A wise teacher once stood before his students, holding up two objects: a mirror and a window.

“Both are made of glass,” he explained. “But one reflects only yourself, while the other opens a view beyond.”

He paused and said, “If your life is like the mirror, you will see only your own desires, your own plans, your own image. But if your life becomes like the window, you will begin to see others, to see God, and to glimpse eternity.”

This simple image captures the heart of today’s Gospel. The rich man lived with a mirror. Everything he saw revolved around himself – his barns, his goods, his future. But Jesus challenges us to live with a window: to look beyond ourselves and live with reference to what is above.

 The Illusion of Self-Sufficiency

We live in a culture that conditions us to look into the mirror. From an early age, we’re influenced to seek fulfillment in wealth, comfort, and control. This is the subtle power of greed – not just the desire for more, but the deeper illusion that we are self-sufficient, that life can be secured by what we possess and carefully managed according to our own plans.

Wealth, comfort, and control are not evil in themselves. But when they become the focus of our lives – when they begin to define our identity and direct our desires – they enslave us. They take the place of God. And that is where the danger becomes spiritual, even deadly.

St. Paul speaks to this with clarity:  

 “Put to death, therefore, whatever in you is earthly… greed, which is idolatry.” (Colossians 3:5)

Greed is not simply an ethical failing. It is a spiritual distortion. It is a kind of false worship – placing created things above the Creator. And where worship is disordered, so too are our lives.

Right Worship, Right Vision

The early Church understood this well. The word “orthodoxy” meant more than right belief – it meant right worship.  

Orthos – straight.  

Doxa – glory.

When our hearts are aligned toward God, when our loves are rightly ordered, we are free. But when the self becomes the object of worship, we become prisoners of our own desires.

This is the tragedy revealed in the parable. The rich man has what many would call a blessing: an abundant harvest. His problem is not wealth – it’s vision. He sees only himself. His first thought is to tear down and build bigger barns. He speaks to his soul as though it were a possession:  

 “You have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” (Luke 12:19)

But God interrupts:  

“You fool! This very night your life will be demanded of you.”

Why is he called a fool? Because he has made no provision for eternity. He made plans for his body but none for his soul. He imagined that his life was his own to control. In reality, his existence was always a gift, held in the hands of God.

The Question That Gives Meaning

And so it is with us. We carefully arrange our lives – our homes, our careers, our calendars. We plan and build, invest, and accumulate. But we often forget the one question that gives meaning to all the others:  

For whom am I living?

The rich man’s story is not rare. It reflects a kind of spiritual sleepwalking that afflicts many in our world – and yes, even many in the Church. We can become so caught up in the mechanics of life that we fail to reflect on its purpose. We fill our barns but neglect our altars.

 The Call to Transcendence

So what is the alternative?

St. Paul offers a clear path forward:  

 “Set your minds on things above, not on things that are on earth.”

This is the call to transcendence. It does not mean rejecting the material world, but seeing it in its proper light. It means learning to receive all things as gifts and to use all things for love. To “put on the new self,” as Paul says, is to be renewed in the likeness of Christ.

This new life is not abstract. It expresses itself in concrete ways:  

– In prayer  

– In generosity  

– In how we treat the poor and suffering , the weak and defenseless, and those whose voices are silenced by injustice or indifference

It asks us to examine not only what we possess, but what possesses us.

 A Life of Worship

Above all, it is a life of worship. When we truly worship God – when our hearts are lifted toward Him – our desires begin to change. We no longer chase the illusion of control. We no longer confuse abundance with security. Instead, we begin to see through the window – to glimpse the kingdom, to live for what lasts.

And this leads to a question that each of us must answer:  

What do I truly worship? 

Is it the self, or is it God?  

Do I live with a mirror, or with a window?

This is not a question meant to accuse, but to awaken. Conviction, in the Christian life, is never the end – it is the beginning of renewal. God’s call – “You fool!” – is not a curse. It is mercy. It is the call to return. The invitation to become wise.

From Vanity to Grace

At every Mass, we pray: 

 “Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.” 

That is the compass that can reorient our lives. That is the prayer that shifts our gaze from what is below to what is above.

Enjoy the good things of life. But let them be windows, not mirrors. Let them lead you to gratitude, not grasping. Let them be occasions for generosity, not insulation.

Because apart from God, all is vanity.

But with Him, all is grace.

And may we never hear those chilling words, “You fool,” but instead, that most beautiful of all judgments: 

 “Well done, good and faithful servant.”