Divine Appeal Reflection - 249
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 249: " There is only avarice in acquiring new lands in order to dominate them like thievish wolves."
This Divine Appeal is not just about nations fighting over land—it’s a message for every heart that tries to take control of what should be received as a gift. Our Adorable Jesus is not simply pointing to political greed, but to the restless way we often live—grasping for more, trying to secure our worth through power, things, or recognition. It’s not only world leaders who dominate; we do it too, in our homes, our work, even in our prayer lives—when love turns into control, or service becomes about being noticed. Jesus mourns this forgetfulness, when we act like the vineyard belongs to us, and we push Him—the true Heir—out of the picture (cf. Mt 21:38–39). He reminds us that we were not created to possess and dominate, but to receive and serve. Everything we have is entrusted to us, not owned. When we live as if we are orphans instead of children of God, we lose peace. But when we return to the simplicity of trust and self-giving love, we begin to reflect the Heart of Christ, who came not to seize but to give.
At the heart of this Divine Appeal is a sorrowful cry from Our Adorable Jesus, longing for us to remember who we truly are—not predators striving to dominate, but children of God called to serve with love. We were not made to hoard power or land, but to radiate God’s presence in humility. The desire for more—be it influence, recognition, or territory—is not evil in itself, but once detached from the Cross, it becomes a hunger that wounds rather than heals. Our Lord’s pain is not just over nations that conquer, but over hearts that forget they are stewards, not owners; servants, not masters. When ambition is no longer rooted in charity, it mirrors the ancient rebellion that sought to rise above God. But Our Adorable Jesus does not crush our aspirations—He desires to redeem them, transforming our thirst for greatness into holy zeal: a zeal that stoops low in service, that lifts others gently, and that conquers not by force, but by love (cf. Mt 20:26; Rev 13:8).
In this light, even the smallest soul is summoned to examine their inner empire. What territories of the heart have we claimed as our own, unwilling to surrender? What “land” do we strive to own—approval, security, independence—at the cost of our peace or our neighbor’s dignity? The call of this Appeal is not only geopolitical, but deeply personal: to renounce spiritual colonialism, to stop building kingdoms in His name that He never asked for. Simplicity is not weakness; it is strength anchored in God. Detachment is not failure; it is freedom for union. When we no longer cling to what passes, we become vessels of what endures (cf. Phil 3:7–8; Lk 12:15).
Now is the hour to return—to descend from the towers we’ve built and kneel at the foot of the Cross where everything is given, and nothing is taken by force. Our Adorable Jesus needs no empire; He desires hearts. He does not reign through conquest but through consent. Let us give Him ours again—fully, freely, fearlessly. In relinquishing domination, we rediscover our dignity. In surrendering lands of self-rule, we enter the true inheritance: the Kingdom not of this world, where the meek shall possess the earth (cf. Mt 5:5).
Prayer:
Our Adorable Jesus, You who reign not by force but by love, pierce our hearts with holy poverty. Strip us of every ambition not born of Your Cross. Teach us to serve, not to seize; to bless, not to dominate. May we build nothing unless You are its foundation. Possess us fully, that we may desire no other kingdom but Yours.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
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