Mam mon (mamen) noun - wealth regarded as an evil influence or false object of worship and devotion. It was taken by medieval writers as the name of the devil of covetousness, and revived in this sense by Milton.

For many literalists today’s Gospel is an indictment of all “wealth,” as if intent has no role in Christianity-at-large. In the Roman Catholic faith, we are well-schooled on the idea of culpability as in ‘”Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa” and the power of intent. (Mea culpa is a Latin phrase that means "through my fault" and is an acknowledgement of having done wrong. Grammatically, meā culpā is in the ablative case, with an instrumental meaning. The phrase comes from a prayer of confession of sinfulness, known as the Confiteor, used in the Roman Rite at the beginning of Mass or when receiving the sacrament of Penance.) But I digress.

Today’s Gospel offers us one of the most powerful and simple questions asked by Jesus: “Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?” Well, can we? Nope!

But the question being asked of all Christian disciples is less about the possessing of wealth or money or jewels or golf clubs or any other material item but is rather about the “motivation” by which we utilize to acquire such items—and furthermore what they truly mean to us once we have them. If we possess items for the benefits they bring to us or for the convenience and the betterment of our lives—and of those around us—then they are a “good” by which we can use to help ourselves and others. If we collect things for the simple fact of ownership or for power or for purely selfish purposes so that they become things that define who we are, then we must ask the question of “do we own them or do these things own us?” Today’s message from the gospel is all about is: Learning dependence on God while living in a consumer society.

Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta once gave a talk to a group of Franciscans about their founder St. Francis. She told of his story of first meeting a leper. How at first the future saint drew back from the leper as he was turned off by his presence. But after thought and prayer, Francis embraced the leper and felt that he had been born anew and became of lover of Christ. In fact, Mother Teresa said that Francis had a “competition with Christ” in terms of poverty. Francis believed that when you properly understood poverty—hard to do in our society—you actually come to know freedom. “Having less, living simply, equals freedom.” Both St. Mother Teresa and St. Francis are wonderful examples of this freedom.

I remember the day I entered the seminary in Boston. Leaving my apartment and life behind, I packed my car and headed to Brighton. I took everything up to my third-floor room (cell) and began to unpack. Quickly I realized that I was trying to fit everything I thought I “needed” to survive into an 11 by 7 foot room. Books, clothes, TV, computer, paintings and more…Trip-by-trip back home I began to unload my room at St. John’s Seminary and eventually had one painting on the wall and few items (it was just too difficult to maneuver around the room with all the things I first brought up with me.) And after nearly eight years in the Seminary, I can honestly say that I felt “free” from all those belongings. Now, 14 years after ordination I am back to square one. We are by nature and by nurture collectors and possessors. We live in a society that rates our value by what we possess: No longer is a 1300 square foot home with 1.5 bathrooms and three bedrooms and two garages sufficient for a family of four; no longer is a car that seats five enough, or a two-week rental on the Cape good enough, nor is the 32” television or the sunfish or catamaran. We live in an ever-increasing and needy society where the “person” is now defined by the “place or thing.”
Character has been replaced by self-esteem and feeling good about one’s self means having more and bigger things. This is what defines us, sadly.

But in the end, we must all face that one simple question asked by Jesus in today’s Gospel: “Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?” Let’s not worry so much (and we don’t have to do this ‘cold turkey’) about how many or how much we have, but how do we use well the blessings and things we already possess. Over the inside front door of the rectory there is a sign that says, “Count your blessings.” A good reminder not to focus on what might be owned but rather what you already have…we sometimes are so focused on looking at what we think we need rather than count what we already have. What’s the
worrying going to accomplish…except stress?