Cover Image - Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Serving God or Serving Mammon

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The readings today converge on a single question: What will we do with the power we hold—economic, social, spiritual—while it is still in our hands? They unveil a God who sees how money is made, not just how it is spent; who lifts those left in the dust; who desires a people shaped by prayer; and who insists that our ultimate loyalty cannot be split. The Scriptures push beyond platitudes into the heart of how we buy, sell, vote, work, forgive, and plan for the future.

When Scales Are Fixed

Amos confronts a marketplace culture that treats people as expendable and profit as sacred. “We will diminish the ephah, add to the shekel, and fix our scales for cheating! We will buy the lowly for silver, and the poor for a pair of sandals” (Am 8:5-6). It is chilling how modern this sounds: predatory lending dressed up as innovation, wage theft disguised as “efficiency,” data manipulation presented as “insight,” and the steady pressure to monetize what should be protected—time, trust, human dignity.

God’s response is not mild. “Never will I forget a thing they have done!” (Am 8:7). The Lord hears the groan beneath the noise of profit. St. Gregory of Nyssa, who stressed the immeasurable worth of the human person and the soul’s unending ascent toward God, would not allow us to treat people as units of production without injuring our own ascent. To scorn the poor is to scorn the image of God; to lift them is to align with the One whose glory stoops low.

The God Who Lifts

The psalm answers Amos with praise: “He raises up the lowly from the dust; from the dunghill he lifts up the poor, to seat them with princes” (Ps 113:7-8). This is not romanticism about poverty; it is revelation about God. The Lord’s throne is high, yet his gaze falls on those at the bottom (Ps 113:4-6). That divine gaze becomes a summons. If God exalts the lowly, those who belong to him cannot be indifferent to structures that grind them down. St. Irenaeus, the Doctor of Unity, saw in Christ the recapitulation of humanity—the restoration of our fractured bonds. To praise the God who lifts up is to participate in that restoration: in hiring and wages, in pricing and lending, in policies and personal choices.

Praying for Leaders, Practicing Peace

St. Paul urges “supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings…for kings and for all in authority, that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity” (1 Tim 2:1-2). Prayer for leaders is not naïve; it is strategic holiness. In a polarized world, interceding for those with whom we disagree is an act of trust in the God “who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4). There is “one God” and “one mediator…Christ Jesus, who gave himself as ransom for all” (1 Tim 2:5-6). Irenaeus would remind us: the one Mediator gathers a divided human family. Our prayers widen the room of mercy where enemies can become neighbors and neighbors can become kin.

The Puzzling Steward and Kingdom Prudence

Jesus’ parable of the dishonest steward unsettles us (Lk 16:1-13). The steward, facing dismissal, quickly reduces debts and wins friends. The master “commended that dishonest steward for acting prudently” (Lk 16:8). Jesus does not praise fraud; he praises foresight. As some commentators note, it is possible the steward relinquished his own commission or interest to secure future welcome—an act of shrewd renunciation. St. Jerome, famed for his rigorous reading of Scripture, would push us to notice what the text does and does not say, and to let its difficulty refine our conscience.

Jesus’ point is clear: “The children of this world are more prudent…than are the children of light” (Lk 16:8). If those who chase lesser goals plan, network, and act decisively, why do those who seek the Kingdom waver? “Make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth, so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings” (Lk 16:9). Worldly wealth is “dishonest” not because it is always ill-gotten, but because it is unstable and often corrupting. Use what will fail to invest in what will not: mercy, solidarity, reconciliation, the works of love. When money is transfigured into friendship with the poor, it becomes a key to doors we cannot see yet.

Faithfulness in Small Things

“The person who is trustworthy in very small matters is also trustworthy in great ones” (Lk 16:10). Ordinary fidelity—how we expense a meal, cite a source, report a metric, treat a gig worker, pay a bill, fill a timecard—forms the soul. If we cannot be trusted with “what belongs to another,” how will God entrust us with “true wealth” (Lk 16:11-12)? Gregory of Nyssa’s vision of epektasis—the soul’s perpetual stretching toward God—suggests that holiness is accumulated in increments. Each small act of integrity stretches us Godward; each shortcut shrinks our capacity for glory.

You Cannot Serve Two Masters

“You cannot serve both God and mammon” (Lk 16:13). Jesus does not say it is difficult; he says it is impossible. Money makes a persuasive master because it offers immediacy: measurable gains, visible security, quick applause. God offers himself: incomprehensible, infinite, and often slow. To choose God over mammon is to accept a different calculus:

Practicing the Readings This Week

The God who sees every rigged scale and every quiet act of fidelity is the God who became poor for our sakes, “so that by his poverty you might become rich” (2 Cor 8:9). In Christ, wealth is redefined as the capacity to love. Invest accordingly, and the welcome you seek will not be denied.

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