Dear Dave,
I’m a sophomore in college studying agriculture business. I grew up on a farm, and recently I decided it’s time to sell a small cattle herd my dad helped me start growing when I was a kid. I don’t have any student loan debt, and I’m paying for school with lots of scholarships and some help from my parents. I can sell the herd for about $20,000, and I was wondering how you think I should invest that money for the future.
Colby

Dear Colby,
You know what? I think the best investment Colby can make right now is in Colby. By that, I mean I want you to finish your degree debt-free more than I want you to become a professional investor.

If I were in your shoes, I’d park the proceeds from your cattle sale in a high-yield savings account. Think of it as an insurance policy that will enable you to finish up school without taking out a bunch of student loans. I know that doesn’t sound as glamorous as investing, but think about this: Even though that $20,000 might not grow a ton in two or three years, it will grow. And if you don’t need it for school, it’ll be sitting there waiting for you when you’re ready to set up house and start your new life after graduation.

Colby, in your case, finishing school and getting a valuable degree — one you can actually use to make a future for yourself — is going to give you a better mathematical return than a mutual fund. Why? Because you are a better investment than a mutual fund. Literally. I’m not talking about just in a philosophical or spiritual sense, but financially. What you’ll be able to do with your life and the money you’ll make in the process is a great return on your hard work and tuition dollars.

I can tell you grew up on a farm, young man. You’re definitely no stranger to real work, planning ahead and thinking about the future. I’m proud of you, buddy!
— Dave

Dave Ramsey is a bestselling author, personal finance expert and host of The Ramsey Show.

My favorite response after mention of things we plan to do is “God willing!” If you say, “See you tomorrow!” I’ll say “God willing!” I wasn’t raised with this phrase; I learned it from my parishioners who, in such situations, would respond “¡Si Dios quiere!” meaning “If God wants” or “Primero Dios” (“God first”). 

Since I am God’s servant, his will takes precedence over what I want. Arabic speakers say “Inshallah,” which means exactly the same thing. In this, we are, perhaps without knowing it, much closer to believing Muslims than to secular Americans who put doing their own will ahead of doing what God requires — for instance, in issues of morality.

All of the events of Holy Thursday are linked to the question of putting God’s will ahead of our own. If doing God’s will were easy, it wouldn’t lead to the cross. So it is very significant that it is in this context that Jesus instituted the sacrament of the Eucharist — the worthy reception of which requires death to self. Jesus had died to himself long before he died on the cross.

At the Last Supper, Jesus was conscious of the fact that the original Passover meal described in today’s first reading was followed by the death of the firstborn of all the houses of Egypt, the awful price paid to break Pharaoh’s stranglehold on their oppressed nation. But the resulting liberation of the Hebrew slaves was not an emancipation but rather a transfer of ownership. 

They had belonged to Pharaoh, whom the Egyptians regarded as a god, and had to do Pharaoh’s will. Now they belong to the one true God and have to do God’s will. They were now his people, and he was their God — and a jealous God at that. 

The Law God handed down on Mount Sinai revealed what their true divine master required of anyone who wanted to belong to his Chosen People. 

What the ancient Passover celebrated for a single nation, Jesus fulfilled, transcended and extended to the entire human race. This New Passover instituted by Jesus at the Last Supper in today’s second reading was followed by the death of the firstborn of all creation, the Son of God himself, which was the awful price paid to break Satan’s stranglehold on every nation, not just Israel. 

Moreover, our liberation by Jesus was not a transfer of ownership — he really set us free. But we won’t stay free for long unless we use that freedom as God intends, embracing the salvation Jesus offers us and living according to God’s will as Jesus has revealed it to us. If we do so, we become his very body, so intimately united to Jesus that when he embraces his cross, we embrace our cross with him — when he dies, we die with him, and so having died with him, he promises that we will share in his resurrection as well.

Jesus offers up his body and blood today in every Eucharist, which is the sacrament of his death to self and enduring presence among us, and he invites us to join our own sacrifice of self to his, offering up our body and blood to the Father, from the same altar, united to that of Jesus. 

In John’s version of the Last Supper in today’s Gospel, Jesus washes the feet of his disciples to remind us that the union we claim with Jesus is genuine only if it leads to a life of humble service. Not just a good moral life and a few good deeds here and there, but rather an entire life lived in such a way that humble service has become second nature to us — which we rejoice to see so clearly in the life and example of Pope Francis. 

