The Hidden Treasure: Rediscovering the Joy of Following Jesus

 17 Sunday OT

Jesus’ parable of the treasure hidden in a field reminds us that the kingdom of heaven is not merely an obligation but a gift of immeasurable value. Like people who discover that an ordinary household object is actually priceless, Christians can become so accustomed to their faith that they lose sight of its beauty. The Gospel invites us to make a spiritual reset and rediscover the mercy, community, purpose, prayer, and joy we have found in following Christ.

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I think I have mentioned before that one of my favourite television shows to catch in reruns is Antiques Roadshow. Many of you have probably seen it. People bring items from their homes to be examined and valued by experts.

Sometimes, the items turn out to be little more than junk. Every so often, however, someone brings in an object that has been sitting unnoticed in the family home for generations, and it turns out to be extraordinarily valuable.

In one memorable episode, a man brought in an old blanket that had been casually draped over the back of his sofa for years. He had received it from his grandfather. When the expert examined it, he discovered that it was a rare Navajo chief’s blanket, potentially worth close to a million dollars.

In another episode, a man brought in an old watch that had been passed down through his family. It turned out to be a rare Patek Philippe watch, which later sold for around $1.5 million.

Today’s Gospel is also about treasure: searching for treasure, discovering it in unexpected places, and perhaps even having a treasure right in front of us without recognizing its true value.

Jesus tells us about a man who discovers treasure hidden in a field. He covers it up again and, filled with joy, sells everything he owns in order to buy that field.

At first, the story might sound unrealistic. Imagine walking through Tipperary Park, noticing the corner of a treasure chest sticking out of the ground, digging it up, and finding it filled with ancient coins. That is probably not something we expect to happen on an ordinary afternoon.

In the ancient world, however, burying treasure was not so unusual. Before modern banks existed, people often protected their valuables by placing coins, precious metals, or jewels in a container and hiding it underground. This was especially common during times of war or political instability.

The biblical scholar R. T. France explains that, before banking became widespread, hiding wealth in the ground was a recognized way of keeping it secure, particularly during a crisis.

A fascinating example is the Copper Scroll, one of the Dead Sea Scrolls discovered near Qumran in the middle of the twentieth century. It is called the Copper Scroll because—biblical scholarship occasionally makes naming easy—it was written on copper.

Unlike most of the Dead Sea Scrolls, it reads almost like a treasure map. It lists locations where valuable objects were supposedly hidden throughout the Judean wilderness. Its opening instructions describe treasure buried near the Valley of Achor, beneath some steps, a certain distance from an eastern entrance.

Many people have searched for the treasures described in the scroll, although none has ever been conclusively found. Perhaps the treasure was removed long ago. Nevertheless, the scroll shows us that Jesus’ parable would not have sounded impossible to the people of his time.

The most important part of the parable, however, is not the historical practice of burying treasure. It is the reaction of the man who finds it.

Jesus tells us that the man sells everything he has with joy.

The treasure represents the kingdom of heaven: the new life that Jesus offers us and the vocation we received at our baptism. It is something so good and so valuable that the man is willing to reorganize his entire life around it.

This is an important reminder for us. Following Jesus is not simply an obligation or a burden. It is a treasure. It is something that brings joy, meaning, freedom, and fulfilment.

We know that there is a great difference between doing something because we feel forced to do it and doing something because we recognize its value. When we love something, our sacrifices take on a different meaning.

Think, for example, of the careers of great athletes. Consider the countless hours that elite soccer players spend practising, training, travelling, and caring for their physical health. Certainly, there must be many mornings when they do not feel like training. Yet they persevere because they love the sport. They recognize something valuable in it. Their sacrifices are connected to a passion and a purpose.

The same is true of our faith.

Following Jesus can certainly be challenging. The Gospel asks us to forgive when forgiveness is difficult. It calls us to serve, to make time for prayer, to be generous, and to place our gifts at the service of others. We should not pretend that these things are always easy.

