Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
03 August 2025
First Reading: Ecclesiastes 1:2; 2:21-23
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14 and 17
Second Reading: Colossians 3:1-5, 9-11
Gospel: Luke 12:13-21
Reflection By:
Bro. Carlo Alexis Malaluan
Diocese of Imus
You’ve probably
heard the old tale of King Midas—the man who wished that everything he touched
would turn to gold. At first, it seemed like a dream come true. His palace
sparkled, his wealth grew, and his fame spread. But that golden touch soon
turned into a curse. The food he tried to eat turned to metal. Even his beloved
daughter, when she ran into his arms, became a lifeless statue of gold. In the
end, what he thought was a blessing revealed the tragic emptiness of having
everything… except what truly matters.
The Gospel this
Sunday tells a story not far from Midas’—a man blessed with an abundant harvest,
so much, that his barns couldn’t contain it all. Like Midas, he thought to
himself, “Now I can rest. I’ve made it. Soul, eat, drink, be merry.” He
believed he had finally arrived at peace, that his heart could finally settle
down.
But God calls
him fool. “This very night your life will be demanded of you. And the things
you have prepared—whose will they be?”
It’s easy to say
we are not materialistic. Easy to claim we are not enslaved by money or the
things that glitter in this world. But if we take an honest look at our daily
lives—our thoughts before going to sleep, our worries upon waking, our plans,
our fears—don’t they often reveal where our hearts truly rest?
The problem of
the rich man isn’t his success, his hard work, or his good harvest. His
downfall is his misplaced security. He thought his soul could find rest in what
he owned, rather than in the One who gave it all. And so his heart, like
Midas’, was trapped—not in poverty, but in the illusion of wealth.
Today’s Gospel
asks us a quiet but piercing question: Where does my heart find rest? What kind
of treasure do I hold closest to my chest? Is it something that can be taken
away in a moment, or is it something eternal?
Isn’t that the
same subtle temptation we face today? We often equate the rest of the heart
with what we can accumulate—money, achievements, possessions, even
relationships that offer us comfort. But even when we have them all, we remain
restless. There’s always the fear of losing them. Always the anxiety of what’s
next.
The Gospel
challenges us to ask: What kind of treasure does my heart truly value? For the
heart, as St. Augustine once said, is restless until it rests in God. True
wealth cannot be measured by quantity, but by depth—the depth of our
relationship with God, the depth of our love, the depth of our giving and
belonging.
When the heart
finds rest in the treasure of God, it becomes at peace even in scarcity. When
the heart rests in authentic love, it feels whole even amid imperfections. When
the heart rests in God’s will, it finds a peace the world cannot buy. When our
hearts rest in God, there is peace—even when we don’t have everything figured
out. When our hearts rest in love, there is fullness—even when life is not
perfect. And when our hearts rest in doing the will of the Father, there is
joy—even in the midst of uncertainty.
So today,
perhaps we’re being invited to look at our own “golden touches”—those things we
think will bring us peace, control, or contentment. Are they really feeding the
soul, or are they turning what’s most human in us into something hollow? Where
does my heart truly find rest? In God, or in things that fade away?
And if we realize we've been learning on fragile foundations, we need not be afraid to return. God is always waiting. Because His heart is the true home of our own. Because His heart is where ours was meant to rest all along.
Prayer
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