This certainly applies to the priesthood which Jesus institutes today saying “do this in remembrance of me.”  But his message is not just for priests: it applies to all of us, because by saying, “Amen,” which is Hebrew for “I agree” (not merely “I believe”) at the end of the Eucharistic Prayer, you also agree to unite your self, your body and blood, to that of Jesus offered to the Father from this altar. 

Your “Amen” does not merely acknowledge the truth of the words of the just recited Eucharistic Prayer, as if faith mainly had to do with what we think. No, faith is also a commitment to act, a response of your whole self, and in particular, your will. By saying “Amen,” you agree to do God’s will in all things, putting God’s agenda ahead of your own. “God willing! ¡Primero Dios! Inshallah!”

Bishop Anthony B. Taylor delivered this homily on Holy Thursday, April 17.

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Dear Dave, 
I’m 26, so I haven’t had time to accumulate a lot of money yet through my career. I do have a good, full-time job, though, and have started saving money. Do I need a will or trust when I’m so young and have so little in terms of assets? 
Alisha 

Dear Alisha, 
I love the fact that you’re already thinking about things like this. You’re a wise young lady.

Considering that you’re young and just starting out, you don’t need anything complicated in place. Trusts tend to be geared toward people with complex estates, so it doesn’t sound like that’s something you need to worry about. But you do need a simple, inexpensive will.

You didn’t give many details, so let’s say you have a car, along with the money in the bank you mentioned, plus a few belongings. With a basic will, it’ll be no problem to work through your estate and follow your directives if something unfortunate should happen. Here’s something else to think about, too. Another important document you’ll want in your will package is a healthcare power of attorney directive. This includes things like who’s going to make medical decisions for you if you’re unable to make them yourself. As a part of this, you’d also want to fill out the paperwork on whether to disconnect life support systems in the event you’re in a coma.

All this stuff’s a real wake-up call, right? I know these kinds of things aren’t fun to think about—especially at your age. But thinking about them, and doing something about them, is the right thing to do. It’s the smart thing to do. Plus, it will take a huge burden off your loved ones. And all this becomes even more important if you have children, because the state will step in and decide what happens to them if you don’t. 

Having these things laid out ahead of time, and sharing them with your family and close friends, would be a very thoughtful and mature thing to do, Alisha. Think about it. They’re already going to be grieving and distraught if something happens to you. You don’t want to make things harder by leaving a lot of important and difficult decisions for them to make in the middle of it all.  
— Dave 

Dave Ramsey is a bestselling author, personal finance expert and host of The Ramsey Show.

If you’ve taken basic psychology, you know that birth order influences how we see ourselves and is a factor in sibling rivalry. 

There are many exceptions, but the usual pattern is for the oldest child to be the responsible one. He has two goals: to win his parents’ approval and to dominate his other siblings. The second child’s two goals are to get his parents’ attention (which is not necessarily the same thing as approval) and to get out from under the thumb of #1. 

The other children have birth order issues as well. How do you parent children this diverse? There’s only one way: you love them all unconditionally. Each one has his issues, but you love them all just the same. And notice that love is not about approval of their behavior, which you may or may not like. Love is about their value to you as a person, regardless of their behavior.

In today’s Gospel of the Prodigal Son, we have a story of birth order, sibling rivalry and unconditional love. True to form, the older son slaved on the farm to win his father’s approval, never disobeying any of his orders, while the #2 son did some really bad things. 

First, he asked for his inheritance early — symbolically telling his Dad to drop dead: that’s when you get an inheritance — when your parents die. Notice he didn’t want his father; he wanted the money. Once his father transferred title to half of his own hard-earned property to him, he then sold it out from under him, took the money and skipped town, leaving no forwarding address. 

Yet, despite the hurt, his father still loves him and longs to have him back safe and sound, no matter what. Once he hit bottom, having debased himself so thoroughly that even eating pig slop sounded good to him, he finally came to his senses. 

When he returned home, willing now to be his father’s servant and spend the rest of his life making amends, the father ran out to meet him, forgave him everything and threw a party to welcome home this son who had wished him dead and squandered half his property. The boy was back home alive, and the father couldn’t be more relieved.