Yet we must never forget the joy at the centre of the Christian life. Following Christ is a treasure. The sacrifices of discipleship make sense only when we remember the value of what we have discovered.

From time to time, we need to rediscover that treasure.

Perhaps we can think of it as a spiritual reset. When we use a computer or a phone, we can gradually open more and more applications. Our browser fills with countless tabs. Eventually, the device begins to slow down, and we need to close everything and restart it.

Something similar can happen in our spiritual lives. Challenges, responsibilities, worries, distractions, and routines begin to accumulate. We can continue doing all the right things while slowly losing sight of why we are doing them.

Sometimes, we need to stop and begin again. We need to ask ourselves: Why do I follow Jesus? What is the treasure I have discovered in him? What gives me joy in my faith?

The answer may be somewhat different for each of us.

Perhaps our treasure is the experience of God’s mercy: knowing that we are forgiven, loved, and given another opportunity to begin.

Perhaps it is the peace that comes when we look back and recognize that God has answered our prayers—not always in the way we expected, but in the way we needed.

Perhaps it is the support of the Christian community: gathering with people who encourage us, pray for us, and walk with us through the joys and struggles of life.

Perhaps we experience the treasure of faith when we use our gifts to serve someone in need.

Perhaps it is found in Scripture, when a familiar passage suddenly speaks directly to our life and gives us hope.

Perhaps we discover it in the sacraments, in the beauty of the liturgy, or in a few quiet moments spent in the presence of God.

Today’s Gospel invites us to recognize these treasures again.

On Antiques Roadshow, people sometimes discover that something they have lived beside for years is far more valuable than they ever imagined. It was always there, but they needed someone to help them see it properly.

Today, Jesus does something similar for us. He points once again to the treasure we already possess: the gift of knowing him, following him, and participating in his kingdom.

At this Mass, let us each identify one or two things that make following Jesus a treasure for us. Let us remember what gives us joy, what gives our lives meaning, and what first drew us toward Christ.

And, like the man in the parable, may we respond to that treasure not reluctantly or fearfully, but with joy.

Why Jesus Teaches in Parables: Living in the Kingdom of God

 16 Sunday Ordinary Time

Jesus teaches through parables because the kingdom of God is a mystery into which we must enter, rather than a problem that can be answered quickly and neatly. The parables of the wheat and weeds, the mustard seed, and the yeast show that God’s kingdom is already present but not yet complete: good and evil still coexist, while God quietly brings growth through small acts of faith and love. Each of us helps build the kingdom whenever we allow Christ’s word to bear fruit in our lives and plant seeds of goodness in the world.

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We are living through what many people call an artificial intelligence revolution. Whenever we need information, help with planning, or an answer to a question, we can simply turn to the AI tool of our choice. Within seconds, it gives us something clear, direct, and concise.

Many of us have grown accustomed to answers like that. We want things explained quickly and neatly.

Jesus, however, does not teach like artificial intelligence.

Jesus teaches in parables. His parables draw upon things that he and the people around him would have encountered every day: fields where seeds were planted, weeds growing among wheat, a tiny mustard seed, and yeast mixed into dough.

Yet Jesus’ parables are not always straightforward. Sometimes they are puzzling. Rather than giving us a simple answer, Jesus invites us to wrestle with a mystery. He wants us to enter into the story, reflect upon it, and discover where we fit within it.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus often uses parables to describe the kingdom of God, also called the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom is so central to Jesus’ mission that we cannot really understand what Jesus is doing unless we understand something about it.

For us, the idea of a kingdom may seem old-fashioned. Certainly, we still have King Charles on our money, but most of us do not think of ourselves as living in a kingdom.

In Jesus’ time, however, kingdoms were a familiar reality. The people of Israel longed for the restoration of the kingdom of David—a time when they would live in their own land, in peace and freedom. Over time, they began to hope for a Messiah who would establish God’s kingdom in a definitive way.

