In Hebrews Chapter 11 we read: To have faith is to be
sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see.
But what does that really mean? What is it like to have
faith, and not only to believe in a living God, Creator of all and everything,
but also to be certain in that belief? Without any proof, or evidence
whatsoever. It’s as if to have faith is to believe when your common
sense tells you not to. Often Jesus said to people He has healed: Your faith has
healed you. Your faith has saved you. He taught that if we had faith as small as a mustard seed
we could perform miracles.
We read in Mark 9:24 that when a father asked Jesus to
heal his son, he said: I believe, Lord; help my unbelief. Jesus took pity on
him and realised that the man had some faith, perhaps not enough, but at least
he had some; so Jesus healed the man’s son. This leads us to ask: Is faith enough? We may have faith, to varying degrees, depending on who
we are. But is this enough? After all, even the devil has faith. He believes in God
all-right. He even tried to tempt Jesus often enough. This proves that he has
faith, and believes in God. Perhaps more than we do.
So, if faith is not enough; what is missing in our
relationship with God? Trust. Let us consider trust for a moment. A little child does
not question whether his parents care for him or not. It is intrinsically part
of his nature to take it for granted that his parents love him and will take
care of him. When he asks them for bread they will not give him a stone, and
when he asks for fish they will not give him a serpent. The child trusts his parents and will continue to do so
as he grows up; until one day someone may betray that trust and then he’ll
become more wary of those around him. So how about us? Is our faith in God matched with an
unshakeable trust that He cares for us, and no matter what happens, no matter
how bad things are in our lives, He is there, beside us, all the time caring
for us and ready to see us through whatever crisis we face. Can you imagine the amount of self-control and
concentration of thought we should have to believe, really believe, that not
matter what happens, we trust that God loves us and cares for us enough to
protect us from all evil? Such level of trust may well be beyond what many of us
can achieve; but it should not stop us from trying. Through gritted teeth even.
We should pray, over and again, that we trust God that He will see us through
this dark period in our lives. Faith, no matter how great or small, as much as half a
mustard seed even, may not be enough. It needs to be accompanied by an
unfailing trust that our loving God will never ever let us down. It is no point having faith in a Master who walks on
water if we do not trust Him enough to follow Him.
In the little village of Bethany, not far from Jerusalem, there lived
three siblings who were among the closest friends of Jesus: Martha, Mary of
Bethany, and Lazarus of Bethany. Scripture
tells us simply and beautifully: “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and
Lazarus.” Their home became a place of
welcome, rest, and friendship for the Lord.
We first meet Martha and Mary when Jesus comes to dine with them. Martha, the practical and capable sister, is
busy with all the preparations. She
wants everything to be perfect. Mary,
meanwhile, sits at Jesus’ feet, listening to His words like a true disciple. Frustrated and overwhelmed, Martha asks Jesus
to tell Mary to help her.
Instead, Jesus gently replies, “Martha, Martha, you worry and fret about
many things; yet few are needed - indeed only one. Mary has chosen the better part.”
Poor
Martha! How many of us
recognise ourselves in her? Someone must
cook, clean, organise, and take responsibility. Martha’s service was
generous and loving. Yet in her anxiety she almost missed the joy
of simply being with the Lord. Jesus was
not criticising her kindness; He was reminding her, and us, that no
task,
however necessary, should crowd out time with Him.
But Martha is far more than a flustered hostess. In the Gospel of John, her greatness shines
even more clearly. When her brother
Lazarus dies, Jesus delays His coming. Grief
fills the house. Yet when Jesus finally
arrives, it is Martha who goes out to meet Him. With sorrow and faith mingled together she
says, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of
God, He will grant you.”
To Martha, practical, busy Martha, Jesus entrusts one of the most
profound revelations in the Gospel: “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” And she makes a magnificent confession of
faith: “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God.” It is after this profession that Lazarus is
called from the tomb. Martha’s faith
helped prepare the ground for the miracle.
