The Pearl of Great Price

“Be sensible!” “Just stop and think.” “Use the brain the good Lord gave you.”

We have all heard that kind of advice at some time or another. And most likely, we have also given that advice to someone else, perhaps to a young person about to make a foolish decision. When I was pastor of the university parish in Fayetteville, I spent a fair amount of my time talking with young people, counseling them, and especially encouraging them to be measured and sensible in their decisions. A lot of harm can be avoided if you approach the things of life carefully and deliberately.

There are times, however, when being bold and decisive is in fact the sensible thing to do. The parables of Jesus that we just heard in the Gospel are a good example. For someone to sell all that they have in order to buy a field would be a rash and foolish thing to do – unless one knows that a great treasure is buried within it. For a merchant to sell all that he has in order to buy a single pearl would be crazy – unless he knows that pearl is worth more than anything else. Jesus’s point in these parables is that when we find the pearl of great price, the buried treasure, the thing in life that is *most* important, then we must act boldly and decisively to obtain it, even if it appears to others as if we are acting foolishly.

The Pearl of Great Price (c. 2006) by Daniel Bonnell (bonnellart.com)

But what is that pearl, that treasure? Clearly, it’s not something that is valuable in worldly terms, according to earthly ways of thinking, since it relates to the kingdom of heaven. We can throw out then the different goals and objectives that so often dominate our decision-making: material wealth and security; success in our occupation or career; the esteem of friends and loved ones; a life well-lived, free from sorrow and suffering, full of health and blessing. These are attractive things, and maybe even good to a certain degree, but they are things that everyone clearly wants. But, as Jesus says, the treasure of the kingdom of God, the pearl of great price, is *not* something that everyone appreciates, or understands, or even recognizes is there at all.

No, there must be something else – something that, when we find it and pursue it, will make perfect sense to us, but may well seem foolish to others. What is that? God’s will; that is, the particular will that God has for us as individuals – the purpose for which he has created each of us. Ultimately, he desires that we spend eternity with him, in his eternal kingdom; that is the reason why we exist, that is the reason why there is creation at all. But he has also created us individually for a particular purpose, a design unique to us by which we can glorify him and attain the life of heaven. If we ignore that purpose, or fail to identify at all, then we risk not attaining salvation and eternal life altogether.

To seek God’s will, we first must have an active relationship with him: in prayer and in the sacraments. Second, we find his purpose in the choices we make. Often these choices may seem very mundane: how we spend our time, with whom we associate, how we carry out our daily responsibilities and tasks. But in each of them, we should ask ourselves: “Am I pursuing the kingdom of God, or something lesser? Am I searching for the pearl of great price, or have I settled for something else?”

Sometimes, our lives present us with pivotal moments in pursuing the will of God – a fork in the road, so to speak, which makes all the difference for our future. Often we see this in the lives of the saints. Saint Ignatius of Loyola, for example, whose feast is this coming Friday, was once a soldier, with dreams of living a life of great military success and worldly glory; but after being injured, he underwent a period of discernment in which he heard the voice of God calling him to leave all of that and enter religious life, from which he eventually founded the Society of Jesus. Blessed Stanley Rother, a more recent figure from our tradition whose feast we also celebrate this week, was a priest and missionary in Guatemala in the early ‘80s. When his ministry to the people ran afoul of the authoritarian regime, he learned that his name had been added to the army’s death list and he had to flee the country. But after spending a few months back in his home state of Oklahoma, he decided in the end to return to Guatemala. He said that the shepherd does not run from the flock in the face of danger, and it was for that belief that he was assassinated and eventually declared a martyr for the faith.

Fr. Stanley Rother in 1981, a few months before he returned to Guatemala, where he was martyred.

The choice of St. Ignatius and the decision of Fr. Rother aren’t sensible according to a worldly way of thinking. Indeed, they may even seem foolish. But they *were* precisely what God desired for them – it was their path to holiness, their path to heaven. You and I have a responsibility to take up that same search for God’s will, and to educate and form our young people to do the same. You who are parents or grandparents, godparents or aunts and uncles, teachers and educators, catechists, coaches, and the like – you have an influence on what the youth of today will value. The world will teach them to seek those attractive but mundane, earthly things: prosperity, achievement, health and good fortune, etc. Or you can teach them there is a greater search to be undertaken, a greater treasure to be pursued: God’s will, unique to their life, their own pearl of great price to be discovered. Please don't discount the critical role you have in shaping the values, and molding the hearts, of the young people in your life!

