The dust has already settled after the Wojewódzki scandal in Poland, when Julia Wieniawa agreed with the thesis that poverty is a state of mind. This drama caused such public outrage that it went beyond the celebrity bubble. Meanwhile, Pope Leo XIV himself seemed to respond to Julia by writing in his first exhortation, Dilexi Te: “Poverty is not a choice. Yet there are still those who dare to say so, showing blindness and cruelty.” (DT 14) It seems obvious that thinking about money will not make a person richer, but could it be that there is something to this controversial thesis after all?
What if we were to say that “slavery is a state of mind”? Externally, of course, we cannot break the chains that bind us with the power of our thoughts, but that does not mean that we have ceased to be internally free. In his memoirs from the Auschwitz camp, Viktor Frankl writes that you can take everything away from a person, but you cannot take away their ability to choose how to act. In any situation, you can be noble or despicable. One can rise above the surrounding reality, as demonstrated by prisoners who encouraged others and gave away their last piece of bread to save someone’s life. However, one can also be drawn into the abyss of cruelty and, as a fellow prisoner, prove to be more ruthless than many SS officers. This decision, made in a moment of extreme circumstances, will be influenced by a series of events in our lives, but it is precisely then that the pinnacle of our humanity can reveal itself. It is no different in everyday life, when we can take full advantage of our freedom and do the right thing, or we can succumb to the expectations of others, our own fears or desires, and ultimately do the wrong thing.
So, can’t poverty also be a state of mind? Wouldn’t we agree with Bob Marley when he said, “Some people are so poor they only have money”? Will not those who had little on earth, because they stored up treasures in Heaven, turn out to be truly rich one day? Again, it is worth looking more at what is happening in our hearts than at the external state of our wallets. After all, there may be a millionaire who is completely free with his millions, while someone else may be so attached to his only coffee mug that he is willing to kill for it. However, practice shows that the more you have, the more difficult it is to distance yourself from money. Jesus himself says that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God” (Luke 18:25). Therefore, blessed are the poor in spirit, that is, those who are free in relation to what they have and remember that everything is a grace and a gift from the Lord. Pope Leo, quoting John Chrysostom and St. Ambrose, reminds us that “not to share one’s goods with the poor is to steal from them and deprive them of life. The goods we possess are not ours, but theirs. (…) You are not giving the poor man something of your own, but returning to him what is his property. For you are only appropriating for yourself what belongs to everyone” (DT 42-43).
When we ourselves have plenty, it is easy to close ourselves in our own world and not notice that, in fact, nothing belongs to us. “It must be said that we have developed in many ways, but we are illiterate in accompanying, caring for, and supporting the weakest and most vulnerable in our developed societies. We have become accustomed to looking away, to passing by, to ignoring situations unless they directly affect us” (Fratelli Tutti 64) That is why, from time to time, I examine my conscience and wonder how it is possible that I live here peacefully and lack nothing, while so many people do not have enough to feed their families or work only to survive. I look around me for Lazaruses waiting for crumbs from my feast, but I often catch myself thinking in a way that suggests that I have honestly earned my money and that I deserve to do with it whatever I please.
However, it seems that sharing material goods is not yet the most important lesson to be learned. There is also the one of not looking down on others. Pope Leo, referring to many saints, notes that “each of them discovered in their own way that the poorest are not only the object of our compassion, but also teachers of the Gospel. It is not a matter of “bringing” God to them, but of meeting Him with them. All these examples teach us that service to the poor is not a gesture made “from above to below,” but an encounter between equals, where Christ is revealed and adored.” (DT 79) The third lesson to be learned is even more difficult. I recently heard that what distinguished the Samaritan from the priest and the Levite was that he had time. In a life carefuly planned out in a calendar, there is simply no room to love those who need us. Jesus repeatedly showed that He was in no hurry. If He had time, why shouldn’t I? Is what I have to do really so incredibly important and necessary that there is no time for my neighbour? Truly poor is the person who is too busy to have time for what is really important. So it is a state of mind. There is no doubt about it.
In my Advent this year, so far I find much more darkness than light. Maybe this will make the experience of Israel waiting for the Messiah a little closer to me. When lack of strength and hope creeps into life, longing becomes natural. You want to cry to God that salvation may come at last. He always responds to that call, but almost always quite differently than we might expect.
One of the most important passages in the Gospel for me is the anointment in Bethany. Mary breaks a bottle of precious Nard oil and its scent fills the whole house. This fragrance accompanies me every year during the Holy Week, because a creative Franciscan priest from Poznań once decided to give all participants of the liturgy a tiny vial of real nard, and since then I always solemnly open it on Holy Monday. This scene was also the subject of my contemplation at this year’s retreat and made me realise how much I have recently focused on caring for the bottle, and not for the precious oil inside. It was then that I desired the experience of Paschal fragrance to spread over more of my life.
This year, for the first time in 11 years, during this November time, I visited the graves of my relatives in my home region. Well-known cemeteries with a thousand lights make an impression and provoke reflection on life and death.
Maria and Martha. Contemplation and action. It is difficult to remain indifferent to today’s Gospel. Many times for me it was a remorse: “I should pray more.” Today I am convinced that this conclusion is not always appropriate. I think the best part Mary has chosen is not just that she listened to Jesus instead of running around the house, and Martha’s mistake was not at all that she worked too much and didn’t have time to sit at the Master’s feet.
Today we celebrate the apostle Matthew. I must admit that this is my favourite character from The Chosen series for various reasons, but the most important thing for me is that I started to look at this apostle with much more realism. I knew very well that Matthew was a tax collector and that it meant working for the occupant and collecting high taxes from his Jewish brothers. I also knew that tax collectors often dictated much higher rates than the Romans demanded to enrich themselves at the expense of the poor. It seemed to me, however, that at the moment when Jesus said “Follow me” and he got up and followed him, the whole reality changed forever and Matthew became a friend loved by everyone … it couldn’t be so!
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