This week I have been reading and reflecting on Adrienne von Speyr’s wonderful book Handmaid of the Lord.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3).
In Mary, the Mother of God, this beatitude finds its perfect expression. Her poverty of spirit is not a lack but an abundance—a quiet, hidden fullness of God that draws her away from attachment to worldly things, even while affirming their goodness as God’s creation. In Mary, we see a soul utterly free, entirely disposed to God, and deeply immersed in the mystery of His love.
This spiritual poverty begins with solitude—Mary’s complete solitude with God in prayer. In the hidden places of her heart, she is separated from all creatures, not because they lack worth, but because she recognizes their ultimate origin and destiny. Every created thing holds meaning for Mary because she sees it through the eyes of faith, as a gift from the Creator. Her gaze penetrates beyond the created good to behold the Giver, and this recognition transforms her love for the world. She loves not for her own sake but for God’s, returning all to Him in gratitude and praise.
Saints like Catherine of Siena, Thérèse of Lisieux, Charles de Foucauld, and Elisabeth Leseur shared in this grace—a profound ability to see creation as imbued with God’s love. They recognized, as Mary did, that everything God has made flows from His creative love and seeks to return to Him. To see creation in this way is to see it as it truly is: a reflection of the One who is love itself. This perspective frees the soul from grasping at earthly things, enabling it instead to offer them back to God with gratitude.
Consider Thérèse of Lisieux, who spoke of her “little way” as one of trust and surrender to God’s providence. Her poverty of spirit led her to see each small act of love, each hidden sacrifice, as a gift to God. Or Saint Charles de Foucauld, who embraced the poverty of Christ by living among the poorest in the desert, finding the face of God in those who were forgotten by the world. These saints, like Mary, understood that the highest wealth lies in this poverty of spirit—a total surrender to God and an unreserved trust in His love.
To live in this way is to love with the love of God. When God entrusts us with a “Thou”—a person, a relationship, or any part of His creation—we are called to recognize it as His gift and return it to Him through our love. This is the essence of reparation and intercession: to stand before God on behalf of others, offering them back to Him in prayer and sacrifice. It is a participation in Christ’s own love, which seeks not His own glory but the salvation and sanctification of the world.
Mary teaches us this posture of spiritual poverty. She shows us how to love others not for what they can give us, but as reflections of God’s love and as beings created for Him. She teaches us to see the world through the lens of gratitude, to recognize God’s fingerprints in every person, every moment, every gift. This vision transforms our interactions with others, allowing us to see Christ in them and to reveal Christ to them through our love.
It is in this spiritual poverty that we find the fullness of God. When we are emptied of self—of our need to possess, control, or seek fulfillment in created things—we make room for God to dwell in us. This poverty is not a deprivation but a liberation—a freedom, a stripping away of everything that hinders our communion with Him. In this freedom, we can love others, serve them without reserve, and see in them the image of the Creator.
This is the secret of Mary’s poverty of spirit and the wealth it brings. It is a path of humility, surrender, and love that leads to the heart of God. May we, like Mary, learn to live in this poverty, trusting that it is only in becoming poor in spirit that we truly possess the riches of the kingdom of heaven.