Friends, what we all need, in the end, is what Solomon asks for in the first reading: wisdom – that is, the capacity to see our lives as God sees them and to understand our decisions as he does. Our lives may not feature moments of decision as dramatic as St. Ignatius and Bl. Stanley; but in their own way, our own choices will be no less important. When we find God’s unique purpose that we are called to fulfill – the treasure unknown to others, the pearl of great price – we must be bold and decisive in pursuing it with everything we have even if, according to the ways of the world, our choices may seem foolish.

May this Eucharist, our greatest spiritual treasure, nourish and strengthen our faith that we too may search and discover the pearl of great price, the eternal life of God’s kingdom.

Weeds and Seeds

Since ancient times, people have observed how the world around us changes. And through observations, they have learned nature has within it a certain pattern, a logic. For example, the seasons change so that the physical world can blossom, flower, and then be renewed to begin the cycle over again. The human person is born, matures, and dies in order to make way for the next generation. Such are the rhythms of the natural world.

In the Gospel today, Jesus uses three analogies from the physical world to help us better understand the workings of the kingdom of God. Like the natural world, the spiritual world has a logic by which it operates. But often, it is quiet, even hidden from our view. The tiny mustard seed turns into the large plant; a bit of yeast leavens the whole dough. In the same way, the kingdom of God is a reality present among us – unseen at the moment perhaps, but powerful nonetheless, and one which will one day be visible to all.

As Christians, we are called to work for this changing of the world, especially by the promotion of charity and justice. We await in hope the moment when God will finally accomplish it, but we also work to make ever more visible the kingdom of God present among us. But the mystery of the kingdom of God is not just something that will happen for the world as a whole. It is something that *is happening* even now for us as individuals. Just as the natural world operates according to a pattern by which it blossoms and flowers, so too does the Holy Spirit seek to enliven us, that we may flourish according to the purpose he has designed for our life.

Today’s third parable offers us insight into this reality. We can draw various lessons from the parable of the wheat and the weeds: to have patience when we see injustice around us, because God will right all wrongs in the final account; to be aware of the activity of the devil, who seeks to disrupt the work of God and to impede souls from reaching the kingdom; to encourage us to be on guard against sinning and leading others into sin. While all of these are good and worthy lessons, they also are perhaps secondary to the basic point – that, until the final harvest, it is very hard, and perhaps impossible for us, to tell the wheat and the weeds apart.

The Parable of the Weeds Among the Wheat (c. 1600) by Isaac Claesz von Swanenburg (attributed) 

In the natural world, seeds of wheat and of weeds are quite distinct, although they can sometimes appear similar at first. In the spiritual realm, it is perhaps better to think of them as competing principles found within each of us. The seed of wheat is the working of the Holy Spirit within us: to find the Lord’s purpose for our lives at every moment; to be content to follow his will rather than our own; to flourish in the place and the time that he has laid out for us. The weed is the spirit that goes against that: that seeks out our own will and way of doing things and not God’s; that grasps for contentment in anything that satisfies for the moment; that in pride and self-centeredness strains against anything contrary to how we view the world and ourselves.

These two principles – the seed of service, and the weed of selfishness – are found within every heart. It is up to us to choose which we will follow. We do so each day, sometimes in each moment, and by each choice, we allow one principle to become stronger over the other. However, there is always the possibility of change, and this is both a source of hope and of caution. If we are living out of the principle of selfishness and self-centeredness, there is in this life the chance to repent, to be changed into the good wheat – to ask what is the Lord’s will and to do it. For that same reason, the one who lives in service to God and to neighbor must never become lax in doing God’s will, since there is always the danger of giving in in the end to selfishness and presumption. It might be that many whom we might think to be either weeds or wheat will – in the final accounting, in God’s time – show themselves in fact to be the other.

Friends, it is impossible for any of us on our own to become good wheat. But “the Lord is good and forgiving,” and in those areas that we need transformation, “the Spirit comes to aid our weakness.” By opening ourselves to what the Spirit wishes to do with us and within us, we too can play a role in the unfolding of the mystery of the kingdom of God. May the Good Wheat of this Holy Eucharist help us to patiently and perseveringly strive to be counted among the righteous in the final harvest of the Lord’s kingdom.

