A Treasure not Made of Gold
“…a person…out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” (Matthew 13: 44)
“Find a penny. Pick it up. All day long you’ll have good luck.”
We love surprises. Sometimes the surprise lies on the sidewalk. Find a penny, pick it up. In the gospel, what is found is worth more than a penny. The astonished man conceals the treasure then sells everything to buy the field. He is intent on one thing only: that treasure must be mine. It must be mine.
In our world, treasure often means money. What is the pearl worth? What will the jeweler pay? Our fields are storehouses of value. The second mortgage on our home helps to cover the costs of college. Teams battle to win the game. Victory takes talent and effort. A lucky lottery ticket takes no effort; it brings the delight of the unexpected. As kids we checked the coin returns on the pay phones at the airport. A dime was treasure at the penny candy counter.
A treasure is grasped tightly. But grasping money doesn’t work. Money comes and goes. What is enough money today becomes too little tomorrow. We want more. The treadmill sets in and we’re quickly going nowhere. I cannot clutch possessions forever. A pearl locked in a box goes to a child in my will. This dear home will someday shelter another family. What we claim as “mine” will not last.
This message eventually gets through the fog. Our treasure is not our bank account or retirement fund. What gives our lives meaning does last. And it is not mine alone. Moses encounters God directly on the mountain and is transformed. God’s light shone within him and radiated out. And Moses rushes down the mountain to share the good news with his people.
Our faith is treasure. God’s word is treasure. The community that stands together is treasure. This treasure is mine to be lived and given away. Again and again. We are bread that is broken and shared. On the mountain Moses realized how real is God and how real is God’s love for him. Here is the gift. It is right before us. Delight in the treasure that lasts.
Jeanne Schuler
We live in the city near the university with our three children, so work and family form almost a whole…but not a seamless whole. Family, faith, work, old neighborhoods, leftist (leftover) politics, and enough community are my measures of reality. Also, a good dog named Sid.
Scripture has depths missing from other forms of wisdom. This is closer to the ground we walk on.
