Treasure in the Heart

We keep “hidden” what is most precious: Our life in Christ

By Anthony Esolen*

Parable of the Hidden Treasure, Rembrandt, c.1630 (Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest)

In the 14th petition of the Litany of the Sacred Heart, “Heart of Jesus,” we say, “in whom are all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, have mercy on us.”

That petition echoes the words of St. Paul, who wishes to comfort the hearts of the believers at Colossae, that they may be “well equipped in charity and in all the riches of complete understanding, so as to know the mystery of God the Father of Christ Jesus, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and  knowledge” (Col. 2:2-3).

Now, when it comes to things of surpassing worth, there are in the New  Testament two forms of “hiddenness,” corresponding to two metaphors, each with its characteristic verb. The more common form, I believe, is that of a veil or a cover: to reveal, literally, is to remove the veil so that people may see what is behind it or beneath, or even above, if we think of the veil that stands between us and the  glories of heaven. That is the sense of the Greek verb apokalyptein, from which  we get the verbal noun apokalypsis, apocalypse, referring particularly to the ultimate unveiling, the revelation to St. John of the last things.

Sometimes what  is being hidden is bad, as when St. Peter says that charity “covers a multitude of sins” (kalyptei; 1 Pt. 4:8), as if to throw a veil over them that they may be as if they never had been at all; or as when desperate people in the final days, as Jesus says, will cry out to the hills, “Cover us” (kalypsate; Lk. 23:30).

More often, what is hidden, what stands behind the veil, is holy, and therefore veiled from the sight of man, as when Jesus praises the Father for having revealed the truth not to those of sharp minds, as they believe, but to the little ones (apekalypsas; Lk. 10:21).

But there is another form, and that is suggested by what people do with  treasure: they keep it in a safe and secret place, like a treasure box. It is precisely because it is so valuable that they do not parade it in gaudy or shameless display.  That is what the man in Jesus’ parable does, when he finds a treasure in a field. He “hides it, and in his joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field” (Mt. 13:44). The word for “hides” there is a form of the verb kryptein, which suggests keeping something secret, as when in prayer you go to your room alone rather than show off in front of other people (Mt. 6:6). If we say, then, that God sees the secrets of the heart, we can imagine that each one of us, in that inward treasure chest, hides away what he holds to be most precious.

Yes, we are to make our faith manifest in the world, letting our light shine before men, as a city set on a hill cannot be hid (krybenai; Mt. 5:14, 16). But in general, the faith we treasure, changing our lives from within, will be hidden from the world, not because we refuse to talk about it, like the initiates of the ancient mystery religions, those secret clubs, but because of the nature of that life and the nature of this world.

For St. Paul corrects the Colossians, who seem to be treating the faith as just such a mystery religion, as they tell themselves that they must not touch this or taste that or handle the other (Col. 2:21), injunctions and superstitions which, paradoxically, bind them to the world of things that perish.

But we have been buried with Christ by baptism into his death, and we have risen with him in his resurrection, so we should “mind the things that are above, not the things that are on earth,” for, says Paul to those eager but misguided men of Colossae, “you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3).

It is as if the believers themselves, or rather their lives, are now the treasure, dwelling with the ultimate treasure that is Christ, in the secret treasure chest that is God Himself.

Women at the Empty Tomb, Fra Angelico

Of course, the image of the tomb may well come here to mind.

To die, to be  buried, is to be placed in a tomb, in Greek a place of memorial; but that place of  memorial in the garden of Joseph of Arimathea is empty, nor do Christians merely pay honor to the dead when they hold Christ in their hearts. The tomb into which the baptized Christian enters is not a memorial but a treasure box, a place of secret and powerful beauty.

Nor will it remain hidden . Again, the kingdom of heaven is like that treasure, and thus may we look at the revelation to Saint John of the city of God:  “And the foundations of the wall of the city were adorned with every precious  stone. The first foundation, jasper; the second, sapphire; the third, agate; the fourth, emerald; the fifth, sardonyx; the sixth, sardius; the seventh, chrysolite; the eighth, beryl; the ninth, topaz; the tenth, chrysopase; the eleventh, ja-cinth; and the twelfth, amethyst” (Rev. 21: 19-20).

The city is a treasure enclosed within treasure, yet its dimensions, twelve thousand stadia in length and breadth and height (about 1,300 miles in every direction), are meant to suggest not enclosure but infinity.

And yet Jesus compares this same kingdom of heaven to a mustard seed, “smallest of all the seeds” (Mt. 13:32). How do we describe the dimensions of love? How large or how small is a single impulse of the heart of Christ?

The treasures of wisdom and knowledge are not kept secret in Christ, as if  Christ were their holder or container, nor can they be contained by any created  being.

They are in Christ as the fullness of his very life.

To be hidden with Christ in God is not to keep secrets from the unworthy world, but to be folded up in that life, impossible to impart to the world as it is.

Yet when we worship, not to flaunt our piety in public, we say to the world, “There is a treasure you have no knowledge of. It dwells in the holiest of sanctuaries. Come and see.”

 * Dr. Anthony Esolen, currently a faculty member at Thales College in North Carolina, is the author or translator of more than 30 books and over 1000 articles on culture, literary and biblical criticism, education, the Christian life and original poetry. He publishes a web magazine on language, music, poetry, and classic films called Word and Song together with his wife, Debra.