There was an inner urging in the man who �ran up� just �as Jesus was setting out on a journey.�  He could not wait until the next time Jesus would pass by.  He seems to have been a genuinely good person, who had learned the basics well, but who in his heart felt drawn to what St. John of the Cross calls a certain �I don�t know what.�  This puzzled him, precisely because he had always observed the basics.  Much to his surprise Jesus challenges him to think �outside the box.�

�The box� provides us with a reassuring comfort zone.  We like knowing what the rules are, because then we can put a check mark next to each one of them and give ourselves a pat on the back.  It is the smug satisfaction of the Pharisee at prayer in the temple, who recites selectively some of the rules and check-marks them one by one and then declares himself righteous.  Was the man in today�s gospel reading expecting to hear from Jesus �you have arrived?�

Instead Jesus invites him to stretch his heart beyond the basics of rules and prescriptions.  Rules give only a minimum: a floor, not a ceiling.  Sidelines and rules serve as the minimum of many a sport, but no one wins a game by just staying inbounds and avoiding penalties.  Jesus sensed that the man�s heart was looking for a win, for something more, and Jesus liked that �we are told that �Jesus looking at him loved him.�  But then Jesus told him something the man was not prepared to hear: you must make yourself vulnerable to God�s invitation beyond rules and minima �you cannot ask God to come where you are and meet you there.  God must be allowed to remain Lord of the encounter.  God�s call to Abraham was both an invitation and a challenge to walk in God�s presence: open-ended, no maps, no announced destination.

That is a threatening proposition for us, who suffer from what I like to call the AAA (or Mapquest) syndrome.  We feel we need an identifiable destination and a highlighted route to get there.  Can we allow ourselves to be drawn to an �I don�t know what� or, for that matter, �I don�t know whither?�  Or will we, too, go away sad, because our lives are already heavily invested in ways that do not leave room for that much freedom and trust?