“The Pearl of Great Price” from Orthodox Heretic
by Peter Rollins

A crowd had gathered by the shores of Galilee to catch a glimpse of Jesus and to hear him speak. People from all walks of life had turned up, from the powerful to the powerless, the rich ot the poor, the healthy to the sick. Jesus looked upon them with compassion and began to speak of God’s kingdom. Then from among the assembled people a man dressed in fine clothes shouted out, “Tell us Lord, to what would you compare the Kingdom of God?”

Jesus paused for a moment before looking out towards the sea.

“Let me tell a story,” he replied. “There was once a rich merchant who spent his days searching for fine pearls. Then one day he found a pearl of such beauty that he immediately went away and sold everything that he possessed so that he would have enough to purchase it. This pearl is like the kingdom.”

The crowd looked satisfied with this definition of the kingdom, especially the rich young man who had asked the question, for it addressed itself to the desire that lay deep in his heart.

This kingdom must really be valuable, he thought to himself, if a wealthy merchant would sell everything that he had in order to possess it.

While all this was going on, however, there was a young woman who stood at a distance from the crowd listening intently to what Jesus had said, all the time with a smile on her fae.

Jesus turned from the crowd and walked toward this unknown spectator. Then he spoke to the woman, saying, “Others listen to what I say, yet fail to hear, for the noise of their heart’s desire drowns out my meaning. They forever listen but never understand.”

“You, however, have listened and understood.”

“All I know,” said the young woman, “is that if this kingdom you speak of is like that priceless pearl, then the sacrifice needed in order to grasp it will not make one rich but rather will reduce the one who has sacrificed to absolute poverty. For you are saying that one must give up everything for the pearl, yet the pearl is itself worth nothing unless you find someone to buy it. And if you do find someone then you will no longer have the pearl. So although you may appear to be the richest person alive while you have the pearl, in reality, you will have nothing to live on until you give it up.”

“Yes,” replied Jesus, “the pearl has no value if all you seek is its value. But if you renounce the value of the pearl and give up everything simply because you are captivated by its beauty, then, and only then, will you discover it’s true value.”

The Prospector

In the late 1800s, there was a wayward prospector who lived alone on the Great Plains with only his horse, Esperanza. He carried a pack on his back and a tent under his saddle. Every night, he made camp in a new place.

He didn't always live on the plains. As a young man, he lived in a crowded city where every neighbor seemed richer than he was. He longed for all black ink in his bank book. So he borrowed to learn a trade, borrowed to furnish a home, and borrowed to appear successful. Whenever another man prospered, he felt poorer. Whenever his wife wished for some small delight, he counted his coins instead of his blessings. Before long, he knew every figure in his ledger better than the face of the woman who loved him.

One morning, he woke early and looked at his ledger book, heavy with red. His wife was asleep beside him, and he snapped. I've got to get free.

He packed a bag, pawned a watch and his wife's fur coat, and took only a photo album of friends and a locket with her picture. He bought a train ticket west. He couldn't afford the fare all the way to California, so he bought a horse on the plains instead, meaning to ride the rest of the way.

The journey west was perilous. Wolves and raiders were talked about in those parts.

And he was no navigator. He bounced around the plains for years, often riding hours in the wrong direction, until he gave up the dream of California and started digging for gold in the Badlands of South Dakota.

Then one sweltering afternoon, Esperanza spoke.

"Prospector, there's no gold in this ground. We're headed in no direction. You spend more time looking over your shoulder than at the sky."

"I'm nearly broke. I'll dig wherever I stand."

"You may be broke. But are you not free?" asked Esperanza. "Look around.
          No one asks anything of you here."

"But the debts—"

   "Where are your collectors?"

         "They're out there. I left everything to come here, but you can bet they'll find me."

"Then what would make you free?"

"Having enough," grumbled the prospector.

"What is enough? You've had friends, the love of a woman, free and clear skies to inspire you, and a horse to help carry your burdens." Esperanza stood tall. "I've noticed something else, carrying you these eight years. You get heavier with every passing day."

"I'm eating less than I ever have!" the prospector protested.

"I know. And it puzzles me. (pause) When I first knew you, we'd lie out and stare at the stars. You'd talk about the beauty of things. You said you'd never seen skies like these behind the city buildings. You told me about your old friends. You'd flip through that photo album by the fire. You'd think of her and smile.

"Then, we lost the album in a river crossing. And you got heavier. You pawned the locket for a pickaxe. Heavier still. Somewhere along the way, you stopped looking at the stars.

"I'm just a horse. But I've learned a man can escape his obligations and still be burdened. Your pack is nearly empty now, Prospector. And yet I strain harder each morning to rise beneath you."

The prospector said nothing. He dropped his pickaxe, turned east, and started back toward his wife and his friends, thanking the heavens for every step under the Big Sky.

And Esperanza noticed: with every mile eastward, the load on her back grew lighter.