Praise be to Jesus Christ, now and forever. Amen.
Come, Holy Spirit, come.
“Vanity of vanities,” cries Qoheleth. “All things are vanity.”
This isn’t just poetic lament—it’s prophetic truth.
Beneath our striving and accumulating lies a deeper ache:
The ache of pride.
Pride, as C.S. Lewis reminds us, is the anti-God posture.
It’s the quiet rebellion that places self at the center.
And in our world, pride often wears a respectable face—
Self-reliance, independence, even justified frustration.
It whispers:
You are enough on your own. Secure your future. Protect your image.
But this isn’t strength—it’s spiritual poverty.
The illusion of control that crumbles when life demands what we cannot give.
I want to speak gently, but honestly.
Our Church is behind on our Catholic Service Appeal pledge.
And I’ve heard the comments:
“I don’t give. I don't see what the Diocese does for us.”
These feelings are real and deserve compassion.
But could pride be quietly shaping our response?
Not the boastful kind—
But the kind that resists surrender and says, “I’ll decide what matters.”
And with it come subtle companions:
- Envy: sadness when others seem to
have more
- Wrath: the sting of wounded pride
- Greed: reluctance to share what
God has entrusted
- Sloth: weariness that dulls
mission
- Gluttony and Lust: restless
hunger for control and comfort
These aren’t accusations.
They’re invitations.
To examine our hearts and ask:
Where is my treasure? What am I clinging to? What might God be asking me to
release?
This week’s readings call us back—not with condemnation, but with
invitation.
Saint Paul urges: “Seek what is above.”
This is not moralism—it’s metanoia.
A turning. A surrender.
A reorientation of the heart toward God.
The Psalm pleads:
“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain wisdom of heart.”
This is the wisdom of humility—
To see our limits not as failure, but as sacred space for mercy.
To ask not for success, but for alignment.
“Prosper the work of our hands”—not for our glory, but for Yours, O Lord.
And then the Gospel:
A man builds bigger barns, stores his wealth, and says,
“Now I can rest, eat, drink, and be merry.”
But God interrupts:
“You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you.”
The tragedy isn’t his wealth—it’s his isolation.
His self-sufficiency. His blindness to grace.
To be “rich toward God” is to live in holy poverty.
To recognize that everything is gift.
And that the only treasure worth storing is love—
Received, shared, and surrendered.
So I ask you, gently:
Where are you storing your treasure?
What are you clinging to?
What might God be asking you to release?
Let’s not just examine our actions—
Let’s examine our attachments.
Let’s ask for the grace to be free.
Free to follow Christ.
Free to love.
Free to give.
Be good. Be holy.
And preach the Gospel by the way you live your lives.
Praise God. Praise be to Jesus Christ. Amen.
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