But the good older brother was not relieved — he felt defrauded and was furious. He had slaved for years to earn his father’s approval but read between the lines: this older son is self-serving too. He obeys because he wants to inherit the farm. His brother had already cashed in his half of the property and now he expects that all of the remaining estate will one day be his. So the finest robe, the ring, the shoes, the fatted calf, the wine and the food of the welcome home party were all taken from what he, the older son, stood to inherit, and he resented it. 

Notice that this loving father has two selfish sons on his hands. So now he swallows hard and goes out to the field to reassure him that, yes, he’ll still get to keep the farm. He says, “Everything I have is yours,” but don’t be so small, this is your brother! We know that the younger son came to his senses and returned home, but the story ends without us ever finding out what the older son decides to do. 

You and I begin every Mass by acknowledging that we are sinners, wayward children of a loving Father who forgives us and throws this banquet for us. But in our case, it’s no mere fatted calf that is killed; it’s his Only Begotten Son. The wine and food are, in fact, his body and blood, which makes us blood brothers and sisters to each other. 

We exchange a sign of peace and mutual acceptance, which is the price of admission to this banquet of God’s unconditional love. Mass is not an awards banquet for the righteous; it is a hospital for people with wounded souls — often self-inflicted spiritual wounds, and thus a place of healing for sinners, whether our selfishness resembles that of the older son or the younger son, or both.

God is throwing a banquet and wants to see his Church packed with returning prodigals, our brothers and sisters. And we have a choice: rejection or compassion, a choice that may well determine whether we get admitted to the banquet ourselves. By the measure we measure, we will be measured.

Bishop Anthony B. Taylor delivered this homily March 30.

For five years, between 1988 and 1993, I was the priest the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City sent to parishes that had unexpected vacancies due to the death or illness of their pastor. 

In one of these parishes, there were conflicts among the employees, so I had to develop policies for handling personnel problems, including discipline and termination. But what was amazing was that once they knew the rules and what their job expectations were — and the consequences of non-compliance — most of them got with the program right away. 

I did have to write one employee up, but in a way, she was actually relieved. She said, “I really thought you were trying to get rid of me!” To which I replied: “No, I’m just trying to get you to do your job — and to let the other employees do theirs!” 

Once she knew what had to change and the consequence of not doing so, she went and did it — and she continued to be employed by the parish for many more years.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells his hearers they have to change or face the consequences. He reminds them of two recent tragedies: 1) Pilate’s massacre of worshippers at the temple, and 2) the 18 killed in the collapse of a building in Jerusalem. 

People generally thought that if bad things happened, the victims probably deserved it somehow. Jesus says, That’s not how it works. But for the grace of God, it could just as well have been you. Do you think they were greater sinners than you just “because they suffered these things? Certainly not!” 

Indeed, if tragedy is punishment for sin, then “you will all come to the same end unless you reform.” Jesus is writing them up, putting them on notice, telling them what will happen if they don’t make the necessary changes. And what is true regarding conversion from sin also applies to the requirement that we produce fruit worthy of the Lord. 

In business, it’s not enough that employees avoid bad behavior; they can also be terminated for failing to produce, failing to meet their quotas. In the second half of today’s Gospel, Jesus uses his parable of the Barren Fig Tree to say that we’d better produce. 

A man had a fig tree that produced nothing and so was probably barren. They really should just cut it down —  terminate it — and plant another, but they decide to give it one last chance. They will fertilize it and give it special care, but if, after one more year, it still doesn’t produce, they’ll have to cut it down for sure. Good farmland is too valuable to leave cluttered with non-producing plants.

Jesus’ teachings here apply directly to the goals and purpose of Lent: that we reform our lives and begin to produce good fruit worthy of the Lord. The Kingdom of God is open to everyone, but there are standards, conditions of membership. 

Jesus’ hope is that once we know the rules and what the job expectations are — and the consequences of non-compliance — that we’ll get with the program right away. But if we’re slow to respond, Jesus may have to write us up. He gives us chances to change our behavior, puts us on notice in an effort to get our attention, gives us special care in the hope that we will finally begin to produce. 

Do you know what needs to change in your life? That employee I wrote up didn’t have a clue. It was obvious to everyone but her. Oftentimes, we really don’t know what needs to change until we spend some time thinking about it — and that is what Lent is for. Are there sinful behaviors that you’ve just sort of made your peace with, knowing full well that these deeds or attitudes are not worthy of the Lord? Think about it! 