Mary too reveals her depth of love. Later, at a supper in Bethany, she anoints
Jesus’ feet with costly perfume and wipes them with her hair - an act of
extravagant devotion. While others
criticise, Jesus defends her. She has
understood something of His coming Passion. Her love is intuitive, contemplative,
wholehearted.
And then there is Lazarus. When
Jesus stands before his tomb and calls, “Lazarus, come out!” the dead man walks
forth. This miracle reveals Christ’s
divine authority over death and foreshadows His own Resurrection. Lazarus becomes a living witness to the power
of Jesus - so much so that others believe because of him.
What, then, does this family teach us?
Martha teaches us generous service - but also the need to pause and
pray. Mary teaches us deep listening and
loving devotion - but not neglect of others.
Lazarus teaches us that Christ calls each of us out of our tombs - from
sin, fear, and despair - into new life.
Jesus did not say that Martha’s way was wrong, nor that Mary’s was the
only path. Rather, in this beloved
household we see the harmony of action and contemplation, work and worship,
service and faith. The Christian life
needs both the active hands of Martha and the listening heart of Mary. And it needs the living witness of Lazarus - people
whose transformed lives point others to Christ.
Today's readings invite us to reflect on two powerful images: a linen
loincloth in the first reading and a mustard seed and yeast in the
Gospel. At first glance, they seem unrelated,
but together they reveal God's desire for a close relationship with us and the
transformative power of His Kingdom.
In the first reading, God instructs Jeremiah to buy a linen loincloth
and wear it close to his body. Later,
God tells him to hide it in a rocky crevice near the Euphrates. After some time, Jeremiah retrieves it, only
to find that it has become ruined and useless.
God explains the meaning of this symbolic act. Just as the loincloth was meant to cling
closely to Jeremiah, so God had chosen Israel to cling closely to Him - to be
His people, bringing Him praise, honour, and glory. But they refused to listen. They followed their own desires, worshipped
false gods, and drifted away from the Lord. As a result, they became spiritually "ruined,"
not because God abandoned them, but because they abandoned the One who gave
them life and purpose.
This
reading speaks just as clearly to us today. We, too, are created to
remain close to God. Prayer, the sacraments, Scripture, and acts of
charity keep us united with Him. When we
distance ourselves from God through sin, indifference, or excessive
attachment
to worldly things, we lose the joy and fruitfulness that come from
living in
His presence.
The Gospel presents a different picture. Jesus compares the Kingdom of God to a tiny
mustard seed that grows into a large tree, and to a small amount of yeast that
leavens a large batch of dough.
The message is one of hope. God's
Kingdom often begins in ways that seem insignificant. A simple prayer, a kind word, a hidden act of
generosity, a quiet moment of forgiveness - these may appear small, but in
God's hands they become seeds of transformation. Like yeast hidden in flour, God's grace works
silently from within, changing hearts before changing the world.
There is an important connection between the two readings. Jeremiah
warns us not to become disconnected from God, while Jesus assures us that when
we remain united with Him, even the smallest acts of faith can bear
extraordinary fruit.
Many people become discouraged because they do not see immediate results
from their efforts to live the Gospel. Parents
pray for children who have drifted from the faith. Teachers wonder whether they are making a
difference. Parish volunteers may feel
unnoticed. Yet Jesus reminds us that God
delights in working through what is small and hidden. We are called not to measure success by
visible results but by faithful perseverance.
Today, let us ask ourselves:
Am I staying close to the Lord, or have
I slowly drifted away?
What small seed of faith is God asking
me to plant today?
How can I allow God's grace to work
within me like yeast, transforming my heart from the inside out?
May we remain close to Christ each day, trusting that He can take our
small acts of love and make them instruments of His Kingdom. Amen.
Our Sunday gospels just now are from
the part of Saint Matthew's Gospel which is known as the “Parables of the
Kingdom”. We herd rather long parables in the previous two weeks, but in
contrast today there are two very short ones, that of the “Pearl of Great
Price” and that of the “Dragnet”. I intend to concentrate on the first of
these, because although a very short story, it can draw us into the very depths
of our Christian Faith.