To Hear the Word

One of the surest ways to win favor with someone is to say what they want to hear. Whether that’s a husband speaking to his wife, or a doctor to her patients, or a politician to their constituents, you can pretty popular if you say what someone else likes.

The problem is, what others want to hear isn’t always true or what they need to hear. Jesus understood that well, and in his preaching, he walked a fine line between being able to capture people’s attention while also telling them what they actually needed to hear. His preaching challenged them, and sometimes even made them confused. This is especially true in his most famous method of preaching, his parables. Jesus was a keen observer of the world around him, and he used examples and experiences of the world around him in his parables. For that reason, Jesus’s parables are immediately accessible – i.e., we don’t have to stretch our minds to grasp the basic meaning – but also continually challenging, defying easy explanations.

We see a great example of this in today’s Gospel. Jesus gives a parable that seems straightforward: a farmer goes out to sow his fields. Simple enough. But the story is also a little strange, right? This farmer sows his seed not just on the rich soil but on other ground as well. I’m sure the farmers of our community could tell us that’s a strange way to behave, and no way to make a profit. Jesus’s parable is clearly aimed at a deeper truth than the obvious one, and he wants us to strive to understand it: “Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

Vincent van Gogh, The Sower (Sower at Sunset) (1888)

We are fortunate that St. Matthew continues his account by telling us that he and the other disciples asked Jesus about this parable, indeed, about why he used parables at all. The Lord’s answer is strange – “Knowledge of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven has been granted to you but to them it has not been granted.” This may seem unfair to us; wouldn’t it be best for everyone to hear God’s word and understand it? We know from experience though that’s not the case. Sometimes people’s circumstances, their human failings, and yes, their sins can prevent them from becoming what God desires them to be. As Scripture shows us, even in Jesus’s own ministry, many heard his word but failed to understand and accept it. What we need to do is make sure we’re not a part of that group that is closed off to his word. God has given us ears – let’s use them to hear!

Jesus warns us of three situations, or attitudes, or states in life that can prevent us from hearing God’s word. The first is ignorance. The seed on the path is the one who is ignorant of God’s word; who can’t understand it, and doesn’t strive to do so. It’s important then that we try to educate ourselves. As Catholics, we have so many riches of our faith and tradition to help us understand the word. One of the very best is the Catechism of the Catholic Church. How many of us have a Catechism? Do we look at it regularly? Do consult it when we have a question about God or faith or morality, or do we try to decide on our own?

The second danger is tribulation. When we first receive God’s word, it can be a joy and a revelation. But inevitably, a test will come: some personal trial, like doubts in prayer or a questioning of faith; a family struggle, like divided relationships; or a moral crisis, that makes us have to really choose whether we are going to act in accord with what we say we believe. When a tribulation like that comes, we have to have deep roots – in believing in God’s goodness, in believing the truth of his word – or else our faith will wither, like seed in rocky ground.

The third hazard is anxiety – concerns over the world and daily life. This is the one that most of us probably should be most on the lookout for, because even people who seek to know God’s word, and seek to have deep roots in trying to accomplish it, can often fall victim to being overcome by worry. There’s no shortage of things to be anxious about, if we choose to: the pandemic, the state of our society, the coming elections, the personal or family crises that I described above, or maybe just the daily grind of work, family, marriage, relationship that can become a struggle. Jesus warns us that if we focus too much on those things, God’s word is going to be choked within us – it will fail to thrive and bear fruit. And notice, too, that Jesus also mentions explicitly “the lure of riches.” The pursuit of wealth, or even of material security, can also present a danger to hearing and acting upon God’s word.

Harvest in Provence (1888) by Vincent van Gogh

Jesus’s parable naturally leads us to consider whether any of these three problematic situations, attitudes, or states apply to us. And if they do then fortunately, unlike regular soil, we can with God’s grace change the state of our own hearts. We can repent, turn our hearts back to God, and start anew in opening ourselves to receive his word. Indeed, that is why he sows the seed of his word so liberally, in the way that no earthly farmer would – because he desires all persons to open their hearts to receive him. The most important thing to do is to what the disciples did – to stay close to Jesus, to keep striving to understand what he wants us to know, and to remain focused on him above all else.

