01.04. Chapter 3. The Treasure and the Pearl

Chapter 3.
The Treasure and the Pearl Or, The Kingdom of God the Summum Bonum.

These two parables constitute together but one text, and teach the same general lesson, namely, the incomparable worth of the kingdom of God. They show us how the kingdom ought to be esteemed, in whatever esteem it may in fact be held. They are thus an important supplement to the parable of the Sower. That parable teaches that the kingdom of heaven is far enough from being the chief good to many. To some it is simply nothing at all, the word of the kingdom awakening no interest whatever in their minds; to others it is but the occasion of a short-lived excitement; to a third class it is only one of many objects of desire; only to a chosen few is it the first thing worthy to be loved above all things, with pure, undivided, devoted heart. The two parables now to be considered teach us that the kingdom deserves to be so loved by all. It is a treasure of such value that all other possessions may reasonably be given in exchange for it; a pearl of such excellence that he who sells all his property in order to obtain it may not justly be accounted a fool. How quietly and simply is this momentous truth insinuated in those two little similitudes! One is tempted to say that so important a doctrine should have been taught with more emphasis and at greater length. We might have said this with some show of reason had these two sayings been the only texts in the recorded teaching of Christ containing the doctrine in question. But they are not; they are simply the only recorded instances in which the Great Teacher set forth that doctrine in parabolic form. The truth that the kingdom of heaven is the summum bonum to which everything else must be subordinated, and if necessary sacrificed, occupied the foremost place in His doctrinal system. He taught that truth on many occasions, to many persons, to individual followers, to the collective body of disciples, to the multitude at large, and often in most startling terms. "Let the dead bury their dead, but go thou and preach the kingdom of God."[1] "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and follow Me."[2] "If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me."[3] "If any man come to Me, and hate not his father and mother and wife and children and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple."[4] What are these, and many other kindred sayings, but an emphatic proclamation of the truth taught in our parables that the Kingdom of heaven or its King (the two are practically one) is entitled to the first place in our regard, as at once man’s chief good and chief end?

[1] Luk 9:60.

[2] Mat 19:21.

[3] Mat 16:24.

[4] Luk 14:26. When and to whom these parables were spoken cannot with perfect certainty be decided. From the manner in which they are recorded by the Evangelist, there is, of course, a presumption in favour of the view that they were uttered at the same time as the preceding four, but to the disciples, after the multitude to which the parable of the Sower was addressed had been dismissed. But it is quite possible that they belonged originally to another connection, and formed part of a discourse having for its aim to enforce the precept, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God." The abrupt and disconnected way in which, according to the reading approved by critics, the former of the two is introduced, seems to favour this view. "The kingdom of heaven is like unto a treasure hid in a field;" so, without any mediating word like the πάλιν in the received text, does the narrative pass from the interpretation of the parable of the Tares to the wholly dissimilar parable of the Hidden Treasure, suggesting the idea of a water-worn pebble which has been rolled away by the stream from its original bed. And as the parable might have been uttered on a different occasion, so it might have been addressed to a different audience than Matthew’s narrative seems to imply; not to the disciples, but to a miscellaneous group of hearers like that which listened to the parable of the Sower. Such a view, indeed, would be inadmissible if we could attach as much importance as Origen did to the circumstance that the last three parables in the group of seven are not called parables.[1] That Father, in his commentary on the passage, suggests as the reason of the fact stated that the last three were spoken to the disciples, not to the multitude; proceeding on the assumption that parables were meant exclusively for those without, and therefore holding that we ought not to call the three last figurative representatives of the Divine kingdom parables, but similitudes.[2] If this opinion were correct, we might infer, from the simple fact that the name parable is not applied to these similitudes, that they were spoken not to a miscellaneous audience, but to a closer circle of the disciples. But it is not true that parables were spoken to the multitude alone, and therefore the non-use of the name in the case of the last three parables can have no such significance as Origen alleges. It is indeed incredible that the Evangelist can have seriously meant to withhold the name from these parables as inapplicable, when he had previously applied it to the equally brief similitudes of the Mustard Seed and the Leaven. The omission of the name must be regarded as purely accidental.

[1] They are introduced with ὁμοία ἐστὶν.

[2] ὁμοιώσεις from ὁμοία.

We proceed to the consideration of our two parables—those of the Treasure and the Pearl, placing them as of kindred significance side by side, and treating them in the first place as one text in the exposition of the great truth which they teach in common, reserving for the close observations on the points in which they differ.[1] The kingdom of heaven is like unto a treasure hid in the yield,[2] which a man having found hid, and in his joy[3] he goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchantman[4] seeking goodly pearls, who when he had found one pearl of great price went and sold all that he had, and bought it.—Mat 13:44-46.

[1] The same method of treatment is adopted by Greswell and Arndt.

[2] ἐν τῶ ἀγρῷ; "in the field in which it lies" (Meyer). "The field in which the finder was working" (Greswell). "The article implies that in the mind of hearers the idea of a hidden treasure would be associated with that of a field as the usual hiding-place" (Goebel).