Jesus uses the image of the “Pearl of Great Price” to illustrate the value
and nature of the Kingdom of Heaven. I
find this image both evocative and challenging. Now I invite you to spend just a few moments, delving
into the meaning of that “Pearl of Great Price”, and seeing how this little
story can challenge, inspire, and shape our faith journey. The Pearl, precious
and matchless, signifies not only the Kingdom itself but also our personal faith
relationship with our Blessed Lord - the heart of all true discipleship.
The Lord says: “Again, the kingdom of
heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of
great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.” (Matthew
13:45–46).
Perhaps at first glance, this is a simple tale
of trade and discovery, but its depths are profound. The merchant represents each
believer, who seeks something of true worth. Upon discovering the Pearl, he
recognises that it is truly beyond price, cannot be equalled by anything
else in the world, and so worth surrendering everything for its sake.
The parable, however is not just
about material sacrifice but about a radical reorientation of one’s life
towards God. It symbolises not only the Kingdom of Heaven, but even more
importantly Our Lord Himself. To possess the pearl is to know and love Jesus Christ,
to live in His grace, and to enter into the fullness of communion with God.
The merchant’s quest mirrors the
journey of faith. Faith is not static but dynamic. It is a pilgrimage, a
seeking after God, often through uncertainty, questioning and challenge. The
Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that faith is a gift, yet it also
demands a response: “Faith is first of all a personal adherence of man to God.
By ‘faith’ we completely submit our intellect and our will to God.” (CCC 143).
The search for the pearl is the
search for meaning, truth, and ultimately for God. Many are content with lesser
pearls—comfort, status, achievement—but faith urges us to seek the one true
Pearl, Christ, who alone satisfies the deepest longings of the human heart.
One of my favourite hymns is “As the
deer pants for the water”, especially the second verse :
“I want you more than gold or silver,
only you can satisfy.
You alone are the real joy giver and
the apple of my eye.”
It is only through faith that we come to
recognise the value of the Pearl; without faith, its beauty and significance
remain hidden.
The merchant’s willingness to sell
“all that he had” is a profound image of surrender. In our richtreasury of spirituality, faith often
involves letting go of attachments and placing God at the centre. “Giving all
in order to possess All” is a spiritual paradox rooted in letting go of ego,
material attachments and self-sufficiency in order to gain a deeperpurpose and truth, what we would call, “a
state of grace”. It is only by completely surrendering what we cling to that we
open ourselves up to receiving true abundance of life . This echoes our Lord’s own
call to discipleship:
“If anyone would come after me, let him deny
himself and take up his cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:24).
Gaining the Pearl of Great Price
means giving the Kingdom first place, with no exceptions. It is a call to
radical trust and obedience. For some, this may mean literal renunciation, as
with religious life or missionary work; for most, it means daily choices to
live for Christ, to love others, and to grow in holiness. The merchant’s action
is not forced upon him, but entirely voluntary; the discovery of the pearl
fills him with joy, making the sacrifice not burdensome but liberating.
Catholic faith is relational. The
Pearl of Great Price is not an abstract treasure but a person: Jesus Christ.
Faith is the encounter with Him, inviting us into personal friendship and
communion. The sacraments, especially the Eucharist, are ways in which we
encounter the living Christ, the Pearl made present and accessible.
Faith is not just relational, but transforming.
St. Paul wrote, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of
knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” (Philippians 3:8). To have the Pearl is to know
Christ, to love Him, and to allow Him to shape every aspect of our lives. The
joy of the merchant reflects the joy of the Christian who finds Christ, a joy
that is deeper than any earthly pleasure.
True faith is also radical , challenging
conventional notions of value. The world prizes wealth, power, and security;
the Kingdom values humility, mercy, and self-giving love. To have the Pearl of
Great Price means embracing values that may seem foolish or impractical to
others. It is a counter-cultural witness, a sign that true happiness is found
not in possessions but in relationship with God.
