The Gospel recounts one of our Lord’s sharpest rebukes of the scribes and Pharisees: “They do all their deeds to be seen by men.” Their fault was not simply hypocrisy, but the fact that even good actions had become a means of seeking admiration rather than glorifying God. Christ’s words invite us to examine not only what we do, but why we do it. Every Christian is called to perform his daily duties with the desire to please God rather than to win praise from others. That is the essence of rectitude of intention: allowing the glory of God, rather than our own reputation, to become the guiding motive of our lives.
At first sight this may seem impossible. How can we consciously praise God throughout the entire day while absorbed in work, family responsibilities and countless ordinary occupations? St. Augustine answers this question with characteristic simplicity. Whatever you do, do it well, and you will have praised God. Singing a hymn glorifies him directly, but so does honest work, patience with difficult people, fidelity to one’s duties and integrity in ordinary affairs. The Christian does not alternate between serving God and living the rest of life. Rather, the whole of life becomes an act of worship when it is lived in his presence and offered back to him.
This vision lies at the heart of the Christian understanding of work. We strive to integrate all the different parts of our lives into a genuine unity. Prayer, work, family life, friendships, recreation and apostolate are not separate compartments competing for our attention. They all belong to the same vocation. We do not leave God behind when we enter the office, the classroom, the workshop or the home. Instead, each task becomes another opportunity to love him. Even the most routine responsibilities acquire lasting significance when they are united to him through a sincere intention.
St. Josemaría frequently reminded us that our work should never become a means of feeding ambition or vanity. Many people seek honours, influence, wealth or prestige through their profession. None of these things is evil in itself, but they become dangerous when they become our principal motivation. As children of God, we approach work from a different perspective. We see in it an opportunity to serve others, develop the talents God has entrusted to us and contribute to the common good. Professional excellence is therefore not pursued for self-glorification but because love demands that we offer our very best.
Our daily work also places us in contact with countless people whom God has entrusted to our care. Professional relationships, friendships and ordinary conversations often become the natural setting for apostolate. St. Josemaría observed that one measure of the right intention in our work is the way we use these relationships to draw others closer to God. Competence and professional credibility become, as he liked to say, the fisherman’s hook. We do not cultivate friendships merely to increase our influence, but genuine friendship often opens hearts to the Gospel in a way that formal preaching never could. If our work never awakens in us any concern for the spiritual welfare of those around us, we should ask whether we have forgotten one of its deepest purposes.
The greatest obstacle to this supernatural outlook is vainglory. We all appreciate being thanked, recognized and encouraged. Gratitude strengthens relationships, and it is perfectly natural to enjoy it. The difficulty begins when the approval of others gradually becomes necessary for our happiness. We start measuring our value by compliments, promotions or public recognition. We become discouraged when our efforts go unnoticed and irritated when someone else receives the credit. St. Josemaría therefore insisted that we do not live for our own honour but for God’s honour. We have given our lives to him, and with them we have surrendered our supposed right to constant appreciation. Deo omnis gloria—all glory to God—is not simply a beautiful motto but a practical principle that frees us from slavery to the opinions of others.
The danger of vanity is especially subtle because it attaches itself to good works. St. John Chrysostom compares it to a thief who steals heavenly treasures without our noticing. A person may perform generous acts, pray faithfully or dedicate himself to apostolic work while quietly nourishing the hope that others will admire him. The work remains objectively good, yet its spiritual fruit is diminished because self has begun to occupy the place that belongs to God. This explains why St. Josemaría so often repeated the simple advice: “Rectify, rectify.” Whenever we discover that human motives have begun to dominate our actions, we need not become discouraged. We simply turn our heart back toward God and begin again.
The Fathers of the Church understood that pride can even disguise itself as humility. St. Jerome warns us not to seek attention by appearing unusually pious or by cultivating an exaggerated image of simplicity. It is possible to flee from one kind of glory only to seek another. Genuine humility does not consist in pretending that we have no gifts or abilities. Rather, it consists in recognizing that whatever is good in us has ultimately been received from God. We neither deny his gifts nor claim ownership of them. We acknowledge them gratefully and seek to use them faithfully.
Sacred Scripture provides a beautiful illustration of this attitude in the conduct of Joab, David’s commander. After bringing a city almost to the point of surrender, he summoned King David to complete the victory so that the city would bear the king’s name rather than his own. Joab was content that the honour should belong elsewhere. The Christian should cultivate the same spirit. Whenever something succeeds through our efforts, we instinctively return the glory to God. The ancient words of the Psalm become our own prayer: Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam—not to us, Lord, but to your name give glory.
This humility is not merely personal; it also has a collective dimension. Christian communities, apostolic initiatives and institutions must resist the temptation to seek prominence for themselves. St. Josemaría insisted that we do not work to build our own reputation but to place Christ at the summit of human activities. Whether the surrounding culture applauds the Church or opposes her should make no difference to our fidelity. At certain moments it may be fashionable to identify oneself as a Christian; at other times it may bring misunderstanding or hostility. Neither circumstance should determine our conduct. Our concern is not whether we ourselves receive honour, but whether Christ is known and loved.
This collective humility requires a genuine spirit of service. St. Josemaría spoke of cultivating a holy ambition: the desire to be “last in everything and first in love.” This paradox expresses the logic of the Gospel. Christians do not renounce ambition altogether; rather, ambition is purified and redirected. We seek to love God more deeply, to serve others more generously and to make Christ known more effectively. Positions of responsibility, honours or influence are accepted only insofar as they enable us to fulfil that mission better. They cease to be prizes to be won and become responsibilities to be carried.
Such an outlook also transforms the way we look at success and failure. If we are working primarily for our own glory, success inflates our pride and failure wounds our self-esteem. But when our work is offered to God, both success and failure take their proper place. Success becomes an occasion for gratitude rather than self-congratulation, while failure becomes an opportunity for humility, perseverance and renewed trust. We remain eager to improve our work, learn from our mistakes and pursue excellence, yet our peace no longer depends upon visible results because our deepest purpose remains unchanged.
None of us possesses perfectly pure intentions. Even our best actions are often mixed with a desire for recognition or personal satisfaction. This should not surprise us. The purification of intention is the work of a lifetime. We gradually learn to notice when self has begun to occupy too much space and gently redirect our hearts toward God. Before beginning a task, during moments of difficulty and after completing it, we can renew the simple offering: “Lord, this is for you.” These quiet acts of rectification slowly reshape the whole of our lives.
Our Lady provides the perfect example of this purity of heart. In the Magnificat she openly acknowledges the extraordinary gifts she has received, yet immediately attributes everything to God: “He who is mighty has done great things for me.” Her life never revolves around herself. At Cana she notices the needs of others, and then she directs everyone’s attention to her Son: “Do whatever he tells you.” She teaches us that true humility does not consist in hiding God’s gifts but in allowing them always to point back to their source.
Let us ask her to obtain for us the grace of working with the right intention. We want to carry out our responsibilities well, use our talents generously and strive for professional excellence, but never because we seek admiration or prestige. We want our work to become a means of serving others, building up the Church and giving glory to God. If we frequently renew that intention throughout the day, even the most ordinary duties will become acts of love, and we shall gradually discover the freedom and joy that belong to those who seek, above all else, the glory of God.
By the Via Virtutis team
Photo by Mikhail Mamaev on Unsplash
