In the climactic finale of The Lord of the Rings, a profound Catholic epic, our hero, Frodo, ascends the volcanic Mount Doom, planning to destroy the all-powerful One Ring. Yet, in a sudden twist his adversary, the corrupted Gollum, ambushes him in a desperate attempt to seize the Ring. A frantic struggle ensues, ending in Gollum clutching the Ring with unwavering love. But in the heat of the moment, he loses his footing, hurtling into the molten crater below. In his final seconds, Gollum’s ecstasy turns to sheer terror, his eyes widening as he sinks below the waves of lava.

This dramatic episode serves as an apt illustration of the perilous consequences of clinging to worldly things at peril of our eternal lives.  As the Book of Sirach teaches us “Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet the sinner hugs them tight.” It’s a human tendency to grasp onto such emotions, even when they harm us. Initially, anger may seem justifiable and motivating, especially in the face of injustice or loss. It can inspire corrective action, whether for our own benefit or the sake of our loved ones. However, the danger arises when we tightly embrace these emotions to the exclusion of the good, as Sirach cautions. We learn from our lives and our faith that holding onto anger can be corrosive, leading to harmful consequences. Jesus encourages us to “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” (Luke 6:27)

This pattern extends to various aspects of our fallen world, where seemingly useful and pleasant pursuits can morph into “hateful things” when they exert control over us. Consider the pursuit of possessions, which are essential for our well-being and security. Yet, when we prioritize material wealth over our family or our relationship with God, it can result in a damaging imbalance. Similar pitfalls emerge with other pursuits, such as pleasure, power, and wealth, where the quest for these desires can blind us to their destructive potential. When we perceive threats to the treasures we hold dear, wrath and hatred can creep into our souls. And if we allow them to fester, they poison us from within, eroding our capacity to do good. Hatred and resentment act as moral cancers, corroding our enthusiasm for benevolence.

In the end, the anger and wrath we embrace can come to possess us entirely, leaving little room for healing or reconciliation. As Sirach reminds us, “Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from the LORD?”

Turning to today’s Gospel, Jesus recounts a parable about a person deeply entangled in the pursuit of worldly possessions, resulting in overwhelming debt. This individual’s debt is staggering, amounting to several years’ worth of wages. How did things reach such dire straits? Was it reckless gambling, addiction, or perhaps he put all his money into bitcoin. Regardless of the cause, this person chased something they treasured more than their family’s well-being, placing their loved ones at risk of being sold into slavery. Resentment toward the master to whom the debt was owed likely festered.

In a desperate plea for mercy, the servant makes an extraordinary request, seeking time to repay a debt that is, realistically, insurmountable. In a surprising twist, the master responds with unparalleled grace, forgiving the entire debt outright, without concessions or extensions. Overwhelmed with joy, the servant extols the compassion and mercy of his master, no longer burdened by debt. Or so it seemed.

The servant’s next actions reveal a stark truth—he remains enslaved to anger and wrath. When confronted with a fellow debtor who owes a significantly smaller sum, he retaliates with threats and violence, despite having just been shown extraordinary mercy. Recognizing the insincerity of the servant’s gratitude, the master condemns him to imprisonment and torment, a place of purgation until the entire debt is repaid. ‘Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself and expect pardon for his own sins?’(Sir 28:5)

Gollum’s tragic fate in the fiery depths of Mount Doom serves as a fictional but telling example. His lifelong obsession with the power of the Ring fueled anger and wrath, ultimately consuming him. In the end, he clung to the one thing he cherished above all else, even his life.  Meanwhile that the object of his desire was being destroyed. ‘If one who is but flesh cherishes wrath, who will forgive his sins?’ (Sir 28:6)

Our service to God demands that we extend mercy to those who wrong us. Loving God above all means rejecting the supremacy of worldly possessions. It is incompatible with our role as children of God to let materialism dictate our lives.

Jesus alone is the goal of our lives. Rather than love of earthly things, love of God must consume us. Remember your last days, set enmity aside; remember death and decay, and cease from sin! Think of the commandments, hate not your neighbor; remember the Most High’s compassion, and overlook faults. (Sirach 28:7). By doing so, we free ourselves from the chains that bind us and open the door to the boundless mercy of God.