[3] The αὐτοῦ is genit subj., not obj. So Meyer. Vide also Trench.

[4] ἀνθρώπῳ ἔμπορῳ. The idea of travelling is involved in the term ἔμπορος. Bengel defines ἔμπορος as one "qui mercaturæ causâ peregrinatur et navigat." Greswell says, "His proper character is that of a collector of pearls, and probably of a trader in them, though this is no necessary supposition" (vol. ii. p. 226). For additional remarks see p. 88. The two emblems here employed by Jesus were fitly chosen to impress an ancient Eastern audience, and to serve in their case the purpose intended—that of representing the kingdom of heaven as the Absolute Good, and as such worthy that all should be given in exchange for it. In our day and land such emblems would be less appropriate. The finding of a treasure hid in a field is so rare an occurrence in modern European experience that to employ it as a parabolic representation of the finding of the Divine kingdom would be to commit the mistake of making that which ought to be an object of desire and hope to all appear so improbable as to be practically unattainable. It was otherwise in the age. and country when and where the parable was spoken. Then to hide treasure in the earth, in sepulchres, or any other place where the owners deemed their property would be secure, was a not uncommon practice; and to find such a hidden treasure was by no means an unexampled felicity.[1] Equally apt to the circumstances of the time is the emblem employed in the second parable. In our day a pearl could not properly be selected as the fittest representative of the highest good. The diamond is our most precious stone. But in ancient times the diamond, though not unknown, and though highly valued, was too rare to be a suitable emblem of the kingdom of heaven in a popular discourse. The pearl was the more appropriate object for such a purpose, because it was to the ancients what the diamond is to us—well known, highly prized, and, when of large size and pure quality, exceeding costly. The romantic theory current in ancient times respecting the origin of pearls served to enhance their fitness to body forth the things of the kingdom. It was believed that the pearl was formed by the dew of heaven entering into the shell wherein it was found, the quality and form of the pearl depending on the purity of the dew, the state of the atmosphere, and even the hour of the day at the time of its conception.[2] There is reason to think that the true cause of pearl formation is of a much more prosaic character; the probable account offered by modern science being that pearls are the result of a process of animal secretion provoked by the intrusion of a foreign substance, such as a grain of sand, within the shell, the fish covering the alien particle with pearly matter to protect itself from irritation. But the ancient theory, however baseless, is still full of interest as serving to show the esteem in which pearls were held. Worthless as science, it is valuable as poetry, as a standing evidence that the pearl was to the ancients an object of admiration, wonder, almost of worship; for it is only noble, precious, worshipful things that the human mind seeks to glorify by bringing into play the resources of its imagination.

[1] On this view that the treasure was hidden needs no special explanation. A hid treasure was simply in those days a natural emblem of a thing of great value. Goebel thinks the kingdom is compared to a hid treasure, to describe its character in opposition to the outward and sensuous ideas of the kingdom current among the Jews.

[2] For an account of the opinions of the ancients on the origin of pearls, vide Origen’s commentary on the parable.

Here then were two emblems fitly chosen to set before an ancient Jewish audience the absolute worth of the Divine kingdom,—a hidden treasure, and a very precious pearl, the best of a precious kind. The former of the two is indeed not so apparently apt to the purpose, as a treasure may be great or small, and it is not said that the treasure was a great one. But that is only not said because it is taken for granted. The presumption is that a hidden treasure will be of great value—something worth hiding, and also worth finding. That the treasure in the parable was of great value is further implied in the joy of the finder. He sees at a glance the vast extent of his treasure-trove, and his cunning in hiding it, and his joy in going to take steps towards securing it for himself, unerringly reveal the estimate he has formed. The second of the two emblems is self-evidently fitly chosen. The best and Most precious of all existing pearls signified an immense, almost fabulous sum of money. The two famous pearls possessed by Cleopatra, according to Pliny the largest known, were valued each at about ₤80,000 in our money. Surely a, sum fit to represent infinite wealth to the popular mind, though the profligate Queen of Egypt could afford to drink one of the pearls dissolved in a menstruum at a supper given to her lover![1]

