By making this contrast Jesus means to say that the reign of God is open to everyone, poor and rich, and one may encounter it in altogether different ways: suddenly, unexpectedly, unintentionally, or as something always longed for and sought that at a certain point one actually finds.
But something else about the form of this double parable should be considered: each of its two parts is unusually short. We quite naturally ask ourselves: Did Jesus really tell such compact stories? What is more exciting than stories about finding treasure? Why did he not draw out two such naturally absorbing stories at length, telling them in such a way that the tension steadily increased—for example, the way he did in the story of the lost son (Luke 15:11-32)? That parable is incomparably longer and more vivid than Matthew 13:44-46. Why the brevity here?
The answer could be that obviously Jesus did tell his parables at greater length, and it was the teachers and theologians of the early communities who had to compress them into a brief form and a manageable structure so that they could be handed on more easily. It could have happened that way. But it could have been completely different; it could well be that Jesus himself concluded a longer discourse on the reign of God with a brief parable the audience could remember. It would have had the function of setting an ending to the discourse and sending the hearers away with something to think about. We have to reckon with the fact that Jesus could do many different things, that he was a master of both short and long forms simply because he was a highly talented teacher. So much for the form of Matthew 13:44-46. Now for a closer examination of its content!
The parable of the treasure in the field presupposes something familiar in its day that scarcely exists among us now, namely, hiding treasure. At that time it was the order of the day. There were no savings banks, no safe-deposit boxes, and normally no houses that could not easily be broken into. It was literally possible to break into the average house in Palestine by simply digging through the mud-brick wall. The technical term for “breaking in” translates to “digging one’s way through.”3
Besides that, there were constant wars, pillagings, attacks by robbers, and fires. Hence, money and valuable objects were buried, and it could easily happen that when war swept through a locality the buried treasures were not dug up again and lay forgotten. It happened now and then that someone discovered a buried treasure in a field. There were even people who specialized in searching for forgotten treasure; in Jewish culture they were called “earth churners,” “wall knockers,” or “beam breakers.”4 That is the background of the first parable. We can imagine the action of the story something like this:
A day laborer is working in a field. He is a wage worker; the field does not belong to him. That he is poor is evident from the fact that he has to sell “everything” he has to be able to buy the field: his broken-down house, its furniture and utensils, a few tools, his donkey. His plowshare struck the treasure—probably a large clay jar full of silver coins—while he was plowing the field. After he has counted it and assured himself of its enormous value he hastily throws dirt back on the object he has discovered, perhaps looking furtively around to see if anyone is watching him. Then, with unspeakable joy, he turns everything he has into cash and buys the field. That way he can be sure that no one can subsequently challenge his possession of the treasure. He is not bothered by having to sell everything he has because his loss is nothing in comparison to what he has to gain.
In the second parable the milieu shifts. The actor is no longer a poor person but a wealthy merchant. This man is not described as a kapelos, a small shopkeeper, but as emporos, that is, a wholesale merchant, a man who imports and exports. The story takes place not in the country but in the city, perhaps in the course of a trading journey and probably even overseas somewhere. The merchant is apparently a specialist in pearls; he deals in them and is constantly searching for more. Pearls were highly sought after in antiquity; they were then what big diamonds are to us. Immense sums were paid for the most perfect examples.
One day the merchant comes across a pearl of unusual size and beauty. The pearl fisher or intermediate dealer is asking quite a bit for it, but the specialist knows that in the right place and at the right time he will obtain a price for this pearl that would make your head swim. So he sells all his property, everything he can turn into liquid capital, and buys the pearl. It is the deal of his lifetime.
What do these two parables mean to say? The introduction in each case is crucial; it does not say “the reign of God is like a hidden treasure” (as most translations have it) and certainly not “it is a hidden treasure,” but “it is with the reign of God as in the following event.” It is the whole event that is compared to the reign of God—from the lucky find through the selling of the property to the giant transactions the day laborer and the merchant make in the end. Hence many interpretations and translations are too narrow and one-sided when they try to find the crucial point or the central meaning of the two parables in one particular part or object.
For example, it is repeatedly said that the point of both parables is the enormous value of what is found. The reign of God is as precious as the important treasure and the shimmering pearl. Another position says no, the infinite value of the reign of God is not what is decisive here. Rather, the point is that because of the inconceivable value of the reign of God one must sacrifice everything. What is crucial is the giving, the renunciation of property, the unlimited willingness to sacrifice.5
No, indeed, other interpreters say. That is not the crucial point either. The day laborer has encountered a unique opportunity that will never come again in his impoverished life. Likewise the merchant: never again in his life will he see such a pearl. So those hearing the parable should recognize the unique situation in which they are placed. Now, at this hour, God is offering salvation, and now, at this hour, it must be seized.
A fourth position says that this does not really grasp the parable of the treasure in the field either. The day laborer acquires his discovery by cunning, not to say fraud. He leaves the owner of the field in the dark about what he has found. He is thus one of those “immoral heroes” in Jesus’ parables, and what Jesus truly wants to bring to light here is that everything depends on a decisive seizing of the moment, an engagement that goes for broke, that quickly, recklessly, and with complete goal-directedness risks everything on one throw of the dice. The reign of God needs crooks like that.6 There is even a fifth position that interprets the double parable to say that the real point is the overflowing joy with which the two finders sell everything. There, and nowhere else, lies the accent, and both parables must be interpreted in terms of just that.7
Thus two relatively brief and simple parables can create so much controversy! We have to object to the five types of interpretation so briefly sketched here that they do not take the narrative structure of parables seriously. Despite all their brevity and conciseness, they tell stories. And it is essential to a story that one be carried along by it and then possibly see the world and oneself in a different light—or that one for the first time catches a glimpse of what the reign of God could be about. But that means we cannot focus with Aristotelian logic on a single point in the narrative. The story does have its own internal direction, and it is by no means arbitrary. But to grasp it one has to surrender oneself to the whole story, follow it step by step, and continually discover new aspects of it.