Scripture Matthew 6:19-21; 13:44-46 NRSVUE
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and reburied; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
“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.”
Meditation
We have three short parables this evening, all about treasure. First, a word about parables. A parable is a story, but, usually, a story that doesn’t make much sense to the reader or hearer. Jesus’s stories tend to be provocative, designed to make the listener scratch their head, because they don’t seem to align with the things we all know, like:
The most important thing is financial stability. I mean, who can argue with that? We have all seen or known the pain and frustration and suffering of those who are teetering on the edge financially. How can we listen to a guy who crashed on people’s couches as he went from village to village, warning people not to get too attached to stuff like houses and enough money to buy prescriptions?
Now, a word about treasure, in the most common understanding. Who remembers the first story you ever read or heard or saw on TV or in the movies that featured buried treasure? For me it was Treasure Island, which seemed like it was really for boys until I saw the Muppet version. But the thing I notice about stories like that—the mad search for the treasure, the obsession—is that they rarely end well. Maybe some worthy person finds the treasure and claims it, but even then, it’s often not enough for them. Treasure Island ends with Jim, the boy for whom it’s a coming-of-age story, going back to the island, a place of chaos and death. He isn’t satisfied with what he has.
Our first short parable is from the very end of the passage we were reading last week, for Ash Wednesday. Jesus is summarizing his instructions on prayer and fasting and giving, wherein he warns us not to pray or fast or give for the wrong reasons, for our personal gain in terms of stature or reputation. He calls these things earthly treasure, and reminds us that they have their limits. Beautiful tapestries can be eaten by moths. Shiny things can grow dull and rusty and lose their value. Our reputation can change in the blink of an eye. Instead, he says, store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, because, where your treasure is, there your heart will be.
It’s tempting to think of “treasures in heaven” as good points with God—letting God see all along how good we are, so that our passing through the pearly gates will be simple and smooth. I think we need to resist that interpretation of Jesus’ words here.
Jesus talks about the kingdom of heaven, all through the gospel of Matthew. It’s always tempting to think of that as a promised afterlife with God, angels, beautiful harp music, and the people we love. But that is not what Jesus is saying. Jesus consistently uses that phrase in conjunction with things that are in the here and now. Our other two tiny parables are a great example. The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure in a field, or a pearl of great value. In both parables, the seeker sells everything else they have in pursuit of that treasure. The treasure isn’t something designed to get you into heaven; it’s something that reorients your life completely.
A personal story: Years ago, my ex and I chased what he believed was his treasure to the Triple Cities: he wanted to study at Binghamton University to get a PhD and become a college professor. Ironically, both he and I found treasure—real treasure—here in the Southern tier, but for both of us, it wasn’t the thing we went searching for initially. For him, it was a life devoted to music. For me, it was my calling to ministry. And for both of us—and I say this in the context of our continuing deep affection and care for one another—for both of us, our found treasure was also the right life partner.
Our treasure is the thing it is worth reorienting ourselves for, the thing that gives our lives meaning, the thing that brings us, not ease, or even happiness, but a deep knowing that it is right. It is the thing that reveals the truth about us and about our lives. We find our treasure when we can be honest about ourselves, about our limits, and about what truly brings us to life.
Kate Bowler talks in a meditation she shared this weekend about what Lent is NOT. She says,
If Lent is a reset, that is not Lent.
If it’s a glow up or a plan for forty days to get it together, that is not Lent.
If it promises relief, or closure, or resolution, that is not Lent.
If it expects your grief to behave, or your body to cooperate, or your longing to quiet down, that is not Lent.
It started with dirt, you are finite, and that is not a problem to be solved.
If Lent is here to fix you or optimize you or make you impressive, that is not Lent.
Lent interrupts the fantasy that one day you will wake up finished, less tender, less restless, less achy, less human.
The ache is not a phase, the ache is not a failure, it‘s just what it means to be alive.
So, this is Lent. No solutions, just honesty, limits, longing, dust.
We find our treasure when we understand our humanity, that which makes us most deeply human. Having been made by God, in God’s own image, oddly enough, is the thing that makes us most human. The treasure is within us, only waiting for us to find it. The kingdom of heaven is a way of living that allows our truth to shine, and which connects us to all who are made in God’s image—everyone.
Where you treasure is, there will be your heart, also. Praying for each of us to recognize the treasure within, and to share it generously.
Thanks be to God. Amen.