[It is with the kingdom of heaven as with] a treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
Again, [it is with the kingdom of heaven as with] 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. (Matt 13:44-46)
Before delving into the content of these two parables we should first examine their form. To begin with, this is a double parable. We find a great many texts among the sayings of Jesus that are similarly structured, with double strophes. Recall the saying about tearing out one’s eye and the immediately following one about cutting off one’s hand (Matt 5:29-30). Apparently this kind of two-part parallel composition was not first created for the post-Easter catechesis. Jesus himself must have loved to repeat the same subject with different imagery in order to impress it on the minds of his hearers.
Of course, Jesus did not invent this technique. It was already in use, in the parallelisms in the psalms and the didactic material in the Wisdom literature. But it is striking how frequently and consistently such double strophes appear in Jesus’ teaching in particular.1 To take another example:
I came to bring fire to the earth,
2
and how I wish it were already kindled!
I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! (Luke 12:49-50)
The final clauses of this double saying (“how I wish…” and “what stress I am under…”) are structured in parallel, and the two opening clauses are also related in their content: the fire in the first image corresponds to the water (of baptism) in the second. Jesus first speaks of having come to kindle a fire. That is precisely what “bring fire” means. It is the fire of his message, a fire that kindles and transforms. Certainly he himself had to sink to the depths, to the most desperate straits, as one sinks deep into water at baptism. The two-part structure of the text leaps immediately into view, and the same is true of many of Jesus’ images and parables.
In Matthew 13:44-46, the text we are examining here, the parallel structure is especially obvious. Two people each come across something extremely valuable and precious, and they give up everything in order to acquire it. But just as fire and water contrast in Luke 12:49-50, so here the two actors: the first is a day laborer who has to work in a field that does not belong to him (he has to go and buy it), while the other is a wholesale merchant who has business connections everywhere. Another difference controls this double parable: the day laborer comes across the treasure by pure accident while the merchant has already been seeking precious pearls.
By making this contrast Jesus means to say that the reign of God is open to everyone, poor and rich, and one may encounter it in altogether different ways: suddenly, unexpectedly, unintentionally, or as something always longed for and sought that at a certain point one actually finds.
But something else about the form of this double parable should be considered: each of its two parts is unusually short. We quite naturally ask ourselves: Did Jesus really tell such compact stories? What is more exciting than stories about finding treasure? Why did he not draw out two such naturally absorbing stories at length, telling them in such a way that the tension steadily increased—for example, the way he did in the story of the lost son (Luke 15:11-32)? That parable is incomparably longer and more vivid than Matthew 13:44-46. Why the brevity here?
The answer could be that obviously Jesus did tell his parables at greater length, and it was the teachers and theologians of the early communities who had to compress them into a brief form and a manageable structure so that they could be handed on more easily. It could have happened that way. But it could have been completely different; it could well be that Jesus himself concluded a longer discourse on the reign of God with a brief parable the audience could remember. It would have had the function of setting an ending to the discourse and sending the hearers away with something to think about. We have to reckon with the fact that Jesus could do many different things, that he was a master of both short and long forms simply because he was a highly talented teacher. So much for the form of Matthew 13:44-46. Now for a closer examination of its content!
The parable of the treasure in the field presupposes something familiar in its day that scarcely exists among us now, namely, hiding treasure. At that time it was the order of the day. There were no savings banks, no safe-deposit boxes, and normally no houses that could not easily be broken into. It was literally possible to break into the average house in Palestine by simply digging through the mud-brick wall. The technical term for “breaking in” translates to “digging one’s way through.”3
Besides that, there were constant wars, pillagings, attacks by robbers, and fires. Hence, money and valuable objects were buried, and it could easily happen that when war swept through a locality the buried treasures were not dug up again and lay forgotten. It happened now and then that someone discovered a buried treasure in a field. There were even people who specialized in searching for forgotten treasure; in Jewish culture they were called “earth churners,” “wall knockers,” or “beam breakers.”4 That is the background of the first parable. We can imagine the action of the story something like this:
A day laborer is working in a field. He is a wage worker; the field does not belong to him. That he is poor is evident from the fact that he has to sell “everything” he has to be able to buy the field: his broken-down house, its furniture and utensils, a few tools, his donkey. His plowshare struck the treasure—probably a large clay jar full of silver coins—while he was plowing the field. After he has counted it and assured himself of its enormous value he hastily throws dirt back on the object he has discovered, perhaps looking furtively around to see if anyone is watching him. Then, with unspeakable joy, he turns everything he has into cash and buys the field. That way he can be sure that no one can subsequently challenge his possession of the treasure. He is not bothered by having to sell everything he has because his loss is nothing in comparison to what he has to gain.
