Scripture readings for July 26, 2026, Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
1 Kgs 3:5, 7-12 Ps 119:57, 72, 76-77, 127-128, 129-130 Rom 8:28-30 Mt 13:44-52
I recall something St. Faustina wrote once in her diary, a secret she knew. It’s something I think I know; at least it’s something I sense and struggle to seek. It’s probably something you seek too, struggling just like I do. If you’re a Christian, I’m sure you do.
“Hidden Jesus, in You lies all my strength,” she wrote. Simple words but powerful because they’re just true. No gimmicks, no unnecessary eloquence, these words reveal the enduring and anchoring truth that Jesus is our strength. He is the solace and fortification that our souls always seek.
I’m talking about what prayer can do. Wearied by the world, tired of it all, tired even of myself because of my sins, nonetheless, when I take a deep breath and find the silence of prayer, I find him, my hidden Lord. He comes to me; I find rest in him. Sinful, worn out, frightened, it doesn’t matter: Jesus, gentle and lowly, gives himself to me (Mt 11:29). And he comes as mercy, as peace which passes understanding (Phil 4:7).
Such is the sabbath rest that is Christ himself, what we find in Christ, for “he himself is our peace” (Eph 2:14). Such is the rest without which St. Augustine said we will always be restless. Again, I think you probably grasp what I’m talking about, because you’re looking for him the same as me.
Another word for it is kingdom. The sabbath rest that is Christ, the peace which passes understanding: it’s also the kingdom of God. It’s what Jesus said is “at hand” (Mt 4:17). When he announced the arrival of the kingdom, Jesus announced his own arrival. He was talking about his dwelling among us in the flesh and his voice which only believers would hear (Jn 1:14; Jn 10:3-5).
Now what this means is that the whole purpose of the Christian life, the fundamental purpose of all human life, is that we were created to find this rest, this kingdom, Christ himself. The old Latin way of putting it: we humans are capax Dei, capable of God. That is, what we discover in ourselves to be restlessness is nothing other than our yearning for God in Christ. It’s a yearning we’ve always had; even after the fall, we still yearn.
And this is what we’re looking for when we’re looking for rest, for peace, even for a simple breath, for the solace of prayer. This is what everyone is looking for, even atheists. Ultimately, we’re all looking for Christ and his kingdom. We’re looking for exactly what we lost in Eden and what God has always wanted to return to us — the joyous perfection of God’s original gift, union with him.
Now what I’m describing here is simply our spiritual need, the deep spiritual need which Jesus is attempting to satisfy as he speaks to his disciples (and to us by extension) in parables. The parables, beginning with the great Parable of the Sower, are all about how we respond to the advent of Christ. Will we hear him? Will we seek and cherish Christ and his kingdom? Even though at times it will seem small and insignificant compared to everything else, will we still seek the kingdom of God? Will we want God or the world instead?
“The kingdom of heaven is like,” Jesus says. It’s like buried treasure, like a hidden pearl. One must find it and then appreciate its real value. One must know that the kingdom of God is worth so much that one should sell everything to purchase it.
That is, one should be open to radically changing one’s life for the sake of the kingdom. When one really discovers the kingdom of God, one shouldn’t be casual about it; to be casual about the kingdom is to risk becoming one of the “bad fish” thrown away by the angels at the end of time (Mt 13:44-49). Are you casual about the kingdom of God? Have you ever changed your life for sake of it?
It’s astounding how deeply these parables touch us. It’s astounding how they answer our deepest longings. What we’ve been looking for all along is precisely what Christ offers us. He calls it the “kingdom of heaven.” The question is simply whether we’ll see the kingdom for what it is. The question is whether we’ll take what is being offered. But this is exactly the challenge.
How many times have I given up prayer for the screen? How many times have I given up charity for judgment? How many times have I given up the kingdom of heaven for the kingdom of the world? You see what I’m saying? Every time we stand before an altar or even a simple image of Christ, or even in our minds when we merely remember Christ and his invitation, Jesus is offering us his kingdom. But the question is do we want it? Only those who have changed their lives can say so.
Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.
