The associated reading for this reflection can be found in your Every Sacred Sunday Mass journal or online here.
At my old parish our beloved priest, Father Bill, used a visual in his homilies that has always stuck with me. He held his hand out, palm facing up, and talked about holding onto the things that God gives us lightly, with an open hand. He would then clench his fist to illustrate how when we white-knuckle and grasp too tightly to things, we end up disfiguring them; they become unrecognizable from the good thing God gave us.
In today’s Gospel from Saint Luke, we hear a powerful yet possibly hard to receive message.
“Sell your belongings and give alms. Provide money bags for yourselves that do not wear out, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven that no thief can reach nor moth destroy. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.”
Where does our treasure lie?
There is a constant battle for our souls, and the danger is in how easily we can become distracted and forget this. Simply open up any social media app and you are immediately met with an ad. The images are everywhere, as subtle as they are obvious, yet the message is the same, “You do not have enough. You need more. Your life would be better with just this ONE thing.”
Certainly this applies to material possessions, but it also applies to matters of the heart—our desires and the blessings we have been given. Where are we storing up our treasure? Comparison is truly a thief, and it can be so easy to get caught up in comparing our timelines to others, whether it be in marriage, having kids, a new job, or financial status. I think of Father Bill and his homily with the open hand; what am I grasping onto, and what can I let go of?
Our Father is a God of abundance, and He has good plans for us. But there is a constant, loud and unending hunger that can be worldly and dangerous. The refrain is this: never enough. It is necessary to remind ourselves of this truth: we have everything we need in
God. Sometimes less is more, and when we let go of what we have been clinging to so tightly, we are able to make more space for Him.
Lord, may I see all the good you have already given me, and receive it with gratitude and peace.
Katherine Cimorelli Straneva is a writer and musician of over 15 years in the internationally acclaimed band, Cimorelli. She lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her husband, Max, and their three young sons.