[1] For numerous particulars respecting the value of pearls in ancient times, consult Greswell’s note in his work on the Parables, vol. ii. p. 220. The comparisons of our parables, while naturally suggesting the thought that the kingdom of heaven is the summum bonum, at the same time felicitously demonstrate the reasonableness of the demand that all be sacrificed for the kingdom. The conduct of the actors in the two parables was thoroughly reasonable. Both were gainers by the transaction of selling their all for the sake of obtaining the precious object. The buyer of the field containing the hid treasure was manifestly a gainer; for the field itself, apart from the treasure, assuming that the bargain between him and the seller was a fair one, was a full equivalent for the whole of his property which he realised in order to purchase it. The hidden treasure, whose existence was unknown to the seller, and therefore not taken into account, he had into the bargain. Provided the purchase of the field made his right to the treasure-trove secure,[1] loss in that transaction was impossible. The buyer of the high-priced pearl was likewise a gainer from a mercantile point of view. It might indeed seem a precarious proceeding to put all one’s property (not merely all his other jewels, but all he had[2]) into one single article, however precious. But the very preciousness of that one article implies that pearls of excellent quality were much in demand, so that a purchaser might safely be counted on. The merchantman was sure of his money whenever he wished to realise, and in all probability would receive for the pearl a sum far exceeding what he had paid for it; for he had gone to a far-off land to buy it from the pearl-fisher, at a moderate though great cost, and had brought it, let us say, from India[3] to the Western centres of wealth, where rich men abounded and luxury prevailed. In saying this we go upon the assumption that the purchaser of the pearl in the parable was really a merchant. If he was no merchant, but only a pearl-fancier and collector, who went to the ends of the earth in quest of the rarest samples, and having found one of incomparable excellence, hesitated not, in his passion for such valuables, to give all that he had that he might become its possessor, the case is altogether different He was then a fool from the mercantile point of view; if he was a gainer at all, it was certainly not in money, but in the. gratification of æsthetic taste and romantic desire. We shall not now decide peremptorily between these two views of the pearl-collector’s conduct, for in either aspect it might serve as a parable of the kingdom. He who gives all for the kingdom of God is truly wise, but in the world’s view he is a fool; and of his folly a man with a craze for collecting pearls for the bare pleasure of possessing them were no unapt emblem.

[1] That it did so seems implied in the incident recorded of R. Emi, referred to by Meyer in his commentary, that he bought a rented field in which he had found a treasure, "ut pleno jure thesaurum possideret omnemque litium occasionem præcideret." Of the treasure-finder, Alford remarks, "he goes, and selling all he has, buys the field, thus (by the Jewish law) becoming the possessor also of the treasure."

[2] Οὐκ εἴπεν ὄτι πἐπρακε πάντας οὔς εἰχεν οὐ γὰς μόνους, οὒς ὁ ζητῶν καλους ραργαρίτας ἐώνηται, πέπρακεν, ἀλλὰ καὶ πάντα ὅσα εἰχεν. Origen, ’Comment. in Evangelium Matthew’

[3] The best pearls were found there or in the Red Sea. On the localities where pearls were found, see Origen, as above; also Greswell’s note, already referred to. Among the localities is our own land or its environing sea. Origen says the second best were found here. Δευτερεύουσι δὲ ὡς ἐν μαργαρίταις οἱ ἐκ τοῦ κατὰ βρεττανίαν ὠκεανοῦ λαμβαόμενοι.

If now men could only be convinced that the kingdom of heaven is like the treasure hid in the field and the precious pearl, and that in giving up all for its sake they were only acting as the buyers of the field and the pearl acted, all would be well. They would then go and do likewise. For men never hesitate to sacrifice all for what they believe to be the chief good. Devotion all the world over is reckless of expense, and acts as if it reckoned the demand of the loved object, that it be first and all else second, no grievous commandment, but a perfectly reasonable requirement. No matter what the object of devotion may be, whether earthly or heavenly, material or mental, its language is that of the impassioned lover:

"By night, by day, afield, at hame, The thoughts of thee my breast inflame, And aye I muse and sing thy name:

I only live to love thee." The devoted disciples of the Rabbis so loved the law which they studied, because they reckoned knowledge of it the chief good. Their masters expressed the sovereign claims of the law in terms not less severe than the severest ever employed by Jesus to assert the claims of the kingdom. In addressing to a certain disciple the apparently harsh injunction, "Let the dead bury their dead, but go thou and preach the kingdom of God," our Lord did, in truth, but report a saying current in Rabbinical circles.[1] And how faithfully did some disciples of the Rabbis comply with such hard requirements in their pursuit of legal lore! Think of the famous Hillel, come all the way from Babylon to Jerusalem to learn wisdom; of whom it is recorded that he was so poor he could not pay the porter’s fee to gain admission into the school, and so was obliged to listen at the window, till on a severe winter night he was almost frozen to death, and had certainly lost his life had. not the darkening of the window by his body, heaped over with falling snow, attracted the attention of those within.[2] Here was one willing to part even with life itself in his devotion to the study of the law. And was not Socrates another of kindred spirit, seeking wisdom with pure elevated heart, and cheerfully subordinating all to the knowledge of the true, the good, and the fair! Listen to his prayer, pagan in form, but thoroughly Christian in import: "O dear Pan and all ye other Gods here! grant me to be beautiful within; and may my external possessions not be hurtful to those which are internal; and may I esteem him rich who is wise; and may my treasure be such as none can carry away save one who is of sober mind."[3] But we are under no necessity to seek illustrations among celebrities. Multitudes of instances of self-sacrificing devotion to wisdom as the chief good might be found among the ranks of poor obscure students attending our schools of learning, whose motto is "To scorn delights and live laborious days," and who would gladly part with their last ten shillings to procure some favourite book, with whose contents they had long desired to become acquainted.

