more stylish rosary or beautiful statue. Or be always recognized, acknowledged, honored at church.

Most everything about our faith can benefit from detachment. We may find ourselves grasping at what easily makes us feel holy at the cost of inconvenient options that challenge us to do the hard work of following Christ. For example, tithing, much less the greater sacrifice of stewardship, are very beneficial to faith, but not popular for most people in the pews. 

 

If we find ourselves opting for “Sunday only Catholicism” and never attend parish offerings to better educate us about our faith, well, we may want to work at detaching from our easy and comfortable pursuits. “Comfort” in general can be hugely detrimental to faith and discipleship.

 

St. John of the Cross counsels us to learn to choose good things that are difficult, less attractive, unsatisfying to help us detach from all our indulgences and make room for God. 

 

Detachment done for love of God will bring us benefits — and will help us discover His love for us.