THE UNCONQUERED FORTRESS

Reflection on the holy Gospel reading for the sixth Sunday after the Feast of Holy Cross

Old Testament reading: Genesis 42:29-36, Joshua 10:28-36, and Isaiah 43:16-25
Holy Gospel reading: St. Luke 18:18-27

A ruler approaches Jesus with an admirable question: “Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” (v.18). An inheritance is not ordinarily earned by performing a task; it is received because one belongs to a household. Yet the ruler asks what he must do to inherit, approaching eternal life almost as though it were one more acquisition to be added to an already successful life.

Christ does not simply accept the flattering address of “Good Teacher.” He probes-“Why do you call Me good? No one is good but One, that is, God” (v.19). The Lord is not denying His divinity; He is pressing the ruler to confront the weight of his own words. If God alone is good, does the ruler understand Who stands before him? The ruler has come asking what good he must do; Christ begins by asking him to reconsider where goodness itself comes from.

Christ’s response also carries a searching lesson for our spiritual life-if goodness belongs ultimately to God, even our goodness must never become our possession. When the ruler declares, “All these things I have kept from my youth” (v.21), he may genuinely have lived an exemplary life yet virtue carries its own temptation. The commandments that should deepen our dependence upon God can quietly become evidence of our own righteousness. Wealth is not the only thing we can accumulate; virtues, disciplines and even a reputation for holiness can become another kind of treasure. Both material and moral wealth can occupy the place that belongs to God. Christ therefore leads the ruler beyond the comforting question, “What have I kept?” to the more searching one, “What am I still unable to surrender?”

Jacob’s Fear of Loss

The first Old Testament reading from Genesis 42 presents another person standing before the possibility of surrender. Jacob’s sons return from Egypt without Simeon and report that Benjamin must accompany them if they are to appear again before the governor. Jacob responds: “You have bereaved me: Joseph is no more, Simeon is no more, and you want to take Benjamin. All these things are against me.” (Genesis 42:36)

Jacob interprets his circumstances through the wounds of what he has already lost. Unknown to him, the events that appear to be dismantling his household are the very means through which God will preserve it. This is also the fear of the rich ruler. Jacob clings to Benjamin because Benjamin seems to be all that remains. The ruler clings to wealth because wealth has become his security, identity, and imagined guarantee against uncertainty.

Faith does not mean that surrender is painless. It means trusting that what God is doing cannot be measured solely by what appears to be disappearing. When God closes a path or asks us to release control, we may conclude that everything is against us. Yet the God who seems to be taking Benjamin may already be preparing a reunion with Joseph.

The Conquest Within

The second Old Testament reading from Joshua 10:28-36 recounts the conquest of several fortified cities; Joshua takes each city, defeats its king, and leaves no surviving power capable of reclaiming the land. These passages belong to a particular moment in Israel’s history and must not be turned into a justification for violence. Read spiritually, the uncompromising character of the battle speaks to the seriousness with which passions must be confronted.

The Promised Land cannot be peacefully inhabited while the powers opposed to God retain their thrones. In the same way, the human heart cannot belong wholly to God while cherished idols continue to rule secretly within it. That idol may be wealth, reputation, comfort, control or even our own righteousness. The rich ruler appears to have conquered many outward sins; many visible cities have fallen, yet one fortified city remains, and Christ places His finger precisely upon that unconquered territory. The command to sell and distribute is not divine hostility toward him but a campaign of liberation.

We frequently ask God to remove the consequences of our passions while leaving the passions themselves untouched. Surprisingly, the final fortress is often protected by our virtues. Because we pray, fast, serve, give, and live respectably, we assume that the heart is fully surrendered. Yet the last unconquered city may be the very thing from which we derive our deepest sense of security.

“Shall you not know it?”

In the third Old Testament reading the Lord identifies Himself as the One who made a way through the sea and a path through mighty waters. God now commands Israel not to remain confined to “the former things,” (v.18) because divine grace is preparing something new.This word speaks directly into the ruler’s crisis. Christ places a new future before him, but he cannot imagine life outside the structures that have sustained him until now. His wealth not only has provided him comfort but also narrowed his imagination. He cannot conceive that life with Christ might be richer than everything Christ asks him to release.

The Lord asks, “Shall you not know it?” (Isaiah 43:19) The question is one of spiritual perception. The ruler sees the cost, but not the new creation. St. Luke tells us that the ruler became “very sorrowful.” His sorrow reveals that the word of Christ has reached him; he knows that he stands before a genuine decision. The tragedy of the rich ruler was not that Christ asked for too much, but that his hands were too full to receive the One who had come to give him everything.

This last point brings us to the climax of the passage. When Jesus declares how difficult it is for the wealthy to enter the Kingdom, the hearers ask, “Who then can be saved?”. If even a disciplined, respectable and religiously observant person cannot secure eternal life, salvation must lie beyond human achievement. Christ answers, “The things which are impossible with men are possible with God.” (v.27) These words are more than a general assurance that God can overcome our difficulties; they announce the mystery of salvation itself.

As the liturgical year draws to its close, its final lessons leave us with a striking paradox. The rich fool filled his barns yet was not rich toward God while the rich ruler chooses his earthly treasure over Christ-the true Treasure. We leave the season of the Cross knowing that the riches of earth cannot save us and turn towards the manger to receive the One “who makes us rich by becoming poor for our sake” (2 Corinthians 8:9).

In Christ,
Rincy