This is especially relevant in
contemporary society, where faith is so often confronted with incomprehension,
suspicion and even outright hostility. In the face of this, we are called to
bear witness to the value of the Pearl, living lives that point to Christ and
His Kingdom. This witness may involve suffering, misunderstanding, or
persecution, but it is sustained by the hope and joy of the Gospel.
Faith, let us remember, is not only
personal but also communal. The Church, as the Body of Christ, is the context
in which the Pearl is found, cherished, and shared. We Catholics are called to
seek the Pearl together, supporting each other in faith, and sharing the
treasure of Christ with the world.
Through prayer, liturgy, and service,
the Church helps believers to recognise and value the Pearl. The saints are
examples of those who gave everything for Christ, inspiring us to follow their
example. The Church’s teaching and tradition guide us in discerning what is
truly valuable and in responding to the call of Christ
To seek that “Pearl of Great Price”
is to recognise Christ as the ultimate treasure, to seek Him with all our
heart, and to surrender everything for His sake. It is to live with joy, hope,
and courage, knowing that the Kingdom of Heaven is worth every sacrifice. The parable
invites us to examine our own values, to ask what we are willing to give for
the sake of Christ, and to trust that in Him we find life in abundance.
Finally, we are called to renew our
faith daily, to seek the Pearl, and to share its beauty with others. May we,
like the merchant, recognise the surpassing worth of Christ and respond with
generous, joyful hearts. The Pearl of Great Price is offered to all; may we
have the faith to seek, find, and cherish it, now and always.
I
spent Holy Week and Easter Week of 1970 in a parish in a small town in eastern
Kentucky. I was on a three-year programme of studies near New York City after
my ordination in Ireland in December 1967. There were only a handful of
Catholics, maybe 15 or so, now 15 families according to the parish website, among
the population of around 1,600, now 2,500, in this predominantly Protestant
area where there were still the remnants of hostility towards Catholics. That
has probably disappeared by now.
One
of the Catholics was the local drunk and I heard after Easter that he was in
the town’s lock-up. Al Capone he wasn’t, and was no danger to the community,
only to himself. Being a stranger and a Catholic priest I felt a little
apprehensive as I went to visit him. But I was totally disarmed by the warm
welcome the policeman on duty gave me. He thanked me for coming and brought the
prisoner and myself to the kitchen and told us to make ourselves at home. Then
he left.
The
prisoner and I had a long chat over coffee and he was grateful for my visit. I
don’t remember what we talked about and had no further contact with him, as I
drove back to New York that Easter Friday.
For
me the grace of the visit to the lock-up was the warm humanity of the policeman
expressed in his kindness towards the prisoner and me. I presume that the
latter’s stay was a short one, probably not his first or his last.
Over
the years I’ve come to see clearly that very many of the gospel stories involve
Jesus encountering one or two individuals, often in the presence of others, and
changing their lives. St Matthew’s passage on the Final Judgement (Mt 25:31-46)
shows us that our eternal salvation depends on how we respond to others in such
personal encounters: I was in prison and
you came to me . . . When did we see you in prison? . . . And the King will answer them, ‘Truly,
I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers,you did it to me.’
The alternative
Communion Antiphon in the Mass of the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time,
which occurred when I was preparing this, puts my visit to the prisoner in
Kentucky in an eternal context: Behold, I
stand at the door and knock, says the Lord. If anyone hears my voice and opens
the door to me, I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me
(Revelations 3:20).
On that morning
in Easter Week 1970 Jesus the Risen Lord had coffee with the town drunk and me
in the kitchen of a lock-up in a small town in eastern Kentucky.
Patience is one of the “Fruits of the
Holy Spirit”. It is important that a child learns early on that not everything
can be had instantly. Some of us never finish learning that lesson. There is a
famous story of a holy man praying: “God, give me patience … And PLEASE
HURRY!”. Equally telling is the old proverb: “Patience is a virtue, find it
where you can… Seldom in a woman, never in a man!” To be fair, I've heard that
proverb reversed many times, and have met patient and impatient souls of
both genders in pretty equal proportions!