In the second parable the milieu shifts. The actor is no longer a poor person but a wealthy merchant. This man is not described as a kapelos, a small shopkeeper, but as emporos, that is, a wholesale merchant, a man who imports and exports. The story takes place not in the country but in the city, perhaps in the course of a trading journey and probably even overseas somewhere. The merchant is apparently a specialist in pearls; he deals in them and is constantly searching for more. Pearls were highly sought after in antiquity; they were then what big diamonds are to us. Immense sums were paid for the most perfect examples.
One day the merchant comes across a pearl of unusual size and beauty. The pearl fisher or intermediate dealer is asking quite a bit for it, but the specialist knows that in the right place and at the right time he will obtain a price for this pearl that would make your head swim. So he sells all his property, everything he can turn into liquid capital, and buys the pearl. It is the deal of his lifetime.
What do these two parables mean to say? The introduction in each case is crucial; it does not say “the reign of God is like a hidden treasure” (as most translations have it) and certainly not “it is a hidden treasure,” but “it is with the reign of God as in the following event.” It is the whole event that is compared to the reign of God—from the lucky find through the selling of the property to the giant transactions the day laborer and the merchant make in the end. Hence many interpretations and translations are too narrow and one-sided when they try to find the crucial point or the central meaning of the two parables in one particular part or object.
For example, it is repeatedly said that the point of both parables is the enormous value of what is found. The reign of God is as precious as the important treasure and the shimmering pearl. Another position says no, the infinite value of the reign of God is not what is decisive here. Rather, the point is that because of the inconceivable value of the reign of God one must sacrifice everything.
What is crucial is the giving, the renunciation of property, the unlimited willingness to sacrifice.5
No, indeed, other interpreters say. That is not the crucial point either. The day laborer has encountered a unique opportunity that will never come again in his impoverished life. Likewise the merchant: never again in his life will he see such a pearl. So those hearing the parable should recognize the unique situation in which they are placed. Now, at this hour, God is offering salvation, and now, at this hour, it must be seized.
A fourth position says that this does not really grasp the parable of the treasure in the field either. The day laborer acquires his discovery by cunning, not to say fraud. He leaves the owner of the field in the dark about what he has found. He is thus one of those “immoral heroes” in Jesus’ parables, and what Jesus truly wants to bring to light here is that everything depends on a decisive seizing of the moment, an engagement that goes for broke, that quickly, recklessly, and with complete goal-directedness risks everything on one throw of the dice. The reign of God needs crooks like that.6 There is even a fifth position that interprets the double parable to say that the real point is the overflowing joy with which the two finders sell everything. There, and nowhere else, lies the accent, and both parables must be interpreted in terms of just that.7
Thus two relatively brief and simple parables can create so much controversy! We have to object to the five types of interpretation so briefly sketched here that they do not take the narrative structure of parables seriously. Despite all their brevity and conciseness, they tell stories. And it is essential to a story that one be carried along by it and then possibly see the world and oneself in a different light—or that one for the first time catches a glimpse of what the reign of God could be about. But that means we cannot focus with Aristotelian logic on a single point in the narrative. The story does have its own internal direction, and it is by no means arbitrary. But to grasp it one has to surrender oneself to the whole story, follow it step by step, and continually discover new aspects of it.
Obviously the treasure and the pearl are of incomparable value. Obviously the occasion is unique and will never return. Obviously in such a situation one must act decisively and go for broke. Obviously one must give everything to achieve the reign of God; only those who lose their life will gain it. This dread paradox is also apparent in our double parable, just as it appears again and again throughout Jesus’ whole proclamation.
And yet, all that is embedded in and must be read in light of the unimaginable joy with which the two treasure finders act. “In joy he goes” cannot be missed. In that, the fifth position is correct. The joy and fascination of the find are so great that they shape the whole event. The day laborer does not hesitate for a second, nor does the merchant. They are captivated by the brilliance of the treasure and the shimmer of the pearl. They have been seized by a joy that exceeds all measure. This does not exclude the fact that (as we see in the action of the day laborer) they act cleverly.
Jesus is here speaking a crucial truth, and what is so marvelous is that he does not formulate it as a theory but tells it as a story. To be so moved by God’s cause that one gives everything for its sake is not something one can ultimately do out of a bare awareness of duty, a “thou shalt!” or certainly “you must!” That we freely will what God wills is evidently possible only when we behold bodily the beauty of God’s cause, so that we take joy in and even lust after what God wants to do in the world, and so that this desire for God and God’s cause is greater than all our human self-centeredness.8
The merchant holds to the light the pearl he has finally found, and the day laborer buries his hands in the silver coins. For Jesus, the reign of God is palpable and visible. It does not exist merely within people, and it is not hidden somewhere beyond history. Even now it can be seen, grasped, acquired, taken in exchange. That is precisely why it fascinates people and moves them to change their whole lives for the sake of the new, without in the process losing their freedom. The brilliance and joy of the reign of God are ultimately the gravity that moves us and that again and again causes the grace of God to win out in this world.
