Imagine this. You’re asleep. Suddenly, God is standing right there. Not in a booming voice from a cloud, not through a stained-glass window, but close enough that you can almost feel the presence. And He says the words that kind of blow your mind: “Ask something of me and I will give it to you.” What rushes into your mind first? Be honest. No holy filters yet.
Thank you for taking the time to read this homily for the 17th SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME -JULY 26, 2026 – Your support means a great deal to me, and I’m deeply grateful for the many who share these messages with their friends, families and social media followers. If you’ve found meaning in these words, I’d be grateful if you’d share them with others who might benefit.
And for those who prefer listening, you can find the audio version on SoundCloud HERE or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes HERE. Your comments, messages, and the way you’ve embraced these homilies continue to inspire me. Sincerely in Christ -Father Jim
For most of us it’s a flood: “Please heal Mom.” “Fix this marriage that’s falling apart.” “Get my kid (whether they’re 2 or 52 years old…) through this rough patch” “Let the biopsy come back clear.” “Help me pay the bills this month.” “Just… give me one night of sleep without the anxiety.”
And somewhere in the mix, almost as an afterthought, we add, “Oh, and… you know… make me a better person.”
That’s exactly where Solomon stands in today’s first reading. There’s part of us that can be so dismissive of this whole scene when we reflect on his answer of “Give me an understanding heart…” thinking, great – a teacher’s pet answer… But that’s not what’s going on at all. Solomon at this point is a young man, and is now the new King of Israel succeeding King David. How does he feel about that? He’s terrified. He admits it out loud: “I am a mere youth, not knowing at all how to act.” The weight of an entire people is on his shoulders.
He could have asked for the classic royal wish-list—long life, riches, the death of his enemies. Instead he asks for one thing: “Give your servant an understanding heart… to distinguish right from wrong.” In Hebrew, that phrase can also be translated “a listening heart.” Not a smart heart. Not a powerful heart. A listening heart. A heart that stays tuned to the one voice that matters when every other voice is screaming.
That’s why God is so pleased. Solomon didn’t ask for the outcomes. He asked for the capacity to walk through whatever outcomes came, without losing the plot.
Fast forward to the Gospel. Jesus tells two short, almost reckless stories. A man finds a treasure buried in a field and sells everything he owns to buy that field. A merchant spots a single pearl of extraordinary beauty and liquidates his entire inventory to possess it. Both of them look a little crazy to the outside world. But once you’ve seen the real treasure – once you’ve recognized that the treasure, the pearl of great price, is God Himself — everything else gets re-ranked.
Solomon’s listening heart is simply the way we keep that treasure. It’s how we refuse to let the noise of life bury it again. Think about how this plays out in ordinary days. You’re sitting at your desk or in your car, phone in hand, scrolling. A notification pops up: a promotion at work, a friend’s highlight reel on social media, a news alert that spikes your anxiety.
Suddenly the day feels urgent. You start calculating – What if I miss this opportunity? What if I’m falling behind? What if that one relationship never recovers? The phone becomes a little field of competing treasures, each one promising to make life better if you just dig a little deeper, reply a little faster, worry a little longer.
But the moment you remember the pearl – God Himself, closer than your next breath – those other “treasures” lose their power to reorder your heart. You can still care about the promotion, still pray for the friend, still feel the anxiety. You’re just no longer owned by them.
St. Paul nails that point in the second reading: “We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” Not “all things are good.”
Not “all things feel good.”
But all things — even the ones that break our hearts — can be woven into the larger story when our hearts stay listening to the One who is the treasure.
So here’s the invitation this week — not to pretend we don’t care about the people and problems that keep us up at night. Care deeply. Pray specifically. But underneath every other request, keep asking for the one thing that protects the real treasure: “Lord, give me a listening heart.
Help me hear You when the noise is loud.
Help me trust You when the answers are slow.
Help me remember that nothing I have, nothing I fear, and no one I love means more than You.” Because once that pearl is yours, you can face whatever the next day brings – not because you’re strong enough, but because you’re held by the One who is.