[1] See Cunningham Geikie’s ’Life of Christ,’ vol. ii. p. 160.

[2] See Barclay, ’The Talmud,’ p. 15; also Jost, ’Judenthum,’

[3] Plato, Phaedrus, at the close. The difficulty is to get men to see that the kingdom of God is indeed the summum bonum, and therefore worthy to be loved as Hillel loved the law, and as Socrates loved wisdom, and as every true student loves knowledge. They are prone to ask in sceptical mood, What is this kingdom of heaven that we should seek it as men seek hidden treasure, or buy it at any price as merchantmen buy costly jewels? And we might here attempt a detailed answer to their question; but we shall not. We are not required to do so as expositors of the parables; for the two parables under consideration do not explain to us the nature of the kingdom of heaven, or tell us why it is entitled to be regarded as the chief good; they simply teach that it is entitled, as a matter of fact, to be so regarded. And moreover the attempt were vain; if at least its object were not merely to state truth already well enough known to an ordinarily instructed Christian, but to produce conviction. For it is not man but the Spirit of God that can make any one see the kingdom of heaven and its King in their peerless beauty and worth, so that he shall be willing to part with all for their sake. Christ Himself as a human teacher could not achieve such a result. The very parables before us are possibly a result of his consciousness of inability to do so. For why did He speak to the people in parables but because they seeing saw not; because the things of the kingdom were hidden from their view, and because He all but despaired of opening their eyes?

Instead therefore of repeating common-places of Christian knowledge in the vain hope of communicating spiritual vision, we prefer to confine attention to one point in which the doctrine of these parables seems inconsistent with one of the best ascertained attributes of the kingdom whose advent Jesus announced. We refer to the attribute implied in the title—the kingdom of grace. That the kingdom of heaven, as Christ preached it, was emphatically a kingdom of grace is abundantly evident from the Gospels. It is implied in the fact that Christ called the announcement of the kingdom good tidings. The proclamation of its advent was in His view the Gospel. Hence the burthen of His preaching from the beginning of His ministry was: "The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God is at hand; repent ye and believe the good news."[1] The same truth, that the kingdom announced was a kingdom of grace, is implied in the fact that those who received Christ’s message were a glad company, resembling a wedding-party, while John’s followers resembled a band of pilgrims wending their weary way with sad looks toward some shrine doing penance for their sins. The cause of this difference was this: The kingdom, as John preached it, was awful news, a kingdom of law and retribution; while the kingdom as Jesus preached it was good news, a kingdom of grace and of pardon. The same truth is further implied in the familiar facts that the kingdom, as Jesus preached it, was emphatically a kingdom for the poor, the outcast, the morally degraded, the humble, the child-like: which is only to say in other words that it was a free gift of God’s grace to those who had no wealth, no merit, no consciousness of desert, no pride of virtue.

[1] Mark 1:15. But how then are we to reconcile with this outstanding attribute of the kingdom the representations of the parables, in both of which the material goods, which are emblems of the kingdom, are represented as obtained by purchase? The point is one which forces itself on our attention, for the buying is not a minor, accidental, or insignificant trait, but a leading feature in the parables.[1] It is especially noticeable in the former of the two, where it almost seems as if the speaker gave an artificial turn to the story with express intent to introduce the act of buying. One is inclined to ask, Why not at once appropriate the treasure found; why that roundabout process of buying the field in order to get possession of the hidden store of gold? Would not the direct appropriation of the treasure have been far more in harmony with the genius of the kingdom as a kingdom of grace? Of course the reply which will be given to our query is: The buying of the field was necessary to set the finder right with the law.[2] That may be so, but we question if the answer goes to the root of the matter. For in the first place the process of buying, if it set the finder right with the law, certainly did not set him right with equity: and therefore it was not worth while to ascribe to the actor a conscientiousness which after all was formal not real. Then if, as we admit, it was not necessary for the purpose of the parable to represent the man as having a regard to equity, but simply as determined by all means to obtain the desired boon, there could be no more harm in making him reach his object by a direct breach of equity than by an indirect one. Why could he not carry away his treasure-trove and say nothing about it, but quietly spend it for his own comfort? Undoubtedly the speaker wished to make the treasure-finder a buyer, even when buying was not indispensable in order to possession as it was in the case of the pearl-seeker; as if with express intent to teach that in all cases there must be a buying in order to possession of the kingdom of heaven.

[1] Goebel thinks the didactic drift of the parables is to teach the way in which men must make the kingdom their own. It is rather that they must make it their own at any price. It is worthy of this. But that it has to be bought is also taught by implication.

