The blindness of the heart

Wednesday of week 5 in Ordinary Time 

1 Kings 10:1-10

Psalm 36(37):5-6,30-31,39-40

Mark 7:14-23

The story of King Solomon serves as a stark warning: even the most brilliant success can become a veil. When the Queen of Sheba praised his wisdom, she saw a king of justice; however, that same praise eventually blinded Solomon to his own internal drift. By neglecting his inner life, his external kingdom—once a marvel of unity—crumbled into division. It is a reminder that the most significant collapses rarely start with a bang; they begin in the quiet, unexamined corners of the soul.

The Myth of External Purity

Jesus addressed this head-on when confronted by traditionalists obsessed with the "correct" way to wash hands. He pivoted the conversation from the basin to the breast, making it clear that defilement isn’t something you swallow—it is something you harbor. Rituals and traditions are often used as armor to hide a lack of internal transformation, yet as Jesus noted, the heart of the problem is the problem of the heart. Evil acts like theft, malice, and deceit do not enter from the outside world; they are birthed in the mind and soul before they ever manifest in our actions.The Universal Reach of Temptation.

There is a common misconception that certain lifestyles or humble roles offer a sanctuary from temptation. One might assume that a simple log splitter or a domestic servant is shielded from the "grosser vices," or that those who stay secluded at home are inherently safe from the world’s influence. In reality, the reach of the internal shadow is universal. Pride can fester in a cottage just as easily as in a palace, and envy can strike a farm laborer as sharply as a king. Even the smallest act—a brief conversation, a minor purchase, or a glance out a window—can be the catalyst for a shift in the soul. Seclusion is not the same as security.

The Only True Safe Harbor

If we are so exposed, where do we find footing? The text suggests that "keeping ourselves" is a burden too heavy for human shoulders. True security does not come from more rigid rituals or stricter isolation, but from a faith-based relationship with God. When our actions flow from this connection rather than a checklist of rules, we naturally move toward a non-judgmental attitude and a genuine joy that spills over to others. Like the imagery in Ecclesiastes, our safety is not found in our own strength, but in resting beneath the protective wings of the Divine—finding the peace that comes from being preserved by something much greater than ourselves.