Seventeenth Sunday

That first reading, when Solomon encounters God in a dream and is asked, “What would you like me to give you?” presents us with a fascinating question. If God appeared to us in the same way and asked the same thing, what would our answer be? What would we ask for? Perhaps that’s something for us to ponder.

In Solomon’s case, he asks for “a heart to understand” - a heart able to discern between good and evil. In other words, he asks for wisdom, the very gift for which he would later become renowned. And because he did not ask for long life, status or great wealth, as many would - Solomon pleased the Lord.

The gift of wisdom helps us to distil life down to what is truly valuable. A lesson that Jesus unfolds in the gospel passage, continuing from last week the parables of the kingdom. 

He fires them out, one after another - the treasure hidden in a field, the pearl of great price, the dragnet cast into the sea. There's an urgency which emanates from His longing to truly bring understanding about the value of the Kingdom. The Kingdom is worth more than anything we will ever encounter in this life. Even the deepest human love we experience is only a glimpse, a foretaste, of what awaits in the kingdom to come.

These parables ask us, “Do you recognise what is right before you?” The man who finds the treasure and the merchant who discovers the pearl both recognise that they have encountered something beyond all earthly value. Their response is immediate and wholehearted. They do not pause to weigh up the alternatives or calculate the cost. With joyful conviction they part with everything they own, because they know that nothing they surrender can compare with what they have found. Once we truly recognise Christ and place Him at the centre of our life, every other ambition, possession and attachment is seen in its proper place - nothing can compare with the surpassing worth of belonging to Him.

Recognising true value changes the way we make every other decision. We experience that, in a much smaller way, in ordinary moments of life. Think of the times we’ve been handed a wine list in a restaurant

And we open it to find elegant descriptions: “notes of gooseberry,” “hints of oak,” “a lingering citrus finish.”

But for most of us, our eyes don’t linger on the descriptions for very long. They quickly drift, over to the prices on the right-hand side. Especially these days -especially in Harrogate. Suddenly that “bold and sophisticated Bordeaux” loses some of its attraction when it turns out to cost the equivalent of a day’s wages.

The Chablis quietly slips out of consideration. The Margaux is admired - but only from afar. And, before long we’re gravitating towards a modest Pinot Grigio or a sensible Rioja, our desires quietly coming into line with what we believe is attainable.

And there's nothing wrong with sensible budgeting. But spiritually, we can end up approaching faith in a similar way, working out the cost before we have grasped the value. Our attitude being “What’s the minimum expected of me?” rather than “What treasure is God offering me?”

That was the problem with the Pharisees who reduced religion to legalism. It was no longer about sacrifice and prayer and more about how many times they ritually washed their hands, how broad were their phylacteries, how long the tassels that hung from their garments. They knew the price of everything but the value of nothing.

A phylactery, by the way, if you've ever wondered, was a small leather box containing handwritten passages of scripture which devout Jewish men traditionally strapped to the forehead and to the left arm during ritual prayers - outward signs of piety like a crucifix or scapular or the ashes at the start of Lent. Jesus was condemning not their use but the times they were used as badges of superiority or pride.

He calls us beyond treating religion as an obligation or a badge of honour. He's at pains, in these parables, to show how God’s Kingdom demands real commitment. Remember the old analogy of the full English breakfast: the chicken is involved, but the pig is committed. Christ doesn’t call us merely to admire the Gospel from a safe distance, but to invest in it, allowing it to shape not just our Sunday morning but our hearts and lives.

The value we place on something is measured by the sacrifice we are willing to make for it.

As children we were urged to work hard so that we might build a good life and contribute something worthwhile to the world. As we grow older we are encouraged to look after our health; dentists remind us to care for our teeth, doctors emphasise the importance of diet and exercise, and financial advisers urge us to plan wisely for the future.

Human wisdom constantly tells us to prepare for what lies ahead.

And yet we may fail to apply this wisdom to our spiritual lives, giving in to the temptation to live only for the present moment.

Commitment to the kingdom means keeping our eyes lifted towards the horizon - one brightened forever by the saving actions of Christ upon the cross.

That is why Jesus speaks so passionately about sacrifice for the kingdom, the hidden treasure, the pearl of great price. The man who discovered that treasure sold everything he had in order to possess it. The merchant did the same to obtain the pearl. The kingdom costs us something.

And unlike teeth, pensions and high blood pressure, it is never too late with God. Remember the prodigal son? Or those workers who arrived at the vineyard at the eleventh hour and still got a full day's pay? It's never too late.

Again and again Scripture reminds us that God waits for us with open arms. No matter how many times we turn away from Him, He does not turn away from us. We need only speak the word and, like the prodigal son, we are welcomed home.

And so we return to Solomon and to the question God asked him: “What would you like me to give you?” May our answer be the same as his. 'Lord, give us wise and discerning hearts, able to recognise the treasure hidden in the field, the pearl of great price - the Kingdom of God bought for us by the incomparable sacrifice of Your Son'.