The rich young man’s meeting with Jesus does not go well.

First, his addressing Jesus with the honorific “Good teacher” falls flat. His question about eternal life is all but dismissed by Jesus. His attempt to impress Jesus with his history of faithfulness receives not a blessing but a challenge: “Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven.”

Not surprisingly, the rich young man goes away sad.

Jesus has heard this before. We can’t protect our sense of privilege and entitlement as long as the poor and destitute struggle at our doorstep, Jesus says; we can’t expect to realize the “treasures” of the reign of God if our focus is on increasing the value of our portfolios. The rich young man in Mark’s Gospel embodies that difficult balance of amassing wealth in this world while, at the same time, working to store “treasure in heaven.”

It’s not enough to give to the poor, Jesus says—God calls us to become poor in our perspective and lifestyles for the common good. Scripture says that we “shall not kill,” but God calls us to nurture and sustain all life in whatever ways we can, regardless of the cost to us. God requires more from us than not defrauding or stealing—God calls us to actively seek justice for the victims of poverty, abuse, and prejudice.

No, it’s not easy, Jesus says. The young man finally gets it. And so do we. With the clarity that comes from Christlike humility, may we dismount our “camels” and make our way with wisdom and grace through the “needle’s eye” to the Kingdom of God.

Deacon Jay Cormier from the March 2025 issue of Give Us This Day, www.giveusthisday.org (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2025). Used with permission.

So, when and how did the grateful leper realize he had been healed? Did one of the rags covering his sores slip, revealing a patch of clean skin? Did he suddenly find his arms, hands, legs, and feet whole and working, that he was able to stand up straight, walk, and run to the temple priests? Did he notice that no one was staring at him, that he was not the target of scorn or ridicule, that passersby were not going out of their way to avoid him?

That moment when he realized he was clean must have been a moment of transforming joy. And gratitude.

Gratitude can be a struggle. We take little joy in what we have because we so often grieve for what we do not have. Whatever is good and affirming in our lives is overwhelmed by cynicism and disappointment. Our self-centeredness isolates us, trapping us in tombs of fear, distrust, and hopelessness.

The Gospel calls us to embrace gratitude as a practice: to realize the presence of God’s love in the simplest and most ordinary aspects of our lives, to trust that there is always reason to rejoice and hope despite our sadness and anxieties.

Gratitude rooted in faith transforms cynicism and despair into optimism and hope. To embrace Christ’s spirit of gratitude opens our eyes and hearts to the love of God, making whatever good we do into experiences of grace. And this grace makes us “whole” and “clean” and filled with Christ’s hope and compassion.

Deacon Jay Cormier from the November 2024 issue of Give Us This Day, www.giveusthisday.org (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2024). Used with permission.

It will never be enough.

We could give a few dollars or volunteer for an hour or two a week to help, but would it really make a difference?

Whatever money or time we contribute would be a drop in the ocean. The need is too great for us to make any measurable difference; the problem is too big for little us to make any kind of meaningful impact.

But it would be enough. Enough to make us a part of something good. Enough perhaps to transform one person’s life. Enough to remind ourselves of all that we have to be grateful for. Enough to change us.

Jesus challenges Philip and his disciples to give whatever they can to feed the thousands who have gathered on the plain.

The best they can come up with is a little boy’s lunch of a few pieces of bread and a couple of fish. It’s not much—nowhere near enough, they say. But in Jesus’ hands, it’s enough to make a difference. The bigger miracle that day may not have been the feeding of the multitude but the disciples’ new hope in the possibilities of the simplest act of generosity.

To follow Jesus is not about being effective or successful. Discipleship is about acting faithfully. Miracles are not about performing great works but acting out of the humble love of God to make that love a reality in the lives of those we serve. God calls us to act out of compassion and mercy, however inefficient and pointless it may seem. The love of God makes it enough.

Deacon Jay Cormier from the March 2024 issue of Give Us This Day, www.giveusthisday.org (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2024). Used with permission.

Every week we gather around our parish altars. We place on the eucharistic table bread and wine as our offering to God, who consecrates them and returns them to us as the body and blood of his beloved Son. But imagine a bigger table, an altar on which is placed not just the eucharistic elements, but the means of realizing mercy, compassion, justice, forgiveness in our lives.

Imagine placing next to the paten and chalice your favorite casserole dish, the one you use to prepare suppers for neighbors experiencing crisis or hardship. Set on the parish altar the book you read to your child every night, during those special moments of quiet grace. Include in your offering all the stuff of family life: the keys to the family van, the basketball you and your kids shoot hoops with after supper. Add to these gifts the smartphone you put aside when a friend needs to talk, the yarn you use to knit shawls for the parish prayer shawl ministry, the snow shovel you use to clean your elderly neighbor’s walk.All these gifts are sacramental; they reveal God in our midst.

As the scribe in today’s Gospel says: God seeks no greater gift from us than our bringing God’s mercy to others. To embrace others in love as God embraces us is the heart of discipleship. With our eucharistic offerings, God accepts our most ordinary acts of mercy, our tools of reconciliation, our humble efforts to heal and reconcile. God accepts them and returns them as grace, blessing, and hope.

May we become what we offer at our altars: the embodiment of God’s mercy and peace, the vision of God’s compassion and justice to heal and lift up the broken, the fallen, the lost.

Deacon Jay Cormier from the March 2024 issue of Give Us This Day, www.giveusthisday.org (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2024). Used with permission.