The rich man who comes up to Jesus asks, 'Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?' Jesus does not give a direct answer but first lists all the things that seem obvious to the rich man. He is trying to allow the man to see what he has missed, but he cannot. Jesus leaves out the very thing that would allow the rich man to more truly follow him: his wealth. Jesus says, 'You lack one thing. Go and sell all that you have and come and follow me.' The man goes away sad.
In our own lives, what is it that we hold on to? Is it our own schemes to get rich? Our side hustles? Our ego gets in the way. We create blocks in our lives that prevent us from experiencing the love of God. Greed is a sin, but we have made it the very thing we seek. Our culture of unrestricted capitalism has stopped treating greed as a sin. Everyone is doing it, so we think it is okay. Our systems have blinded us from seeing the deeper reality of what greed can bring. Pope Francis' “Laudato Si'” shows us what greed can do: unrestricted, it is destroying the earth. But of course we don't believe this, or we choose to ignore this reality out of convenience.
Mary shows us the way. She comes to Christ not with bags of money but with an open heart and with nothing but herself. By our design we too must seek a home in Nazareth like Mary. Where we prioritise family time over screen time. Where we do not take the promotion, but rather prioritise time with our loved ones. Where we choose a smaller house and are grateful for what we already have. Where we give to charity without dwelling on the financial cost. Where we actively seek out the lost and forgotten rather than asking, 'So what do I want?' Where we choose presence over productivity, trusting that time given is never time wasted. Where we make ourselves unknown and hidden in this world, content to let our good works go unseen as the first Marists desired. Where we tend the ordinary tasks of home, the washing and the cooking and the mending, as holy ground rather than obstacles to something greater. Where we say yes to the person in front of us, setting aside our plans as Mary set aside hers at the angel's word. Where we carry another's burden the extra mile without keeping count. Where we open our lives to the stranger and the lonely rather than reserving it for those who can repay us. Where we hold our tongue in the argument we could win, choosing peace in the home over the satisfaction of being right. Where we treasure and ponder the small graces of the day in our hearts, as Mary did, instead of rushing past them. Where we stand faithfully with the suffering, as Mary stood at Calvary, offering not solutions but our steady, loving presence.
In each of the Marist religious branches they take a vow of poverty. Maybe we too, as lay people, could take a vow of simplicity. Where we commit to the core value of quality time with our family. Where we commit to deepening our relationships through hospitality.
If we truly believe that each person is made in the image and likeness of God, should this not radically change how we see the other? They too are our brothers and sisters. Children of God.
Why do we allow our own riches and wealth to block us from the love of God? Do we realise that greed and gluttony do not answer the deepest questions we have? We need another way of knowing and another way of seeing. This is not just taught with our minds but rather caught. Like taking a group of students thrift shopping to buy second-hand clothing. Where we choose not to go to the big shopping mall but to spend a day bushwalking, or sitting on the beach. Where we go to church on Sunday, giving some time to God instead of sleeping in. Where we pray, even though it may feel dry and boring.
This spirit of change requires us to step out of our comfort zones, to not let our right hand know what our left hand is doing. This change does not make sense to the rational mind. The spirit of God is stirring within us. To step out of our comfort zones challenges us to let go of our egos and thought patterns and allow the heart and the body to seek something that is hidden. God is hidden in the simplicity and poverty which we embrace. We need to make a decision to open this door and let the fresh air in.
Journal and reflect on the following
- Jesus told the rich man he lacked one thing, and it was the very thing he clung to most. What is the 'one thing' in your own life that you sense God may be asking you to loosen your grip on, and what makes it hard to let go?
- Is Greed a sin? Our culture has quietly stopped naming it. Where do you notice this in your own daily choices, where 'everyone is doing it' has made something feel normal that once might have troubled your conscience?
- Mary comes to Christ with nothing but herself and an open heart. If you arrived before God this week empty-handed, without your achievements, plans, or possessions to offer, what would you discover about who you are underneath them?
- Some things are not taught but 'caught,' like taking students thrift shopping or spending a day in nature rather than at the mall. What is one small, concrete practice you could take up that would let your family or community catch the spirit of simplicity rather than simply be told about it?
- God is hidden in the simplicity and poverty we embrace, and that opening this door lets fresh air in. What comfort zone is God gently inviting you to step out of, and what might you need to trust in order to take that first step?
Pause and listen to the song “Cornerstone”
Please pray the following prayer
Loving God,
you who chose a hidden home in Nazareth and a mother who came to you with nothing but an open heart, teach us to loosen our grip on all that we clutch so tightly. We confess how easily we have made wealth and comfort the answer to our deepest longings, how readily we have called greed normal and looked away from what it costs the poor and the earth you entrusted to us. Like the rich man who went away sad, we too sense there is one thing we are holding on to. Give us the courage to name it, and the grace to let it fall from our hands, that we might follow you more freely and discover that we were never truly the poorer for it.
Draw us, Lord, into the way of Mary: her quiet yes, her steady presence at Cana and at Calvary, her treasuring of small graces in a pondering heart. Help us to choose presence over productivity, the family table over the endless climb, the forgotten person before us over the schemes we cherish. Where the world urges us to grasp, teach us to give. Where it tells us to be seen, let us be content to remain hidden and unknown, doing our small works of love in secret. Open the door of our hearts and let your fresh air in, that in the simplicity and poverty we embrace, we might at last find you waiting there. Amen.
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