Jesus’ Fundamental Choice
It seems to me that the parables of the treasure and the pearl represent a key with whose help we can understand Jesus himself more profoundly. Every really good text anyone speaks or writes is autobiographical to some degree. The same is true of this double parable. Here Jesus has told something of his own story and the basic choice in his life—perhaps entirely unconsciously, but perhaps deliberately, though with reticence and the most profound tact.
Jesus himself had, after all, given up everything else for the sake of the reign of God. He had abandoned the security of family and marriage. He had relinquished the joy of having children. He had rejected the possibility of having a house or property or other means of security. Still more profoundly, he had refused to make himself central and so exercise religious power—the most sublime and dangerous form of power. He corrects someone who calls him “good teacher”: “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone” (Mark 10:18). Jesus does not live for himself but is totally and exclusively surrendered to the cause of God. What is crucial is that this fundamental choice did not make him an oppressed and tortured person out of whom emanates a fear of having missed out on something, or a person in whom a renunciation with which he himself has not fully come to terms is translated into aggression against others.
Jesus is a man of unheard-of freedom. He is not the type of the tortured, bitter, dissatisfied, or disappointed. Nor is he the type of the tragic or heroic. He remains to the end a free person, despite the radicality with which he goes his own way. He remains to the end a man of complete dedication and humanity.
I think the double parable of the treasure and the pearl gives us the key to Jesus’ inner freedom and unbrokenness: it is true that Jesus had surrendered everything and continued to the end to give his all; in the end he had to die. But he did so like the day laborer and the merchant, who do not regret for a second the loss of their old property but instead act out of an unspeakable joy and fascination. In the blinding light of the discovery everything else pales.
It is only in this context that Jesus’ celibacy is comprehensible. If Jesus remained unmarried it was not because he despised sexuality or had a false attitude toward human physicality but simply because what had happened to him was like what he tells of in the parable of the hidden treasure and the precious pearl: he was seized and overpowered by the bliss of the reign of God—and not a reign that was coming some time in the future, but one that was beginning already, that one could already gain, that one could already cash in and deal with today.
The reign of God is happening already here in this world—today. It is happening wherever people believe the Gospel, accept the reign of God, allow their lives to be changed because of their fascination with it—when they turn back from their own life plans and toward the new thing God wants to create. The parable of the treasure and the pearl is about this earth, now, today.
Brothers, Sisters, Houses, Fields
The new thing that comes with the reign of God is not something purely spiritual, deeply hidden in individual hearts. The new thing was as concrete for Jesus as the treasure in the field and the precious pearl. It is the community of disciples he gathers around him. It is the “new family” of those who follow him. It is all those who hear his words and become sisters and brothers to one another. One day Peter says to Jesus:
“Look, we have left everything and followed you.” Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields—with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life.” (Mark 10:28-30)
This paradoxical saying shows how real the promises on which Jesus and his disciples are counting truly a
re. They have left everything: houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers. But everything they have left they will receive back abundantly “now in this age”: a hundred sisters, a hundred brothers, a hundred mothers, houses, and fields. Jesus by no means meant that symbolically. He is talking about real relationships. He means really a hundred brothers and really a hundred sisters. He means a perceptible wealth in brotherhood and sisterhood. All this takes place on the ground of the new family, the common life of the community of disciples—in which, it is true, fathers no longer have a role to play. The patriarchalism of the Near Eastern family has been destroyed. God alone will now become the measure of genuine fatherhood (cf. Matt 23:9).
With all that, Jesus kindled a fire that has never been put out. It flamed up anew on Pentecost and burned in the communities that, in an unbelievably short time, sprang up all around the Mediterranean. Those communities understood themselves not as religious groupings in which individuals came together in order to be able to live their private piety in a better way. They regarded themselves as a social body “in Jesus Christ,” a new family, a new society.
Believing and allowing oneself to be baptized in the name of Jesus meant a transformation of one’s whole life, a new common life in the spirit of Jesus—and, where necessary, even a counter-world against ancient society. Faith in Jesus Christ was from the beginning more than mere interiority. Where the issue is the Gospel of Jesus it is always about the world and transforms the world. The widespread notion that within the church Christians learn faith in order to apply it in the world is a perversion, to the very root, of what Jesus actually wanted. Faith is from its first second about forming and transforming the world, and the church is the place where the material of the world is grasped and redeemed by faith.
Where the church remained true to Jesus it was always “all in”; it was a new society.9 It not only demanded justice; it lived justice. It not only preached freedom but was itself a place of freedom. It saw itself not as a place for reflection where one was armed and equipped for the building sites in the world but as the building site itself. It hoped not only for a future life in heaven; it knew that in the common life of the baptized heaven is already revealed and the precious treasure has already been found. It was certain that within the space of its communities creation was already on the way to its integrity and the form planned for it. In short, it saw itself as the beginning of the eschatological, liberated world, the beginning of the “new creation” as “new earth.”
Jesus of Nazareth Page 31