Friends, like the people who heard it long ago, Jesus’s parable challenges us today – not only to interpret it, but to understand that it is precisely what we need to hear. It can be hard to accept the fact that we have become lax in different ways in listening for God’s word: in seeking to understand it, in giving it deep roots in our lives so that we persevere in times of trial, and especially in staying focused on it over and above the worries of the world. But only by realizing where we have gone astray, can we then grow: “Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

May the Lord in this Eucharist help us, as he helped the disciples, to learn a deeper knowledge of the kingdom of heaven, so that our hearts may be cultivated into rich soil, that we may go and bear fruit in the world.

The King's Yoke

Two hundred and forty-four years ago this weekend, fifty-six men signed a document in Philadelphia that declared America’s independence from Great Britain. They did so for a variety of reasons, but in short, they all agreed it was no longer desirable to be subjects of the British king, especially because of the great burdens that came with it: taxation, oppression, and a fundamental inequality of persons.

Fast forward a couple centuries, and the project those Founding Fathers began is still being worked out. Throughout our nation’s history, we have seen how political parties, social movements, and individual persons all have a view about how the United States of America can more equitably deliver on its desire for justice and freedom for all. And these debates and moral causes continue today, whether it’s in relation to issues of structural bias and racism, or to the needs of working families, or to a more just system of immigration, or to the defense of the lives of our most vulnerable persons, unborn children in the womb. In these or in many other ways, freedom and justice for all is still an incomplete reality.

While all of that is important, and important to talk about, today’s Gospel invites us in a different direction: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.” We tend to think of freedom in the way that the American founders did: independence, self-government, the right to pursue one’s own ideal of happiness. While those things can have their place, Jesus points out that what we really yearn for is freedom at a much deeper level: freedom from the burdens of worry and sorrow, freedom from the oppression of sin, freedom from the tyranny of death. We desire peace, in the end, a peace that no earthly power can give. But Jesus can: “Peace I leave to you, my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give it to you.” Or as we hear in today’s Gospel, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me… and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

Christ and the Penitent Sinners (1617) by Peter Paul Rubens

It might seem strange that Jesus speaks of a “yoke” and a “burden” when promising rest, peace, renewal. To be yoked, like an ox, to something – even something easy – doesn’t sound very liberating! This image though was used in the Jewish tradition to speak about the things we are attached to. Each of us has something we are committed to, something we serve – our families, our work, the causes we believe in, etc. Our “yoke” therefore is whatever we live in service to. In first century Jewish thought, it was best to live not under the “yoke of the world” but under the “yoke of the Lord.” To serve God, to live oriented toward and attached to the things of heaven — that was not oppression, but true freedom.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus applies these images to himself. The “yoke of the Lord” is his yoke; to serve God is to serve him. We all must be attached to, devoted to, oriented toward something, and Jesus says let it be him. Why? Because it is in service to God that we find true meaning and true freedom. The cares of this life – even good causes, and good things – ultimately cannot fulfill us and sustain us. They may give us love for a time, or fulfillment for a while, but ultimately they pass away and leave us wanting more. It’s far better to strive to serve the one who can grant us true and lasting peace, who can fulfill what we most deeply yearn for. In the end, that is Christ alone, the Son of God, for only he can lead us to the Father and eternal life.

To receive his rest, Jesus asks us to submit to his yoke, his burden. What is it? To conform ourselves to him – to align all of the elements of who we are according to Him and the Truth that he gives, and nothing less. Our world, our society, and even our nation has enshrined the idea of self-determination, of living life in the way that we want to. But true freedom comes not just from independence, but from living in service to the Truth – to Him who is Way and Truth and Life. It’s foolish to think we can create our own happiness or that we can find meaning by defining it ourselves. In contrast to the world, the follower of Christ must ask himself: “My values – are they those of Christ? My way of life – is it in accord with his Truth? In what way do I need to take up the yoke he offers? How do I need to change so that I may serve him better?”

Jan van Scorel, Entry of Christ into Jerusalem [triptych, detail] (c. 1526)

Friends, in the end, true freedom depends less on the events in this land a couple centuries ago and much more on what happened in the Holy Land a couple millennia ago. Jesus today urges us to bear his yoke, to live in service to him, to define ourselves in light of his Truth. He does so because, as the prophet Zechariah says, he is the true King, the One who rode humbly into Jerusalem on a donkey, who submitted himself to the yoke of the Cross in order to make our burden light. And one day, the King will return, this time in glory, to grant to his true and loyal subjects the freedom, the rest, the peace that only he can give.