This is the kingdom Jesus announces in his parables. It is unlike any earthly kingdom. It is the world as God desires it to be: a kingdom of justice, peace, mercy, and communion with God. It begins here and now, and it reaches its fulfilment in eternal life.

Theologians sometimes describe this mystery by saying that the kingdom of God is already here, but not yet complete.

The kingdom is already here because Jesus has brought salvation. Through his death and resurrection, he has defeated the power of sin and death. Wherever people live according to the Gospel—where there is mercy, forgiveness, justice, and love—the kingdom of God is already present.

At the same time, the kingdom is not yet fully realized. Evil remains in the world. We still experience sickness, suffering, injustice, corruption, and death. We await the return of Christ, when God’s kingdom will be revealed in its fullness and all things will finally be made right.

The parables we hear today help us understand how to live within this tension between the “already” and the “not yet.”

The first question they address is difficult but important: How can there be so much good in the Church and, at the same time, so much sin and failure?

We are all familiar with the failings of the Church. We can look back upon the violence of the Crusades and the Inquisition. In modern times, we have had to confront the terrible reality of clergy sexual abuse. Within the Church, we find great saints, but we also find serious sin. How can both exist together?

Jesus addresses this mystery in the parable of the wheat and the weeds.

Christ sows good seed in the world. As we heard in the parable of the sower, God’s word is planted within us. Yet we remain free. We can allow that word to bear good fruit, or we can resist it.

Through our choices, we can produce wheat: kindness, generosity, faithfulness, patience, and love. But we can also allow weeds to grow: violence, greed, jealousy, selfishness, and division. The enemy works against what Christ is building.

This mixture of wheat and weeds is found in the world, in the Church, and even within our own hearts. Each of us can recognize both good desires and sinful tendencies within ourselves. With the help of God’s grace, we continue trying to cultivate what is good and remove whatever prevents us from bearing fruit.

The parable also warns us against being too quick to judge and condemn others. The servants want to pull up the weeds immediately, but the landowner tells them to wait, because in pulling up the weeds they might also uproot the wheat.

The final judgment belongs to God. Our task is not to decide who is beyond redemption. Our task is to remain faithful, to encourage what is good, to work against evil, and to trust that Christ will finally set all things right.

The second question addressed by these parables is one many of us ask: With so many challenges in my life and so many problems in the world, how can someone as limited as I am make any real difference?

Here, the parable of the mustard seed offers us great encouragement.

The mustard seed begins as something extraordinarily small, but it grows into a large plant in which the birds can find shelter. In the same way, a small act performed with Christ can bear fruit far beyond what we can see.

A kind word, an act of forgiveness, a moment of patience, a prayer offered for another person, or a decision to help someone in need may seem insignificant. Yet God can use these small actions to begin something much larger.

We know how something can “go viral” on social media. A simple picture or short video can be shared again and again until it reaches thousands or even millions of people.

Goodness can also go viral.

One act of compassion can inspire another. One person’s courage can strengthen a whole community. One small seed of faith can grow into something that provides shelter and hope for many others.

We can think of Saint Teresa of Calcutta. She began by serving people who were poor and dying on the streets of one city. Her work seemed small compared with the enormous suffering in the world. Yet that small seed grew. Her witness inspired her religious community and countless others throughout the world to serve people who had been forgotten.

The kingdom also resembles yeast mixed into flour. Yeast is almost invisible, but it gradually works its way through the whole batch of dough. In the same way, God often works quietly. The kingdom does not always arrive through dramatic events. It grows through ordinary people who allow the Gospel to transform their homes, workplaces, parishes, and communities.

Jesus’ parables do not give us the kind of quick and simple answer that an AI program might provide. Instead, they invite us into the mystery of God’s kingdom—a kingdom already present among us, but not yet complete.

Every time we pray the Our Father, we pray for this kingdom:

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

When we pray these words today, let us remember that we are not merely waiting for God’s kingdom to arrive sometime in the future. Through the grace of Christ, it has already begun.

