Wednesday of the Twenty-fifth week in Ordinary Time

There is a quiet wisdom in the prayer of Agur that our age has nearly forgotten: *Give me neither poverty nor riches.* Here is a man who understands his own soul well enough to fear both extremes. Too much, and he might forget God, growing so satisfied that he asks, "Who is the Lord?" Too little, and desperation might drive him to steal and dishonor the very name he loves. He asks only for the bread that is needful — enough, and no more. It is not a small request. It is a plea to be kept in that narrow place where dependence on God stays alive.

And then Jesus, in the Gospel, sends the Twelve out into exactly that place. Take no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, not even a spare coat. He is not being cruel; He is answering Agur's prayer in a form no one expected. He gives them *the food that is needful* — but only enough for today, only what will come through the hospitality of strangers and the providence of the Father. The apostles cannot store up. They cannot hedge. They must walk out into the villages carrying nothing but the Kingdom itself, and trust that it will be enough. This is the flawless word of God tested on the road: not a doctrine to be admired, but a life to be lived with empty hands.

Perhaps this is the thread that runs through all three readings — that the truest wealth is a heart kept honest by need. Falsehood, riches, and self-sufficiency all whisper the same lie: that we can secure our lives ourselves. The psalmist says he prizes God's word above thousands of pieces of gold. Agur would rather have his daily bread than his own abundance. The apostles are stripped down to the one thing that cannot be taken. And each of them, in his poverty, is somehow closer to God than the man with full barns.