[2] Vide on this point note on p. 73. But how, we again ask, reconcile this doctrine with the nature of the kingdom as a kingdom of grace, and with its catholicity as a kingdom offered to all? If the kingdom is of grace why buy, and if it is for all what of those who have not wherewith to purchase the field in which the treasure is hid, of whom the number is at all times great? The solution of the puzzle is simple. Buying, translated into other language, means showing by action that we really do esteem the kingdom of God to be the chief good; and that all who are to receive the kingdom must do, and that moreover all, however beggared in purse or character, have it in their power to do. The kingdom must be subjectively as well as objectively the summum bonum, and wherever it is so, means will be found to make the fact evident. That such subjective appreciation manifested in action is quite compatible with the nature of the kingdom may be proved by a reference to the parable of the Supper.[1] There the highest good is represented as eating bread in the kingdom of God, as the result of accepting an invitation to a feast. That the kingdom is a gift of grace could not be more clearly taught than by such a form of representation. Yet even here there must needs be a buying; the prophetic paradox finds its fulfilment, for even he that hath no money, the outcast of the highway and hedges, buys and eats; buys wine and milk without money and without price.[2] The men who were first bidden did not partake of the feast because they did not buy; that is to say, because they were unwilling for a season to leave off farming operations and forego connubial bliss to enjoy the hospitality of the neighbour who issued the invitations. They did not value the feast enough to be willing to make such a sacrifice for it. And the men who were last bidden and who came, with what did they buy? With a victory over the temptation to think that so great a bliss could not possibly be meant for such wretches as they were. They had to be compelled, not because they were indifferent, but because the invitation seemed too good news to be true. And the price they paid was the renunciation of their doubts, and the exchange of the humility of unbelief for the deeper, truer humility of faith, which could dare to believe that God’s grace could reach even unto such as they. And as none can be poorer than they, it thus appears that it is always possible for one who is in earnest to buy the kingdom. In the spiritual world there is no risk of a man, who greatly values the hidden treasure, finding himself so poor that he cannot purchase the field in which it lies. Though the parable seems to have no consideration for the poor, it is only on the surface. Rightly understood, it is quite in harmony with the spirit of Him who declared it to be His mission to preach the Gospel to the poor. All may have wherewithal to buy the field. For all men have hearts, and he who loves the hidden treasure with all his heart can show his love, and that is all the price that is needed. The presence of the love in the heart shows itself very variously in different men; the All which is sacrificed is very diverse in degree and in kind for one from what it is for another. The price which the fishermen of Galilee paid for the kingdom of God was their fishing boats and nets; a very humble all, but quite sufficient to buy the field and the precious pearl. The price which the young man, who came peeking eternal life, was asked to pay, was his large fortune, a much larger all, yet not more than sufficient. The price paid by Saul of Tarsus was his carefully elaborated system of legal righteousness. Augustine, on the other hand, bought the kingdom by a price different from all these, viz. by parting with the darling object of a guilty passion. The price, we repeat, is various in degree and in kind. But the poorest in purse or reputation can find a price of some sort wherewith to buy the kingdom. For the kingdom, when it comes to men, finds every one of them either loving something that ought not to be loved at all, or loving some legitimate object of affection too well; and its demand is that such sinful or inordinate attachment should cease in its own favour, and when the demand is complied with, the price which buys the chief good is paid.

[1] Luk 14:15.

[2] Isa 55:1. From the foregoing explanation of the buying of the kingdom it will be seen that it is quite compatible not only with the nature of the latter as a kingdom of grace, but with the joyous spirit which ought to characterise the citizens of such a kingdom. The sacrifice by which the kingdom is bought is made not by constraint but willingly: not in forced obedience to an outward commandment, but in free obedience to the inward constraint of love. The sacrifice is made cheerfully, gaily, whenever the kingdom is seen to be the summum bonum—when we know in their priceless worth the things that are freely given to us of God. The genuine citizens of the kingdom all say of it "all my springs are in Thee," not lugubriously but with singing and dancing;[1] albeit one has come from Egypt, another from Babylon, and a third, a fourth, and a fifth from Philistia, Tyre, and Ethiopia; cheerfully forgetting their old country for the sake of the newfound fatherland. It will be observed how carefully the parable is constructed so as to exclude a legal cheerless view of the sacrifice as something arbitrarily exacted. The sacrifice is made to appear the natural outcome of the joy over the discovery just made of the treasure. "In his joy he goeth and selleth all that he hath and buyeth that field." This is an important touch in the picture, and it is all the more worthy of notice that it serves to correct a false impression that might easily be made by the description of the stony ground hearer in the parable of the Sower, as one who receives the word with joy, but when tribulation arises is offended. This may very readily be mistaken for a disparagement of joy as the mark of a superficial nature, and as seldom accompanied or followed by heroic fidelity. That no such insinuation was meant is manifest from this parable, which not only represents intense joy as characteristic of the treasure-finder, but further represents that joy as the direct source of self-sacrifice. From this instance we may learn to be on our guard against hasty inferences from isolated or accidental features in parabolic embodiments of spiritual truth. And the caution may be applied not only to the joy ascribed to the stony ground hearer, but to the secrecy or cunning ascribed to the treasure-finder. Some interpreters of the parables have taken this as a feature to be emphasised, drawing from it the doctrine that silence or secrecy at the commencement of the Christian life is necessary in order to make conversion thorough and stable, and pointing to Christ’s withdrawal into the wilderness after His baptism, or to Paul’s three years’ seclusion in Arabia by way of illustration.[2]. Now it is true that secrecy and silence are sometimes advantageous, and also that they often characterise men of earnest thoughtful temper at the commencement of their religious life. But In the first place it cannot be laid down as a universal rule, that wherever there is religious genuineness and thoroughness there will be such secrecy and silence; and in the second place, when these characteristics appear they have a different source from that implied in the parable. The treasure-finder hid the treasure in fear lest he should lose it. But the man who has begun to think seriously on religion hides his thoughts deep in his heart, not from fear of losing them, but from delicacy and shyness. Newborn religion, like youthful love, is a shy, retiring thing, which shamefacedly withdraws from observation. The shyness is in some respects beneficial, and in some respects it is the reverse. It is not a thing to be prescribed as part of a necessary method for insuring salvation.