Are there things in your past that you bitterly regret, for which you need God’s forgiveness? Or things in the present that you still need to set right? Today’s Gospel tells us what will happen if we don’t make the necessary changes. We will all come to a bad end unless we reform. 

What kind of fruit is your life producing right now? Is it fruit that you’d be proud to present to the Lord on Judgment Day? Is it the fruit of kindness, compassion, generosity and self-sacrifice? Or the fruit of pride, jealousy, greed and selfishness? Jesus says, “By their fruits you shall know them.” Lent is a time for us to look inside and ask ourselves these kinds of questions.

Bishop Anthony B. Taylor delivered this homily March 23. 

Dear Dave,
On your show, you’re always talking about accumulating piles of cash. I’ve gone to church my entire life, and I know for a fact the Bible says not to lay up treasures on earth. Doesn’t that mean we shouldn’t be greedy or accumulate wealth?
Lawrence

Dear Lawrence,
The Bible also says in Proverbs that in the house of the wise there are stores of choice food and oil. I appreciate your concern, but when I talk about “piles of cash,” my frame of reference is that we’re to handle our money and other possessions for good and for God. It’s not about greed, or to show off or to use it just to buy bigger and better things for ourselves.

If you look back through scripture, you’ll find many of the Bible’s major characters were wealthy people, who understood they were not the owners of the money and wealth. They understood God owned it all, and their job was to manage it all properly for God’s glory.

But here’s the thing. You can’t do good if you don’t have the resources to do good.
— Dave

Dave Ramsey is a bestselling author, personal finance expert and host of The Ramsey Show.

There is no part of the world exempt from disasters. We have tornados, droughts and wildfires like in California. Other places have hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanoes and mudslides, and these are just the natural disasters.

The worst disasters are those caused by humans, for instance, war, persecution, genocide, racism, ethnic conflict and economic exploitation, unjust laws and plane crashes. But as we see in the Scriptures, Jesus is more powerful than any disaster. 

In today’s Gospel it is a natural disaster that threatens. His disciples had been fishermen and so they were very familiar with storms on the Sea of Galilee, but this storm was more than even they could handle, and they used boats for a living. But it wasn’t more than Jesus could handle. When all hope seemed to be lost, he stood up and calmed the storm.

No person who lives long enough makes it through this life without eventually having to face storms too powerful for us to handle on our own. Some of these are personal disasters that are more devastating than anything nature could ever send our way. Don’t raise your hands, but how many of you have ever been through a stormy divorce or been a victim of an abusive parent? Have you ever felt trapped and alone and powerless? At the mercy of the winds, so to speak. 

How many of you have someone you love who is mentally ill or addicted to drugs or alcohol? How many of you have not-yet-healed inner wounds caused by sins that you yourself committed and now regret bitterly? I could give you a long list of painful situations. But you are Women of Hope, the theme of this retreat, and so I can proclaim to you that Jesus is more powerful than any storm you will ever have to face.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus was apparently so tired that it looked like he was going to just sleep right through the storm that was about to capsize their boat, so his disciples woke him, shouting: Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?

As it turns out, not only did he care, but he was also able to do something about it. He calmed that storm because calming that storm served God’s purposes. His disciples discovered something new about Jesus. They were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this whom even the wind and sea obey?” But Jesus will not calm every storm because sometimes it is the storm itself that serves God’s purposes. 

That’s the mystery of the cross. Most of the disciples saved that day from drowning will one day die a martyr’s death, perish in a different kind of storm, but a storm, nonetheless.

When we embrace suffering that serves God’s purposes, the sacrifices we have to make may be very great and even tragic, but unlike other storms, these storms that are the price of faithfulness do not lead to disaster — far from it! 

When you embrace with love and hope and trust whatever cross God has picked out specifically for you, that cross becomes redemptive — in your own life and in the lives of others. As we see in today’s Gospel, sometimes it serves God’s purposes to calm storms when we cry out to him for help. 

But there are also plenty of other times when the storm itself serves God’s purposes and faithfulness to him requires us simply to embrace that cross with love. 

Bishop Anthony B. Taylor delivered this homily at the Women of Hope conference Feb. 1.

I’m sure you’ve all seen the Energizer Bunny, the pink bunny that keeps on beating his drum long after all the other batteries have lost their charge. What they don’t say is that any battery will fail eventually unless it is recharged. 