And each of us has the privilege and responsibility of helping it grow—sometimes through great sacrifices, but more often through small seeds of goodness planted faithfully each day.

Which Voice Are You Listening To? Letting God’s Word Bear Fruit

 15 Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A

Every day, many voices compete for our attention, but God’s word is the voice that gives life, nourishes our hearts, and produces lasting fruit. The example of St. Anthony and the parable of the sower show what can happen when we receive Scripture as a personal word from Christ. We prepare good soil in our hearts by making time for God’s word, listening to it personally, and acting upon what Jesus asks of us.

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We are all familiar with the idea of peer pressure. Usually, when we hear that expression, we think of teenagers being pressured by their friends to act in a certain way. But the truth is that peer pressure does not disappear when we grow older.

Whether young or old, all of us are influenced by the voices around us. Every day, countless words come our way—from advertising, social media, family, friends, work, and the wider culture. These voices tell us what to buy, how to behave, what success should look like, and even how we should view other people.

The question, then, is not whether we are listening to voices. We all are. The important question is: Which voice are we listening to?

Today’s readings, especially the first reading and the Gospel, direct our attention to the voice of God—to God’s word. God’s word is different from the many other voices that compete for our attention because God’s word gives life. It nourishes us and produces good fruit within us.

In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah gives us a beautiful image. He compares God’s word to rain and snow falling upon dry ground.

Imagine soil that has been dry for a long time. When the rain begins to fall, the ground slowly softens. The water sinks into the earth, and eventually the seeds hidden beneath the surface begin to sprout and produce fruit.

Isaiah tells us that this is what God’s word does within us. When we listen to Holy Scripture, God’s word enters our hearts. Its effects may not always be immediate or dramatic. Like gentle rain, however, it slowly nourishes us, softens our hearts, and brings about growth.

Among all the voices we hear, God’s word is the voice we most need to listen to because it leads us toward life.

The story of St. Anthony of the Desert provides a powerful example of what God’s word can accomplish in a person’s life.

St. Anthony lived during the third and fourth centuries. His parents died while he was still quite young, leaving him a large inheritance and the responsibility of caring for his younger sister. Although he possessed considerable wealth, Anthony was uncertain about the direction of his life.

During this period, he began attending Mass more frequently and listening carefully to the word of God.

One day, Anthony entered a church just as the Gospel was being proclaimed. He heard the passage in which Jesus says to the rich young man: “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you possess, give to the poor, and come, follow me.”

Anthony had probably heard this Gospel before. But on that particular day, something was different. The soil of his heart had been prepared.

He no longer heard the words as something spoken only in the distant past or directed toward someone else. He heard them as words being spoken personally to him.

The word of God entered his heart and moved him to act. Anthony made provisions for his sister, distributed the remainder of his inheritance to the poor, and eventually went into the desert to devote himself to prayer.

He became one of the great Desert Fathers and is remembered as one of the founders of Christian monasticism. His life shows us the extraordinary fruit that can grow when a person truly receives and acts upon God’s word.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of the sower. The sower scatters the seed generously, and the seed represents the word of God.

God’s word is constantly being sown into our lives. We hear it at Mass. We encounter it when we read Scripture. The important question is whether the soil of our hearts is prepared to receive it.

Will the word enter our hearts and transform us? Will it produce fruit, or will it be crowded out by the many other voices around us?

There are three practical ways that we can prepare our hearts to receive God’s word.

The first is to make space for God’s word.

When we come to Mass, are we attentive to the readings? Perhaps we could read them before Mass so that we are better prepared to hear them proclaimed.

We can also make a habit of listening to God’s word each day. Even a small amount of time can have a powerful effect. We might read the Gospel of the day and then spend two or three minutes in silence.

Like rain falling gently upon the earth, a few minutes with Scripture each day can nourish our hearts over time.

