Somehow — I’m still not exactly sure how this happened but it might have been an act of God — my wife talked me into going to the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception on Labor Day weekend to watch the unveiling of a Mother Teresa postage stamp. I thought it would be a 20-minute presser but everyone went all Full-Court Catholic for the occasion, with a multi-hour Mass and a ceremony that included choirs and big-shot church and postal officials (an odd combination, that).

I walked out of there in a less-than-good mood, not only for spending half a beautiful summer day at a postage stamp ceremony, but also because I was struggling with the irony of honoring so much humility amid so much excess.

I’d never been in the church before Sunday. That was odd, considering it is the area’s big shrine of the religion of my birth and heritage. The place, as you might expect, is all gold leaf and fantastic artwork and lots of Jesus and Mary, including an enormous mural behind the altar of the scariest Jesus I’ve ever seen. Staring down at me all through the ceremony was Angry Jesus, Get-In-Line Jesus, I’m-Crushing-Your-Head Jesus. I could definitely see how the right priest and the right sermon against that backdrop could scare…well, the living Jesus out of me.

In addition, beautiful little chapels fill every little nook and cranny of the lower floor, along with a second basement church of absolutely jaw-dropping gorgeousness, and there is wall after wall covered with the engraved names of donors.

And that brings me back to Mother Teresa. Amid this projection of wealth and authority was an event honoring a woman who dedicated her life to the humble and poor. She walked the walk for more than half a century — most of it amid her little-known doubts of her own faith.

I can’t even imagine the fortitude it must have taken to do that. I also can’t help but wonder what she would have thought of this whole event. After all, gold leaf is expensive but merely costs money; compassion is free but takes effort to give.

I don’t pretend to know all the rules, but I’m thinking that the latter is a lot better than the former if you want to swing open Heaven’s door.