Friday of the 11th Week in Ordinary Time

Brothers and sisters in Christ,

In the quiet moments of life, when the noise fades, a fundamental question emerges: What do I truly treasure? It’s not just about what we say we value, but what our hearts truly cling to, revealing where our priorities lie.

Saint Paul gives his answer not in accomplishments, but in afflictions. Shipwrecked, beaten, imprisoned, hungry. He does not list his wounds for sympathy, but to show what he has staked his life on: not comfort, not honour, but Christ crucified. “If I must boast,” he says, “I will boast of the things that show my weakness.” For Paul, weakness isn’t failure; it’s the crucible where faith is forged. Our treasures determine what we’re willing to endure, transforming suffering into a testament of faith.

And what of us, here in Zimbabwe? In a land where many suffer without cause, Paul’s words become a mirror. What is worth our wounds? What legacy are we building? Are we treasuring things that last—or things that rust?

The psalmist answers with lived trust: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” This is not sweet poetry—it is survival. It is the prayer of the widow who keeps coming to church though her crops fail. The quiet courage of a nurse tending the sick with empty shelves. The endurance of a student dreaming in a jobless town. “I will bless the Lord at all times”—not just when life improves, but now, in the dust and waiting. That is worship with calloused hands. That is faith that sees through the fog.

And then Jesus, with holy clarity, says: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth.” He is not condemning prudence – that is, practical wisdom and good judgment in managing our affairs. He is calling out idolatry. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” A divine law, not a gentle suggestion.

In His day, the “eye” was more than sight—it was vision, a window to the soul. A generous eye flooded the body with light. A greedy one clouded it with darkness. Jesus is asking: How do you see? With envy or empathy? With fear or faith?

This vision is urgent for us. What is treasure in a place where so many go without? Land without justice? Wealth without mercy? Prestige without service? Catholic Social Teaching reminds us: every person is of infinite worth. If our treasure is in heaven, it must be visible here—in justice, compassion, and truth.

St Ignatius teaches us to examine our attachments—not because things are evil, but because disordered love dims freedom. In the Exercises, he invites us to follow the poor Christ, who had nothing but gave all.

So, imagine now: Jesus stands beside you, pointing to a storeroom filled with rust and decay. “Is this where you want your heart?” He then shows you a woman offering her last coin, a youth defending truth, a man feeding the hungry in secret. These are treasures moths cannot touch.

As we reflect on these teachings, let us bring these questions into our prayer…

• What do I truly treasure—and how is that shaping the direction of my life?
• Where is Christ inviting me to see differently, with eyes full of light?
• What one act can I do this week to shift from passing gain to eternal treasure?

May our vision be clear, our hearts unburdened, and our lives illuminated by the singular treasure of Christ.

Let us go forth with hope, ready to live out this divine treasure in our daily actions.

In preparing this homily, I consulted various resources to deepen my understanding of today’s readings, including using Magisterium AI for assistance. The final content remains the responsibility of the author.