[1] Psa 87:7. This verse of the Psalm is rendered by Delitzsch, "and singing and dancing" (they say) "all my springs are in thee," that is, in Zion, viewed as the metropolis of the Divine kingdom. The new-born citizens go about in the streets of the mother-city of the Divine kingdom expressing in dance and song their joy, the burthen of their song being, "all my springs in thee." What a graphic picture!

[2] So Arndt and De Valenti. Conf. Trench on the same point

We pass now from the common to the distinctive lessons of the two parables. And here it may be well to begin with a caveat against the assumption that these parables must necessarily be intended to teach distinct doctrines concerning the things of the kingdom. The assumption is one which we are naturally inclined to make from the mere fact of there being two parables and not one; especially when it is taken for granted that the two parables were originally spoken at the same time. Why speak two parables on the same theme at one time unless because, while both set forth the same general truth, each exhibits that truth under a different phase? The question is a very natural one, and yet for our part we do not deem it prudent to lay too much stress on the argument it contains, or even to be sure that the premises on which the inference rests are well-founded. We would bear in mind the possibility that these two parables which come together in Matthew’s narrative were spoken on different occasions, and that therefore the difference between them may be picturesque rather than doctrinal, due to the changing forms under which a creative mind, able to bring forth out of its treasure things new and old, contemplated the same truth at different times. While we say this, however, we are not only willing but anxious to recognise whatever distinctive lessons may seem fairly deducible from the twin parables; and, though averse from over-confident dogmatism, we think that on two points their peculiarities have didactic significance.

First, it seems legitimate to emphasise, as all expositors have done, the fact that in the one parable the material good which is the emblem of the summum bonum, is found by accident, while in the other it is obtained as the result of a methodic persistent search. The spiritual import of this distinction has been diversely apprehended. A recent writer expresses the opinion that both traits point to the difficulty of recognising in the kingdom offered to men the highest good, the difference being that in the one case the difficulty arises from the inherent nature of the kingdom as a hidden thing; in the other from the exacting demands which the quest of the chief good involves.[1] On this view there is no reference to a distinction between diverse classes of recipients. Most interpreters, however, have regarded the fact in question as intended to point at such a distinction, and to divide the recipients of the blessings of the kingdom into two classes: those to whom the kingdom comes without any previous thought on their part, and those to whom it is given as the reward of an earnest foregoing search. Nathaniel and the woman of Samaria have been referred to as examples of the one class, and Augustine in his intensely interesting and eventful religious history, as described by himself in his famous ’Confessions,’ as an outstanding example of the other.[2] Now that there is such a distinction between Christians as to the manner of their coming into the kingdom of God is certain—there are finders and there are seekers in the kingdom of heaven. Both are finders of God and the chief good,[3] or rather are found of them, for in all cases there is something in religious experience which does not depend on man’s will; but the one class find without much or any previous quest, while the other class first seek earnestly, and it may belong, and then eventually find. And the emblems of the chief good in the two parables answer very well to this distinction between the two classes of finders. A hidden treasure is not a thing that one can well set himself to seek for, though men have given themselves occasionally to such an apparently hopeless quest. But goodly pearls are things to be sought after and obtained as the result of a continued search; and one may reasonably hope at length to find the best after having previously found many good. Such finding of the best is not only probable but certain in the spiritual world, though it is not more than a probability in the natural. A literal pearl-seeker may never find the one best pearl in all the world. But in the kingdom of heaven they that seek shall find. Their quest may be long, painful, wearisome, and they may experience many disappointments; meeting now here, now there, what seems on first view a very precious pearl, but on closer inspection is found to have flaws which depreciate its value. But one day they shall find Him whom unconsciously they seek, and in Him get rest to their souls. So found the Pearl of Price Justin Martyr, so found Him Augustine, so find Him shall every faithful soul who hungers after righteousness and passionately longs for the knowledge of God and of truth.

[1] Goebel.

[2] So Trench, pp. 125-6.

