[근심 중에 성체 영하지 말기를] 2026년 가해 연중 제11주간 토요일, 전삼용 요셉 신부

Saturday of the 11th Week in Ordinary Time, Year A, 2026 – Do Not Receive Holy Communion in Sorrow In today’s Gospel, Jesus firmly proclaims a message that pierces the very core of our faith: "You cannot serve both God and Mammon. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself." (cf. Matthew 6:24, 34) Today, I intend to meditate on this message by narrowing the focus to one point: that we must not receive Holy Communion while anxious. This is because the heart that worries about tomorrow robs our mouths of the taste of the inheritance that the Father gives us like life itself. We live our lives cunningly twisting this obvious message. "Father, we need money to do God's work and help our neighbors. Isn't it a blessing that He provides us abundantly?" It is packaged plausibly, but if you look beneath the surface, it is the greed to grasp two masters—God and money—in one hand. No sooner do they turn away after receiving the Holy Eucharist than they open their stock market windows and sigh, losing sleep at night worrying that housing prices might drop. They dismiss the command to trust completely as an old tale oblivious to reality, painting over it with the label of "adequate compromise" to suit their own tastes. What happens when one alters God's law to fit their own greed? Tolstoy's short story How Much Land Does a Man Need? sharply illustrates this. The farmer Bahm is consumed by the greed that "if I have enough land, I fear no devil." Finally, he receives an offer from a tribe to give him all the land he can obtain by starting at sunrise and returning to his starting point before sunset. The only rule was that he must return to the starting point before the sun went down. However, Bahm, driven by greed and saying "just a little more, just a little more," eventually exceeds that limit. He runs like a madman at the sight of the setting sun and barely manages to reach the starting point, but collapses on the spot, spitting up blood, and dies. The land he obtained as the price of his greed was nothing more than a two-square-meter grave to bury his body. If one crosses the line where He said, "Do not worry about tomorrow," and runs according to one's own will, the soul dies spitting blood like this. Then why did Jesus say not to worry about tomorrow? The manna incident in Exodus clearly illuminates that allegory. God gave manna to the Israelites in the wilderness every day and gave them one law: "Do not leave any behind until morning" (see Exodus 16:19). However, fearing they would go hungry tomorrow, the people violated this command and secretly hid the manna. The Bible records the result as follows: "There were maggots swarming there and a stench emanating from it" (see Exodus 16:20). Right here lies the heart of today's meditation. Manna is the Father's food given daily, and a foreshadowing of the Eucharist that will be given later. The act of clutching the manna out of worry for tomorrow is the most severe disbelief—a failure to trust the Father who feeds me. And that disbelief causes the food to rot. Yesterday's manna was no longer sustenance, but maggots. This is our story. Receiving the Eucharist while harboring anxiety is like hiding yesterday's manna. The Eucharist is fundamentally the nourishment of the soul, the heavenly manna that the Father bestows upon me today. However, if we receive it while worrying about tomorrow's stocks, housing prices, and our old age, we cannot taste that holy sustenance at all. This is because the maggots of anxiety gnaw away at the sweetness of the Eucharist. Even when receiving the same Eucharist, some taste the life of heaven, while others turn away without tasting anything. It is not that the sustenance has changed. It is that anxiety was boiling in the hearts of those receiving it. Here, we must understand the Father's heart. A video I saw long ago vividly illustrates that heart. It asked high school seniors preparing for college entrance exams, "What is the dream you absolutely want to achieve before you die?" The children each wrote down a joyful dream. Then I asked, "If you had exactly one year left to live, would you achieve your dream during that year, or would you accept 500 million won?" The children answered without exception. "Of course, my dream is important." This time, the fathers of those children were called in and asked the same question. The fathers' dreams were also simple and beautiful: backpacking trips with their families, building a picturesque house in the countryside, and living there with their wives. However, when asked, "If you had only one year left to live, which would you choose: your dream or 500 million won?" the fathers answered in unison: "Of course, it is 500 million won. I would leave that money to my wife and children even if it meant sacrificing my life." Behold, right here lies the secret of today's Gospel. Children worry about their own dreams. Therefore, they take lightly the inheritance...