Some days the Gospel feels like a mirror that won’t flatter us. Today’s readings hold up such a mirror: Paul insists that our true life is “hidden with Christ in God,” while Jesus pronounces blessings and woes that overturn our common sense about success and security (Col 3:1-4; Lk 6:20-26). In a world that prizes visibility, likes, and control, these texts invite a different orbit: a heart turned upward, a life turned outward, and a hope rooted beyond the shifting ground of circumstance.
Seeking What Is Above Without Escaping What Is Below
Paul begins by placing our desires on a new axis: “Seek what is above… Think of what is above, not of what is on earth” (Col 3:1-2). This is not an invitation to denial, but to direction. St. Gregory of Nyssa famously described the Christian life as epektasis—an endless stretching toward God—because God’s goodness is inexhaustible. To “seek what is above” means letting God’s beauty, truth, and love reframe what we value here and now: how we spend our time, why we work, whom we notice, what we celebrate.
When Paul says our life is “hidden with Christ in God” (Col 3:3), he names a freedom many of us need. In a digital age that measures worth in views and metrics, hiddenness sounds like loss. But hiddenness in Christ is not anonymity; it is security. It frees us from curating a self and permits us to live one. When Christ appears, the hidden will be revealed—and it will be glory (Col 3:4).
Putting to Death the Old Self: Confronting Our Everyday Idols
“Put to death, then, the parts of you that are earthly… greed that is idolatry” (Col 3:5). Augustine would call this the work of reordering our loves. The vice list Paul names—impurity, evil desire, anger, malice, slander, obscene talk, lying (Col 3:5-9)—isn’t abstract. It looks like using people to ease loneliness, feeding resentment with doomscrolling, bending the truth to protect our image, or tearing down a colleague online in the name of honesty.
Idols are whatever quietly demand sacrifice: sleep, integrity, relationships, prayer—so long as they get our attention. The Gospel’s woes warn us how subtle this can be: “Woe to you who are rich… who are filled now… who laugh now… when all speak well of you” (Lk 6:24-26). The problem isn’t joy, affirmation, or provision; it’s building our worth upon them. When good things become ultimate things, they become cruel masters.
“Put off the old self… put on the new self” (Col 3:9-10). This is more than resolve; it is cooperation with grace. Practically, it may mean a small fast from the platform that fans anger, a weekly examen to name resentments before they harden, or scheduling the Sacrament of Reconciliation to let Christ name and unmake the false self.
Christ Is All and In All: A New Map of Human Belonging
Here is Paul’s startling claim: “Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcision and uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all and in all” (Col 3:11). St. Irenaeus saw in Christ the One who “recapitulates” humanity—gathers us into a healed whole. This doesn’t erase our histories or cultures; it heals them from becoming battle flags. In an age of identity warfare, Paul offers a different center: belonging that runs deeper than our greatest differences because it flows from the One who holds us together.
This verse challenges our habits. Do we curate friendships solely around agreement? Do we equate moral seriousness with scorning “the other side”? The new self looks like patient listening, tangible hospitality, and intercession for those who offend us. It is not naivete; it is allegiance to the One who broke down the dividing wall at the cost of his own body.
The Blessings and the Woes: Learning Heaven’s Arithmetic
Luke’s Beatitudes are not sentiment; they are a training in desire. “Blessed are you who are poor… hungry… weeping… when people hate you… on account of the Son of Man” (Lk 6:20-22). Jesus is not romanticizing hardship; he is locating God’s nearness where the world doesn’t look. If you feel stretched by rent, by medical uncertainty, by grief that wakes you in the night—Jesus does not stand far off. He calls you blessed because heaven has already moved toward you.
And then the “woes” arrive like a jolt: “Woe to you who are rich… filled… laughing… when all speak well of you” (Lk 6:24-26). Augustine once contrasted two loves: the love of self to the contempt of God, and the love of God to the contempt of self. The woes warn us when even lawful comforts calcify into a self-enclosed love: when we buffer ourselves from need, curate only pleasant company, and prefer admiration to truth. The remedy is not guilt but generosity—opening our table, our calendar, and our wallet enough to feel it. That interior “pinch” is often the sensation of a growing heart.
“Rejoice and leap for joy! Your reward will be great in heaven” (Lk 6:23). Joy in trials is not denial; it is trust that God is already at work transfiguring what wounds us into what will one day crown us.
The Compassion That Carries Us
The psalm anchors everything: “The Lord is compassionate toward all his works” (Ps 145:2-3, 10-13). The Beatitudes make sense only because God’s compassion precedes our effort. We bless God every day not because every day is easy, but because his Kingdom endures when our circumstances don’t (Ps 145:13). Compassion is God’s way of being with us; mercy is our way of being with one another.
Practices for Today
- Name your hidden life: Spend five quiet minutes with Col 3:3, telling Jesus where you feel unseen. Ask to receive his gaze as your security.
- Reorder one love: Identify one small idol (approval, anger, control). Choose one concrete swap today—prayer before news, silence before reply, generosity before self-comfort (Col 3:5-10).
- Cross a line of division: Share a meal, a message, or a favor with someone outside your usual circle. Practice the truth that “Christ is all and in all” (Col 3:11).
- Side with the blessed: Support a local work for the poor or a friend who is grieving. Let your calendar and budget reflect the Beatitudes (Lk 6:20-22).
- Pray the psalm: Bless the Lord aloud for one concrete mercy from today (Ps 145:2-3).
To seek what is above is not to float above the world; it is to love within it with a heart anchored in heaven. As we put off the old and put on the new, we discover that the One who calls us blessed is already walking the plain with us—poor with the poor, hungry with the hungry, weeping with the weeping—and promising a joy no circumstance can erase (Col 3:10; Lk 6:20-23; Ps 145:13).