Beyond Soft Robes: The Call of the Cross

Sep 17, 2025

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been praying with the Gospel of Matthew through the practice of Lectio Divina.

In Matthew 11 Jesus speaks about soft robes (Matt 11:8). He is not condemning beauty or creation, but exposing the danger of comfort when it becomes our end. The Gospel is not a call to ease, prestige, or the securing of earthly safety. It is a call to discipleship under the Cross. As He Himself says elsewhere, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Mt 16:24).

To follow Christ is to be detached from the false promises of luxury. Our culture, and especially the algorithms that shape so much of what we see online, constantly suggest that happiness is found in greater comfort, endless convenience, and a perfectly curated lifestyle. Yet these promises never deliver what they hold out. The Catechism reminds us that the beatitudes “respond to the natural desire for happiness” but redirect it, showing us that true joy is found in God alone, not in wealth or pleasure (CCC 1716–1720). The reality is that sanctity cannot be conceived without heroism. Grace presses us to generosity and to accepting the the weighty demands of Christian discipleship.

Today it is clear that material comfort often brings restlessness rather than peace. Houses may be full of possessions yet empty of love, and lives may be surrounded by abundance yet lacking meaning. Jesus unmasks this illusion. Soft robes belong in kings’ houses, but the King of Kings chose a manger and a cross.

When I was contemplating this text, I could not help but to think of Charles de Foucauld. A man of privilege and wealth, he abandoned it all to live hidden with Christ among the poor of the Sahara. He sought not comfort, but the imitation of Jesus’ humility. Like Christ, he chose obscurity, silence, and service over recognition. His life testifies that poverty embraced for love of Christ is not deprivation, but freedom. He once wrote: “Imitate Jesus in His hidden life… lose yourself in Him.”

The Gospel demands courage. But this path is not grim. It is the way of beatitude: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 5:3). Paradoxically, the more we let go, the more space God has to fill our lives with meaning. This is why saints like Charles de Foucauld radiated joy: their strength came not from possessions but from the One who possessed them.

In the end, this verse invites us to see where our hearts truly rest. Christ chose poverty, humility, and the cross. If we dare to ask which soft robes we cling to, we will discover how easily comforts and securities hold us back from trusting Him completely. In prayer, we can ask for the grace to embrace the cross not as a burden, but as the path to freedom. And in silence, we can simply remain with Christ, poor and crucified, who is Himself the treasure beyond all riches.