Greed Part 7
November 16, 2025
Greed Part 7
Greed is often associated with stinginess and never wasting anything. This causes me to muse….
When walking through ancient cathedrals, castles, or old houses, I often think about the people who once came to these places every day and poured their bodies and souls into building them. I am drawn to the carvings, wooden beams, and the delicate inlay on the ceilings and walls. Sometimes a small detail catches my eye, like a doorknob, a leaded-glass window, carving, or some stonework.
I can’t resist touching these things, feeling the silent energy that went into their making. I imagine the carpenter, the stonemason, the artist … each a creator whose hands shaped these now ancient wonders. I place my hand on the wood or rock they worked on and feel their hands. In Hampton Court palace, the home of King Henry the eighth of England, there is a piece of woodwork I enjoy noticing. It is the carved frontal piece of of the monograms of Anne Bolin and Henry, carved during the height of their marriage. After Anne was beheaded, Henry removed all traces of her presence at Hampton Court. But this one carving escaped the people charged with removing any trace of Bolin. I think about the artisan and the happiness it commemorated. I wonder what the wood carver thought when she or he learned their beautiful work was removed. I wonder what they thought when this one was missed.
Artisans never knew their work would endure for hundreds, even thousands of years. They gave their all, day after day, month after month, decade after decade. Some cathedrals took over a century to complete, meaning many of their builders never saw the finished structure. Yet still, they worked with devotion and care.
The artisans and laborers of long ago did not go to work in “ancient times.” They went to work on “todays” just like ours. They carried thoughts about their families, small joys, worries, and their everyday lives. They, too, had toothaches and new shoes, marriages, and losses. And as they carved, painted, chiseled, or mortared, they carried their hopes and anxieties into their work, just as we do today.
Sometimes, in my wanderings, I come upon ruins, the remains of once-grand cathedrals or castles, their walls crumbling, their carvings long gone. The wood, the beams, the intricate details have all vanished. Perhaps a fireplace remains, but without its mantle or grandeur. Had those ancient builders known their masterpiece would fall to ruin, would they have worked with such passion and care? We can never know. But the contrast between what stands and what has fallen stirs something profound within me.
Then I ask myself: Does God waste the work of those who built what now lies in ruin? Furthermore, does God waste the labor of those who built the house down the street that was torn down for something newer and larger?
My heart answers, No. God does not waste anything.
Think of a life like Jane Goodall’s. Though her physical life has ended, her energy and contribution remain vibrant. The same is true of every life that has loved, created, suffered, and rejoiced, even those cut short or forgotten. Each has left an indelible mark on humanity whether they were known or unknown.
God wastes nothing. Somehow, each of our lives becomes a piece of a vast and unfolding puzzle. No matter how long or short our time here, our significance is profound. Just as I can still feel the presence of the ancient artisans in the walls of a cathedral, I think of the living energy of those who helped bring me into being, even those I never knew. They are no longer here, but their lives were not wasted. They were part of God’s abundance that tumbled down toward me. Sacred Benevolence, the absence of greed.
Spiritual practice: Visit an ancient place and feel the energies of those who poured their hearts and souls into their making. Journal what you experience.
Self-inquiry: What would be left of you if all your visible accomplishments were gone?
Prayer:
Dear God, Help me understand the hidden things and the mysteries of Your spiritual economy. Amen.