We receive so many words through the news, social media, entertainment, and the people around us. Are we also making room for the good seed of God’s word?

The second step is to take God’s word personally.

Sometimes we can listen to Scripture as though it were addressed only to people who lived long ago. Instead, we should approach the Bible with the prayer: “Lord, what are you saying to me?”

What are you trying to teach me? How are you asking me to grow? What part of my life needs healing? How are you encouraging or challenging me?

Like St. Anthony, we should listen to Scripture not simply as a word spoken to someone else, but as a living word that Christ speaks to us here and now.

The third step is to act upon what Christ is saying to us.

God’s word produced fruit in St. Anthony’s life because he responded to it. He heard the word, took it to heart, and acted upon it.

When Christ speaks to us through Scripture, we also need to respond.

Perhaps God is calling us to devote more time to prayer. Perhaps he is inviting us to recognize his love and to live with greater gratitude. Perhaps Jesus is asking us to forgive someone, repair a relationship, or take the first step toward reconciliation. Perhaps he is calling us to serve someone in need.

Whatever the invitation may be, we should take one concrete step in response.

To allow the seed of God’s word to bear fruit, we must make space for it, take it personally, and act upon it.

Again, the question is not whether we are listening to voices. We all hear many voices each day. The real question is: Which voice are we allowing to guide our lives?

God’s word is good. It gives life, offers encouragement, challenges us to grow, and leads us along the right path.

Let us treasure the great gift of Sacred Scripture. Jesus, the divine sower, continues to plant his word within our hearts. Let us pray that his word will always find good soil within us, so that our lives may bear abundant fruit.

Jesus’ Easy Yoke: Finding Rest When Life Feels Heavy

 14 Sunday of Ordinary Time

Jesus does not promise a life without responsibilities, but he does promise rest to those who carry their burdens with him. When our work and duties are motivated by love of God and neighbour, the weight of these burdens is transformed. The Mass, like the Sabbath, helps us remember our deepest identity and the true purpose behind all that we do.

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I think a lot of us can feel quite tired at times. We can feel burdened, and not just physically, but also inside, interiorly. Life can feel like one responsibility after another, one deadline after another. We can be burdened by many different things: responsibilities at work, family responsibilities, health struggles, and even responsibilities in our volunteer work at the church. We can feel burdened. We can feel really tired.

Technology was supposed to relieve a lot of this burden and stress. But when we think about it, perhaps it has even added to it. It has added more emails, more messages to respond to, and more social media to keep up with. Recently, Gallup released its State of the Global Workplace: 2026 report, which found that 40% of employees globally experienced a lot of stress the previous day. Many people are burdened and stressed. And it is not just people who are working. Students also carry a heavy burden. Young people, too, can feel increasingly weighed down.

For this reason, the Gospel today is very relevant and very appealing. It holds out to us a great promise. Jesus says to us in the Gospel from Matthew: “Come to me, all you who labour and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”

That rest is something we desire. We desire for the burden to be removed. And yet, when we look closely at Jesus’ message, he presents us with something of a paradox. Jesus does not promise us a life without responsibility or a life without work. However, and this is very important, Jesus promises us that when we are motivated by the right things, especially love of God and love of neighbour, then our burdens become less heavy. They become something that we bear with Christ.

Let us begin with the example of Jesus himself. In the Gospel, Jesus tells us, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Really? Is that really the case for Jesus?

Let us look at what is happening in the context. Right before this, Jesus has been in a variety of towns: Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. He has been working very hard. His burden does not seem very light. He has been teaching people about God. He has been healing people. He has also been rejected by many people. An easy yoke? A light burden? It does not immediately seem to be the case.

Immediately after this, Jesus will continue on the path that leads to Jerusalem, to his passion and death. His responsibilities seem very weighty indeed. How, then, can he say that his yoke is easy? What makes his burden light? How can he promise us rest?