All the time the bunny is running the battery inside discharges its stored energy and gradually becomes weaker. You can’t tell it at first because the energy output remains the same, but put it in a battery tester and you’ll see how much charge it has left. Eventually, you’ll have to shut that bunny down and recharge its battery.

In today’s Gospel Jesus realizes that he and his disciples need to get their batteries recharged. 

By the time we reach the sixth chapter in Mark’s Gospel, peace and quiet had already become a rare commodity: “People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat.” So Jesus invites them to go with him across the lake “to a deserted place and rest awhile.” Recharge their batteries. 

But people figured out where they were going and were waiting for them when they arrived on the other shore. Despite his fatigue, Jesus took pity on them and taught them many things. So much for getting a little rest. Notice, however, that Jesus recognizes how important it is to step back from the activity of daily life and rest a bit, get recharged physically and spiritually. Spend time in quiet prayer. Spend time with friends.

One of the biggest mistakes many people make — I as much as anyone — is to give ourselves over to a life of ceaseless activity. Many people feel compelled to do something productive every waking hour, ignoring our need for decent meals and a good night’s rest, ignoring our need for quiet time alone with God and for rest and relaxation with family and friends. 

This is an easy trap to fall into. I remember as a young priest being struck with how many needs there are out there and so I’d skip days off, skimp on sleep, not really take time for meals. I did lots of daily prayer activity: Masses and quiet prayer time every day, but I had a hard time getting quiet and feeling focused. Homily preparation began to feel like doing a term paper every week — work not prayer. I knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. 

Jesus may have kept that kind of pace, but he’s the Savior, not me. And anyway, I’m in this for the long haul  —  Jesus didn’t have to worry about burnout; his public ministry lasted only three years. 

I realized something had to change. So what I did was gradually increase my silent prayer from 20 minutes (which I had done since 11th grade) to an hour each day, adding five minutes each month until I got up to an hour. This daily holy hour got me back on the right track, and I have continued to have a daily holy hour ever since. It’s like recharging my batteries every morning. 

What is most amazing is that the more time I spend resting with the Lord, the less time it takes to do everything else. It’s almost like stopping the clock for an hour or having a 25-hour day; the hour “wasted” with the Lord is not an hour lost. Everything that needs to get done still gets done. I’m much better focused, use my time better the rest of the day. 

Is this an issue in your life too? Do you often feel like the Energizer Bunny? We are very achievement-oriented, and I know some of you have lots of irons in the fire. Perhaps Jesus is inviting you to chill a little, “to come with him to an out of the way place and rest a little” — to recharge your batteries, a daily holy hour, or maybe initially a daily “holy 10 minutes.” 

Every one of us ought to be able to set aside 10 minutes a day for prayer. And then you might try adding five more minutes each month until you work up to an hour. If you’re in this for the long haul, you’ll need to shut that bunny down daily and recharge the batteries.

Bishop Anthony B. Taylor delivered this homily Feb. 8 for the Arkansas Catholic Men’s Conference. 

Dear Dave,
One of my cousins just discovered she has cancer. She’s a single mom with two young kids, and it doesn’t sound like she has thought much about the future. What are the best steps she can take financially at this point to make sure her family is protected?
Jacki

Dear Jacki,
I’m truly sorry to hear about this. A cancer diagnosis is a scary thing, so please remember to pray for her and be there for her all you can.

Most of the time when folks ask if a person has their affairs in order, they’re usually referring to a few different questions. First, are you right with God? Then, do you have life insurance and will? Another important thing is having all the paperwork of your life organized and in a safe location, so someone you trust can handle the details in a worst case scenario.

Everyone should have good term life insurance in place. My advice is to have a policy worth 10 to 12 times your annual income. When it comes to a will, make sure it’s state-specific. Probate and estate regulations aren’t federal laws, they’re state laws. So, any will should be drawn up according to guidelines for the state in which you live.

It’s probably the hardest thing to think about, I know, but arrangements should be made for any minor children. Sitting down to talk with two or three trusted family members, or close friends, to decide who will take them if the worst should happen is a good idea, too. Whoever is chosen for this responsibility should be a person who’s incredibly mature, caring and willing to love and raise these kids as if they were their very own.

Good luck, Jacki. I know this is a difficult time for your whole family. Be there for each other, pray a lot and hug on one another all you can. God bless you all.

— Dave

Dave Ramsey is a national bestselling author, personal finance expert and host of The Ramsey Show.