Reflection for August 3, 2025

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Ecclesiastes 1:2; 2:21-23 | Psalm 90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14 and 17 | Colossians 3:1-5, 9-11 | Luke 12:13-21

​Greed crowds our hearts and leaves no space for Jesus to live within us. God can truly make His home in us only when we are poor in spirit—willing to let go, empty ourselves, and detach from whatever keeps Him from filling us with His love. This Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, let’s reflect together on how living simply opens the door for God to dwell in our hearts.

​So there’s this dog, right? He’s happily trotting across a bridge with a nice, juicy bone in his mouth—living his best life. Then he glances down into the water and spots… another dog with an even tastier-looking bone. Plot twist: it’s just his reflection, but he doesn’t know that. Now, being a greedy little fluffball, he thinks, “Two bones are better than one!” So he growls at the “other dog” and—genius move—drops his own bone so he can snatch the other one. Of course, the “other dog” vanishes instantly, because, well… it was him the whole time. And his bone? Plop. Gone. Sinking into the river. Moral of the story? Sometimes trying to grab more just makes you lose what you already had—also, don’t argue with your own reflection.

The wise voice in today’s first reading gently reminds us that life loses its true meaning when our hearts cling to possessions. We can spend years chasing wealth and gathering things, only to leave them behind when our time on earth is done. All these treasures—gadgets, cars, houses—are like a puff of smoke, gone before we know it. Even the happiness they promise often slips through our fingers. What really lasts is not what we store in our closets or banks, but the love we give, the kindness we show, and the trust we place in God. St. Teresa of Ávila lived this truth with grace. Though she was born into comfort, she chose a life of poverty and simplicity so her soul could be free for God. She reminds us: “Let nothing disturb you… all things are passing; God alone is enough.” In living simply, we discover the only treasure that never fades—God dwelling in our hearts.

At the launch of Mass of the Theotokos last May, a friend asked me why I choose to write songs for the Holy Mass when I “get nothing out of it.” She said if I wrote catchy jingles or pop hits, I could make more money than all my “church songs” combined. I smiled and told her, “Maybe so. But through the prayers, the songs, the silence, and the honest conversations about faith and life, I feel rich in every way. I already have everything I truly need. And I have one thing those hitmakers may never have.” She raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” I said, “Enough.” Because when you have enough, you have peace, joy, and the freedom to never forget the One who gave it all. And that, my friend, is worth more than any chart-topping song.

In today’s reading, St. Paul urges us to lift our gaze from the fleeting treasures of earth to the lasting riches of heaven. Greed and the restless chase for more leave little room for Christ, with whom we have been raised to new life. Earthly pursuits often revolve around self—self-pleasure, self-gain, self-worship—while heavenly pursuits draw us into the service of God and others. St. John of the Cross reminds us that the heart can only be filled with God when it is emptied of lesser loves. He teaches: "To reach satisfaction in all, desire satisfaction in nothing. To come to possess all, desire the possession of nothing. To arrive at being all, desire to be nothing. To come to the knowledge of all, desire the knowledge of nothing." Detachment is not about losing joy, but finding the deeper joy that comes from belonging entirely to God. When we let go of what passes away, our hands and hearts are finally free to hold on to the One who never fades. In seeking the things above, we find our true treasure—Christ Himself.

There was this guy, Miguel, who made loads of money but was tighter than a lid on a pickle jar. Wouldn’t spend a cent—not on himself, not on anyone else. When he was on his deathbed, he called his wife, Ramona, over and said, “Honey, promise me something. When I die, I want you to put all my money in the casket with me so I can take it with me.” Shockingly, Ramona said, “Sure, Miguel. Whatever you want.” Miguel eventually passed, and at the funeral, Ramona walked up to the casket and slipped something inside. Her friend, curious and horrified, whispered, “Ramona! Did you actually put all that money in there?” Ramona nodded. “Of course. I made him a promise. A promise is a promise.” Her friend gasped. “But how will you live?” Ramona grinned. “Oh, I’ll be fine… unless Miguel somehow figures out how to cash a check in heaven!”

Today’s Gospel makes more sense when we remember the law from Deuteronomy 21:17: the elder son was entitled to twice the inheritance of the younger. That’s why the younger man came to Jesus—he felt cheated because his brother received more. But Jesus did not step in to settle the legal matter; instead, He went straight to the deeper issue: greed. Greed is wanting more than what we have, even when we already have enough. In the parable, notice the landowner’s words: I will do this, I will store my grain, my goods, my barns. Not once does he say we, us, or our. He cared only for himself.” And had no thought for the good of others.” Wealth is not evil, but clinging to it blinds us to life’s real treasure. We can have anything we want in life provided we do not let it own us, love belongs to God and people, never to possessions. For the young man—and for us—the greater inheritance is not more possessions, but a restored relationship with our brother and a closer walk with God, shown by letting go of greed.

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