Within the Gospel we heard today, we find an indication. It is all about what is in Jesus’ heart. Jesus says, “Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart.” And right before this, he praises God his Father for all the goodness and blessings that he gives.

This is central. Jesus has many responsibilities. Jesus has a difficult path. But for him, this burden is made light because his heart is motivated by love. He does everything out of love for God and love for neighbour. Jesus teaches us this same path. When we live in this way, our yoke becomes easier, and we find rest in Christ.

Later in Matthew’s Gospel, in chapter 23, Jesus compares his way to the way of some other teachers and scribes. Jesus says that they “tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders.” In other words, there are some teachers who act out of pride, who want to be seen, praised, esteemed, and placed on a pedestal. They are looking out for themselves.

When we live in that way, the work we do becomes burdensome and tiring. But when we do things with a spirit of love and service, the responsibilities and duties we carry become more manageable. It is then that we experience the rest that Jesus promises us.

We all experience challenges. Jesus does not promise simply to take these away. But when we carry them with love, with service, and with a clear sense of why we do what we do, they become lighter. There is an expression you may have heard before: “The load is heavy, but love changes its weight.” Love changes the weight.

Think, for example, of a parent caring for a young child, getting up frequently at night to care for that child. That is not easy. It is a huge responsibility. But because it is done out of love and care for the child, the burden becomes lighter. When we know why we do what we do, then we begin to experience the rest and the lighter yoke that Jesus gives.

We are trying to do what we do for love of God and love of others. We are trying to do it in a spirit of service. And it is in this way that we journey with Christ, and Christ helps us lift these weighty responsibilities.

Each and every week, when we come here to Mass, we have an opportunity to remind ourselves of this “why,” the purpose for which we do things, the reason behind our responsibilities and work, and the reason these burdens can become lighter.

There are many reasons we come to Mass on Sunday or Saturday evening. We come to gather as a community, to listen to God’s word, and to receive Jesus in Holy Communion. But we can also learn another reason why it is so important to come to Mass. It has to do with what we call living the Sabbath.

Here, I think, we can learn a lesson from our Jewish brothers and sisters. For many of them, the Sabbath is taken very seriously. I remember many years ago, when I was studying in Jerusalem, every Friday evening, about an hour before the Sabbath began, an alarm would sound throughout the city. It alerted people that the Sabbath was about to begin.

Of course, Sabbath means rest. For many Jewish people, this means not doing any work on the Sabbath. But when you speak to a devout Jew, the Sabbath is not simply a breather from the work of the week. It is not just a moment to step back, relax, and store up strength for the week ahead.

The Sabbath is not merely a rest day. The Sabbath is the most important day, because on the Sabbath, you remember why you do what you do for the rest of the week. You remember your truest identity. You remember which relationships matter most.

In the book of Exodus, after the people have been liberated from slavery in Egypt, they are commanded to celebrate the Sabbath each week as a day of rest. Why? Because the Sabbath reminds them that they are not slaves. God has liberated them. God loves them. God has formed them into a community.

The Sabbath is a day to remember the relationships and truths that are most important: our relationship with God, our relationship with family members, our relationship with friends, and the fact that we are bound together in love and called to serve others.

This is also what we are doing when we come to Mass. Of course, Mass can sometimes feel like a burden, and we can be tempted to leave it behind. But coming to Mass each Sunday is an opportunity to remember our deepest identity. We are God’s beloved children. We are a family of faith. We are reminded of our call to serve. And even more than this, in the Mass, we receive the strength to do it: to serve God and to serve our neighbour.

Jesus does not promise us a life free from responsibilities, duties, or struggles. But Jesus does promise us the grace to transform them. Jesus promises us rest. Jesus promises us a lighter yoke.

Let us remind ourselves today of this important truth that we see in the life of Christ himself. Jesus did so much. He did not have an easy path, and neither do we at times. But when we remember the love that God has for us, and when we remember that we do what we do out of love for God and love for neighbour, it is then that we experience the light yoke and the rest that Christ promises.