This Gospel reminds me of a day in the Eighth Grade when Sister Celeste wrote a sentence on the board, telling us to copy it. The sentence, as she wrote it then was:
“What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but suffers the loss of his own soul?”
We waited to hear what we were to do with those words. Were we to memorize them? Were we to write an essay on them? She didn’t say.
Sometimes not saying a thing makes a bigger impression than anything said. When my dad was ten he was a delivery boy for Grones’ Fine Chocolates Shop. One day Mrs. Grone told him, “Francis, I’m going to have to let you go. You know why, don’t you?”
He said, “Yes, Ma’am,” But he didn’t know, and even when he was ninety he wondered why she had to let him go.
I suppose it is the same with “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world?”
By planting it in our minds and leaving it there, Sister Celeste started it growing into a principle of life, so that it would pop up every time we were faced with choices about what to do with ourselves.