[3] The actors in both parables are described as finding: ὁν εὑρὼν ἄνθρωπος, Mat 13:44, εὑρὡν δὲ. Mat 13:46. But to return to the distinction between finders and seekers. We recognise the reality of the distinction, but we doubt whether it is intended in the parables to teach the existence of such a distinction; at least in so far as it is understood to imply a moral difference between the two classes. For, let it be observed, the treasure-finder is not represented as indifferent to the discovery he has made. He rejoices over the happy discovery. He at once recognises its value as one who does not now for the first time learn the use of money. He would have been a seeker for such a treasure, not less earnest and persistent than the pearl merchant, had there been any reasonable hope of finding one. It seems therefore quite beside the mark, as some have done, to make this man represent the spiritually careless, who are suddenly arrested on their godless career—of those who go to church to laugh and remain to pray, of youths who leave their country homes for great cities there to make their fortune, and find what they had not sought, conversion and salvation.[1] In point of fact, the actors in the two parables seem to differ not so much in spirit as in circumstances; and the question forces itself upon the mind whether after all the design be not to make an objective distinction between men as to their respective positions, rather than a subjective distinction between them as to their respective dispositions. Does not the one parable show us the kingdom of God as a good beyond human hope and expectation, coming as a surprise to men who are not looking for it, but who gladly welcome it—all the more gladly because it was unexpected; and does not the other parable show us the kingdom, not as something unique, unexampled, and unlooked for, but as the best of its kind, the like of which in kind already exists and is known, so as to raise an expectation that something better of the same kind than has ever yet been seen may yet be found? In the two representations there is no apparent difference between the parties concerned except in position. They act differently because they are differently situated; either would act like the other if he were in his circumstances.

[1] So Arnot, p. 137. On this ground we incline to think that the parables point to a distinction between men as to position, not as to disposition, and show us how men of the same spirit will behave towards the kingdom of heaven in their respective situations. They will both make it welcome when found,—the one as a good he had not looked for, the other as a good after which he had long been in quest. And it is not difficult to illustrate the difference in situation implied in the parables. Who were the men in our Lord’s day (for it is thence we must in the first place seek our illustrations) to whom the kingdom of heaven was as a treasure hid in a field? They were such as Zacchæus the publican,—men who had not been seeking the kingdom simply because they had been accustomed to be treated by those who deemed themselves the children of the kingdom, as persons who had no concern or interest therein, until they had come themselves to believe this. What a surprise it was to the pariahs of Jewish society to find, that Jesus took an interest in them, and to hear Him speak to them of the kingdom as if it were specially their affair! Here indeed was a treasure these poor despised ones had not been looking for! not because they set no value on it, but because they had not ventured to hope, had not been able even to entertain the thought, that God loved them. And who were they to whom the kingdom of heaven was as the precious pearl found after lengthened quest? They were those who waited, as they who wait for the dawn, for the consolation of Israel; devout men who diligently read the ancient Scriptures in search of the pearls of wisdom, and who had learned from the words of the prophets to look for one Pearl more precious than all—Messiah, the incarnate Wisdom of God,—and who recognised Him in Jesus of Nazareth. Equally easy is it to illustrate the distinction in question from the apostolic age. The men to whom the kingdom of heaven was as a treasure hid in a field were the Gentiles who had been aliens from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world, up to the time the Gospel was preached to them, and who yet at once welcomed that Gospel as good tidings when it was proclaimed to them; their hearts having been prepared for its reception by the very misery inseparable from a life without hope. The appropriateness of a hidden treasure as an emblem of the kingdom of heaven in their case is evinced by the fact that the Apostle Paul, whether with conscious reference to our parable we cannot tell, represents the admission of the Gentiles to participation in the blessings of salvation as a mystery hid in God.[1] And of the pearl-seekers of that time we may find good samples in such as the Eunuch of Ethiopia and Lydia: Gentiles by birth, but proselytes to the Jewish religion, who in that religion and its sacred literature had already found many goodly pearls, but yet felt that there must be better still to be found, and who did at length find the best possible in Jesus the crucified.

[1] Eph 3:9.

These illustrations from the beginning of the Gospel suffice to show the reality of the distinction implied in the two comparisons of the kingdom of heaven to a hidden treasure whose existence was unsuspected, and to a pearl which was an object of persistent quest. But we are not shut up to draw our illustrations from the distant past. We may find parallels to the two classes, diversely situated, as described, in every age and in our own time. The Gospel comes as a hidden treasure to all converts from heathenism who had previously been yearning in dull despair for the good they comprehended not and never hoped to see; and to all among our own ’lapsed masses,’ as we somewhat heartlessly call them, who, having spent years in ignorance and wretchedness, have at length, in some happy hour, come to learn that in Jesus they have a friend, in God a father, and in heaven a home. And the Gospel is the pearl of great price to those who, having received a Christian nurture, which has fostered in them all noble affections, on reaching young manhood devote themselves to the pursuit of truth, wisdom, and righteousness, not immediately convinced that all these are to be found by retaining the faith in which they have been reared, perhaps for a time rejecting that faith, and going to other masters than Christ in quest of the true, the good, and the fair; but at length, after much wandering and earnest search, always well intended, however fruitless in result, find rest to their souls in accepting Christ as Master, Lord, and Saviour, in whom are stored all the treasures of wisdom, knowledge, and grace.[1]