Today’s Gospel parable is usually
known as “The Wheat and Tares”. It's important to remember that Our Lord
Himself never gave these stories a title at all. Christians have come up with
the titles over the centuries, and sometimes our understanding of the real
depth of teaching in them can be limited by the titles themselves. The “Parable
of the Prodigal Son” is one case of this - the story is about a Father with two
sons, not one. It might better be called “The Father’s Forgiveness”, because
that's really what the story is about.
Today's parable also suffers from its
title. At the heart of the Good News of Jesus Christ is the revelation of God
as Loving Father. The story we have just heard doesn't focus on the weeds
growing in a field of wheat, but on the patience of the farmer. His labourers
want a “quick fix”, but the farmer is prepared to wait. We are often in a
hurry, but God isn't - just like the farmer, (and the sower in last week’s Gospel). He has confidence in an abundant harvest. The sower was prepared to
accept the wastage of three-quarters of the seed he sowed because the seeds
which actually grew till harvest would yield many times more grains than had
been lost. Today’s farmer is prepared to be patient and wait till harvest time.
To be sure the weeds will take some of the nourishment from the soil, and will
need careful separation at harvest time. Till then, however, patience is the
best option: to wade into the field and try to rip out all of the weeds would
do much more harm to the wheat than leaving the weeds in place.
Here we have the heart of the parable.
Again, Jesus invites us to try to lift our gaze from the ground immediately in
front of us, and to try to see ourselves and our world as God sees it.
The
so-called “Problem of Evil” has unsettled many a Christian down the
centuries. How can a good God allow such evil in the world? If the Creator
looked at His work and “saw that it was very good”, where did that evil
come from? Interestingly, Our Lord does not ask us to immerse ourselves in
theological speculation as to the nature of evil. “An enemy has done this
thing” is as much as He will say. From the point of view of the growing wheat, “up
close and personal” with the weeds, their presence was both threatening and
unwelcome. The farmer was not to blame - in the Book of Wisdom we
read: “It is the wicked that have brought death on themselves, by
word and deed of their own.” (Wis 1:16). A consequence of God’s wonderful
gift of “Free Will” is that individuals can choose to be God’s enemies if
they so wish - causing much suffering to those around them, and bringing their
own selves to ultimate ruin.
No, the presence of evil in the world
is not the real focus of Our Lord’s teaching today. He wants us instead to
concentrate on the Father’s patience, and to learn from it. Our human history
shows countless examples of the disastrous consequences of trying to tear all
the weeds out of the growing crops. So often the reformers and revolutionaries
end up making things worse rather than better, failing even to tell the good
plants from the bad. For just one recent example, think of Cambodia and
the “Killing Fields” of the dictator Pol Pot.
The Father, by contrast, is prepared
to be patient. In the long term, the abundance of the harvest will more than
compensate for any harm the weeds did. Yes, there will be a day of reckoning,
with the weeds “tied into bundles to be burned”, and the grain stored safely
away. In his Epistle, St. James warns against premature judgement. “There
is only one Lawgiver and one Judge, and that is the One God” (James 4:12)
Today’s Gospel also reminds us not to try to seek a quick solution by taking
the law into our own hands.
It is so easy to become completely
focused upon the bad things in our lives, other people, and the world around
us. There is a poem called “Desiderata” by Max Ehrlman which says: “With
all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be
cheerful.”
The parable we have just heard is also an encouragement to that
same positive mental attitude. Don't see only the ugly weeds, but also the
beautiful harvest which is coming. There is a prayer from the Mass I often find
myself saying during the day “Blessed are you, Lord God of all Creation”.
Look at the world with hope, not despair. Another lovely Mass prayer prays that
we might await the Lord’s coming “In joyful hope”. Pray for patient trust
which rests on the firm conviction that evil will not prevail. In the end the
weeds “go up in smoke” all that remains is the abundant harvest safe in
God’s keeping.
One last thought: growing wheat and
tares are quite hard to tell apart. In exactly the same way, we should never
presume to judge who are the good and bad people in our world. Again, we must
be patient and leave the judgement to God. I leave you with a little poem, both
amusing and instructive:
