The Seventeenth
Sunday in Ordinary Time
(A)
Dear
brothers and sisters,
No
farmer works the soil expecting to find a treasure buried there (cf. Matthew 13:44).
Likewise, no merchant has high expectations of finding "a pearl of great
price" (Matthew 13:45). When they do find such an item, the joy they
experience comes from the unexpectedness of such a find in the midst of the
ordinary pursuits of life; the discovery of a treasure – be it an ancient
burial mound or the bones of a dinosaur - seems a pure gift from the heavens, a
gift not found by others.
If
a farmer is to find a great treasure in his field, if a merchant is to find a
priceless pearl, or if a fisherman is to haul in a great catch, he must already
be about the work of farming, of buying and selling, or of fishing; he cannot
simply sit idly by in his house and hope such things come to him. The discovery
of such a treasure, of such a pearl, or of such a catch is a gift, yes, but one
that comes with some effort. As it is with these earthly treasures, so it is
with spiritual treasures. Those who seek to grow daily in holiness may well
stumble upon spiritual treasures in the midst of their daily pursuits to grow
in faith, in hope, and in love; those who are not interested in growing in
holiness, in living a life of faith, hope, and love, are unlikely to find a
spiritual treasure.
Let
us consider for a moment this pearl and this treasure of which the Lord speaks.
Because Jesus speaks to us here in parables, we know these images must have a
deeper meaning than the ones they have on the surface. If we look upon them
with the eyes of faith we will see that the pearl and the treasure are nothing
less than Jesus himself. Christ Jesus is himself the Pearl of Great Price and
the Treasure Hidden in the Field, just as he is the net that has caught us in
his embrace.
Both
the pearl and the treasure were already present before the farmer and the
fisherman set about their work. So it is with all who seek Jesus Christ and his
kingdom; he is present to them even before they begin to search for him. Saint
Augustine summed it up nicely when he wrote in his Confessions:
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| Saint Augustine of Hippo |
Too late have I
loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, O Beauty ever new. Too late have I loved you!
You were within me but I was outside myself, and there I sought you! In my
weakness I ran after the beauty of the things you have made. You were with me, but
I was not with you… You have called, you have cried, and you have pierced my deafness.
You have radiated forth, you have shined out brightly, and you have dispelled
my blindness. You have sent forth your fragrance, and I have breathed it in,
and I long for you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst for you. You
have touched me, and I ardently desire your peace.[1]
As
fishes must yield to the fisherman’s net, so must we yield to the net of the
great Fisher of Men who longs to draw us into his Kingdom.
We
see, then, that the Lord Jesus is often found in the most unexpected of places
and wherever he is, there is his kingdom. He has already given himself to us in
the Sacrament of Baptism in the profound gift that comes from the outpouring of
water and the Holy Spirit. In these life-giving waters the pearl of grace and
the treasure of faith has been entrusted to us to be guarded and increased;
within these waters, his net has been cast over us (cf. Matthew 25:14-30). But
how do we keep this treasure safe? How do we yield to his net? King Solomon
points the way out to us.
When
the Lord God addressed to him that surprising and risky command, "Ask
something of me and I will give it to you," Solomon demonstrated by his
words that he already possessed the gift he requested of the Lord, at least in a
shadowy form; he could not have asked for the gift of wisdom without already
being wise (I Kings 3:5). It may be that King Solomon intuited what Saint Paul
wrote to the people of Rome: "We know that all things work for good for
those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28).
The
son of David knew that God's purpose for him was to "govern this vast
people of yours" by being able to "distinguish right from wrong"
(I Kings 3:9). But having asked for and received this gift of wisdom, Solomon
did not always act wisely and found himself at times in serious sin. In this,
we see that he did not always make use of the gift he was given, that he did
not always yield to the Lord’s net. Are you and I any different?
How
often do we likewise not make use of the gift of faith that has been given to
us? Faith in the Lord’s goodness and care for us helps us to keep farming,
buying and selling, and fishing as the men in his parables. When a time of
difficulty comes, though, we frequently back away from the Lord. Having
received the Ten Commandments, we too often live without reference to them. And
when a doubt or question arises about the faith we have received we do not
bother to study the faith more deeply and to know it - and Jesus Christ - more
intimately. When we feel the Lord calling us one direction, we go the other
way. I cannot help but wonder, if the Lord were to say to us, "Ask
something of me and I will give it to you," what would we request?
Some
centuries ago, the Lord said something similar to Saint Thomas Aquinas. Toward the end of his life, Saint Thomas, one
of the greatest minds the Church has ever known, was writing a treatise on the
Eucharist, struggling to complete it. In great frustration, the quiet man of
God threw his text at the foot of a crucifix, asking the Lord what he thought
of what he had written. The voice of God came through the figure of the
Crucified Lord, saying to him: “You have written well of me, Thomas. What would
you have?”
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| Saint Thomas Aquinas |
Saint Thomas could
choose whatever he wanted, whatever he desired. Would he ask for wealth, or
fame, or power? Would he ask for love, or athletic skill, or simple pleasures? He could ask for anything; what would he ask
of the Lord? Like King Solomon before him, Saint Thomas asked neither “for a
long life for [him]self, nor for riches, nor for the life of [his] enemies” (IKings 3:11). He answered the Savior with these profound words: “Nil nisi te, Domine, nil nisi te (Nothing
but you, Lord, nothing but you).”The Angelic Doctor answered wisely and
honestly. He “wanted nothing more than Christ, nothing other than Christ,
nothing less than Christ.”[2] He knew that, as he had
written earlier in his life, “God alone satisfies.”[3] Would we ask the same of
the Lord?
If
we ask the Lord for nothing but himself, we will yield to his net and have the joy
of his treasure in our hearts, and find ourselves in his kingdom. But how do we
keep this initial joy of finding that buried treasure and great pearl? How do
we remain in the joy of yielding to the Lord’s net? Saint Damien of Moloka’i
once said: “To have begun is nothing, the hard thing is to persevere. This is
the work of God’s grace. That grace will never fail me, I am sure of that,
provided I do not resist it. Pray for me. I will do all that depends on me.”[4]
This
is true for us, as well. Once we have done our part the Lord will do his part.
We need only look upon the crucifix to know he keeps his word. If we seek to
grow daily in holiness, if we seek to live lives of faith, hope, and love, we
will learn to yield to his net by relying on God’s grace and by desiring him
above all else. If we do not resist his grace but yield to his merciful love, he
will bring us to the point where we can say in honest and humble love, “Nothing
but you, Lord, nothing but you.” Amen.
[1]
Saint Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, X.27.38.
[2] Robert
Barron, Thomas Aquinas: Spiritual Master (New York: The Crossroad
Publishing Company, 1996, 2008), 12.
[3] Saint
Thomas Aquinas, Expos. In symb apost, I. In Catechism of the
Catholic Church, 1718.
[4] In Vital Jourdain, SS.CC., The Heart of Father Damien. Francis
Larkin, SS.CC. and Charles Davenport, trans. (Milwaukee, Wisconsin: The Bruce
Publishing Company, 1955), 50.
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