[1] The above view is in principle identical with that advocated by Greswell. He says: "To the first of these descriptions, that is, to the idea of the kingdom of heaven as represented by the treasure, I think it may be shown will correspond the privilege of becoming a Christian; and to the second, in which the kingdom of heaven is adumbrated by the pearl, the profession of Christianity, or the continuing a Christian on principle." He adds: "By the privilege of becoming a Christian, I understand the acceptance of the first offer of Christianity, the option of the Gospel terms of salvation; an offer and an option which would consequently be inseparable from the being and promulgation of Christianity, but could have no existence until it began to be preached."—Vol. ii. p. 234. In all the instances alluded to we have felt justified in assuming that the difference is one of situation rather than disposition. All alike welcome and love the good when it is presented to their view. We must not leave this topic, however, without remarking that welcoming the highest good in either class of cases is by no means a matter of course. In both parables the actors are represented as rejoicing in the discovery of the chief good, but it is not intended thereby to teach that there was no temptation to act otherwise. In both situations indicated by the two parables, there is temptation so to act as to lose the good that is attainable. In the case of the treasure-finder there is the danger of being prevented by abject fear from appropriating the good within reach; in the case of the pearl-seeker, of being too easily satisfied with what has already been obtained, and giving up the quest. How ready is one in the position of the class called ’publicans and sinners’ to regard the Gospel of the kingdom as too good news to be true, to treat the invitation to the feast as a jest, and not seriously meant; not because he would not gladly go, but because he cannot believe he is wanted. And how ready is one who is already in possession of goodly pearls of wisdom and virtue—admired and envied by others—to congratulate himself on his treasures, and to stop short prematurely in his quest; a philosopher, a man of science, a man of culture, but not a Christian. How many among the diverse classes of our society—the cultured and the uncultured—may be committing these sad mistakes even now! Happy is the man who avoids both, and is able to say amen to the sentiment of the Apostle Paul: "This is a credible saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,"—credible not too good news to be true, though certainly very surprising; worthy of all acceptation more to be valued than all other knowledge or wisdom. The other distinction between the two parables as to didactic import, we shall do little more than hint at, because we are by no means sure that it is not a fancy. It is this, that in the former of the two parables the summum bonum seems to be exhibited under the aspect of the useful, and in the latter under the aspect of the ornamental. A treasure is valuable as supplying the means of purchasing commodities; a pearl is valuable as an ornament. That the kingdom of heaven should be presented under such various aspects is not incredible, for as the summum bonum it must satisfy all man’s legitimate wants; and man is not only a being who craves happiness, but also a being who has a sense of the beautiful. The beau ideal must embrace at once the true, the good, and the fair. And the kingdom of heaven does meet these various wants of human nature. It not only aims at putting man in a happy, saved condition, but at beautifying and ennobling him as the possessor of wisdom and righteousness. But it may be said there is no foundation for such a distinction in the parables, because the pearl-collector is a merchant, and is interested in his acquisitions not as ornaments, but out of regard to the price he will get for them. That, however, is a point open to question. The word ἔμπορος does not necessarily, though it may usually, denote a merchant; and even though it were conceded that a merchant is intended, merchants have been known who were more than merchants, and were so enamoured of some article they had purchased as to be unwilling to sell it again. In favour of the view that the collector in the parable is a pearl-fancier rather than a mere trader is the statement that he is seeking goodly pearls. Of course a trader, as well as an amateur collector, would seek only goodly pearls; for to what end buy small, unshapely, discoloured specimens, which could not be expected to attract purchasers? But why expressly mention what might be taken for granted, unless to indicate that the man had a peculiar exceptional love for rare and excellent specimens,—a love due to personal tastes, not to trading propensities? But it may be objected, How absurd to suppose that a man would give all he had for a single pearl he did not mean to sell again, and make a profit by! "If, after giving all that he had for the pearl, he had hung it on his neck, where could the poor man have found food and clothing?"[1]. A very plausible, if somewhat vulgar question; yet it is but the question which the world asks in reference to the demand made to leave all for the kingdom: "What shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or wherewithal shall we be clothed?" Ask no such questions, replies Christ. Seek first, and at all hazards, the kingdom of God, and these things shall be provided for you. And this is the law by which the true citizen of the kingdom is guided. It is not a rule to be mechanically acted on, but it is nevertheless the law of the spirit of a Christian life. In acting on such a law a Christian exposes himself to a charge of folly. What a fool was the man who parted with all to obtain a single pearl, which he meant to keep in his possession! It was the act of one who had a craze, who had gone mad in the pursuit of a hobby! True, yet such folly is characteristic of the seekers after God. It is the folly of the wise [1] Arnot, p. 156