This coming Wednesday is Ash Wednesday. So,
today is the last Sunday before Lent. When, in June, after Pentecost, we resume
Ordinary Time, we will read the second discourse of Jesus in Matthew’s gospel,
the so-called “missionary discourse.” Therefore, today we conclude the reading
of the sermon on the mount.
We have already seen on previous Sundays how
radical Jesus is in his speech. He shows himself likewise drastic at the
beginning of today’s passage: “No one can serve two masters. He will either
hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other.” In
Christian life there is no space for compromise; we have to decide on which
side we want to be. Jesus says this because he knows man’s heart; he knows that
love is exclusive: it cannot be directed to anybody without distinction; it
will be necessarily focused on one person; others will be inevitably loved
less—this is the meaning of “hating”.
Who are the two masters between whom we should
choose? God and money: “You cannot serve God and mammon” (Non potestis Deo
servire et mammonae)—“mammon” is an Aramaic word meaning wealth or
property. Why should we put on the same level two realities so different between
them? God is the Creator and Lord of heaven and earth; money is just a means
invented by man to make trade among people easier. Of course, as long as money is
a simple instrument for living, there is no problem. Jesus himself used money;
he had a treasurer and was accompanied by some women who provided for him out
of their resources. The problem is that money often, instead of being a means,
inclines to become a master, to take the place of God, thus becoming an idol.
This happens when we put all our confidence in
it. We feel safe just because we are rich or, on the contrary, we feel unsafe
just because we are poor. In these cases, we give the money a power it does not
have. Our life does not depend on it. We might live a life of ease, and yet not
be happy; we might possess a lot of money, and lose everything all at once; we
might be the richest in the world, and fall sick and die suddenly. Mammon is
not able to save us.
Instead, we can rely on God, because he is almighty,
he is able to do anything. He is all-knowing; he knows what we need. He is
good, because, before being our master, he is our Father; and a father does not
forget his children: “Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for
the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you”—so the
first reading.
What guarantee does Jesus give to persuade us
to trust in God? “Look at the birds in the sky … Learn from the way the wild
flowers grow.” Jesus invites us to look at nature: birds and flowers do not
worry, and yet they lack nothing. We call this care of God for his creatures
“providence.” It is the characteristic of a father, who makes sure that his
children want for nothing. So, if God is concerned for beasts and plants, should
he not be concerned for human beings? “Are not you more important than they?”
In short, today’s liturgy invites us to get rid
of anxiety and throw ourselves into God’s hands. In the Responsorial Psalm we
have repeated: “Rest in God alone, my soul.” There is another Psalm that
expresses even better this abandonment to divine providence: “Truly I have set
my soul in silence and peace. As a child rest in its mother’s arms, even so my
soul” (Ps 131:2). What should we worry about? “Seek first the kingdom of God and
his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides.” This should
be our only concern: to seek the kingdom of God. As for the rest, he will see
to it.
Q
