Sacred Things, Sacred Hearts

There is one verse in today’s first reading that almost takes us by surprise. The prophet Jeremiah says: “They will in those days no longer say, ‘The ark of the covenant of the LORD!’ They will no longer think of it, or remember it, or miss it, or make another.” (Jer 3:16) If you were an Israelite hearing those words for the first time, they would have been shocking.

The Ark of the Covenant was the holiest object in Israel. It held the tablets of the Law given to Moses. It was the sign of God’s covenant and the symbol of his presence among his people. It accompanied Israel through the wilderness, stood in the Holy of Holies in the Temple, and reminded the people that God dwelt in their midst. So why would Jeremiah say that one day people would no longer even speak about it? Certainly not because the Ark was unimportant. It was profoundly important.

But it was never the destination. It was always a sign pointing to something greater. 

Jeremiah goes on to say: “At that time they shall call Jerusalem the LORD’s throne.” Notice the movement. God’s presence is no longer focused on a single sacred object. It begins to embrace an entire people. That promise prepares us for the Gospel where Jesus tells the parable of the sower and explains that the seed is the word of God. The question is no longer, “Where is the Ark?” but, “Where will the Word take root?”

Some hearts are like the path. The Word never enters. Some are rocky. The Word begins to grow but has no roots. Some are crowded with thorns. The cares of life choke it. But some hearts are good soil. There the Word takes root where it grows and bears fruit thirtyfold, sixtyfold, and a hundredfold.

The Ark represented God’s presence. Jesus wants God’s presence to dwell in the human heart. The New Covenant is not centered on an object but on lives transformed by the living Word. That is why Jeremiah can say there will be no need to make another Ark. The sign points to a greater reality which when it arrives, the sign has fulfilled its purpose.

Most of us have things that help us draw close to God: a favorite Bible with worn pages, a rosary that has accompanied us through years of prayer, a crucifix hanging in our home, a church where we have celebrated baptisms, weddings, funerals, and countless Masses. These are precious gifts. They shape our memory and nourish our faith. The Church treasures sacred objects because they point us toward the sacred mysteries they represent.

But Jeremiah gently reminds us that even the holiest objects are never the goal. Their purpose is to lead us into a living relationship with God. Jesus tells us where that relationship finally takes root: not in wood overlaid with gold, not in stone buildings, not even in beautiful religious objects but in the human heart.

The true question is not whether we possess holy things. The true question is whether God’s Word has found good soil within us. Has it made us more patient? More forgiving? More generous? More faithful? More like Christ? Because in the end, the most sacred place on earth is not simply a beautiful church or a treasured religious object. The most sacred place on earth is a heart where Christ is welcomed, cherished, and allowed to bear fruit.

Today, as we receive the Lord in the Eucharist, let us ask for the grace to become that good soil, to allow his Word to sink deeply into our lives, so that God’s presence may not only dwell among us, but truly dwell within us.


Image credit: Christ’s Appearance to Mary Magdalene after the Resurrection | Alexander Ivanon | Russian Museum | PD-US

The Net Cast Widely

This coming Sunday is the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time. “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net thrown into the sea, which collects fish of every kind.” The net pictured here is a large dragnet, usually about six feet deep and up to several hundred feet wide, positioned in the lake by boats and requiring several men to operate (hence the plurals of v. 48). The picture is realistic, portraying an ordinary event with no surprising twists: The net brings in “every kind” of both good and bad fish, which are then sorted, the good being kept and the bad thrown out.

Whatever the original meaning of the parable, Matthew’s own ecclesiastical application already appears in the telling of the parable itself. The bad fish are called “bad” (rotten, sapra). Clearly the fish are fresh-caught so “rotten” seems inappropriate. The same word was used four times previously in Matthew’s description of bad “fruit” (works) presented by Christians. There it is easier to assess.

It is likely that “bad” refers to fish that lack the fins and scales noted in Leviticus 11:9-12. If the fish caught were eels or the Galilee catfish (eel-like in appearance), they would be forbidden fish. Of course, the fish could be too small or simply considered poor in taste. Hence the need for the sorting.

This parable then, like that of the “Wheat and Weeds.,” is one of judgment. It echoes not only the separation and destruction of the wicked, but also the motif of a mixture of good and bad until the time of final separation. The dragnet is inevitably indiscriminate in what it catches. As long as the fish remain in the lake, and indeed in the net, they remain undifferentiated. It is only when they come up for final scrutiny that some will be preserved and others destroyed

The Parable of the Net Explained

This interpretation is very like that of the parable of the weeds, vv. 36-43. Like the preceding interpretation, it concentrates entirely on the fate of the wicked, whose destiny is to be cast into the furnace of fire, with weeping and gnashing of teeth—all typical Matthean language for eschatological judgment, but not appropriate to fish, which are buried or thrown back into the water, not burned. The interpretation, allegorical as it is, does not represent the net to be the church, the fishers to be evangelists, etc. Matthew seems intentionally to forego the obvious opportunity to relate the parable to the story of the call of the fishers in 4:18-22. The parable is not a picture of evangelism, “fishing for people,” but a parable of final sorting and separation. [Boring, 1994, 314]


Image credit: The Pearl of Great Price, by Domenico Fetti, 17th century | Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, Bilddatenbank | Public Domain