Wednesday of the 17th Week in Ordinary Time

Dear brothers,

Some light is hard to look at. In today’s first reading, Moses comes down the mountain with his face shining. It’s not sweat or sunburn—it’s the light of someone who’s been close to God. He went up to plead for mercy after the people turned away. And when he comes back down, he doesn’t carry anger or punishment—he carries light.

This light isn’t Moses’ own doing. It’s the sign of someone changed by prayer. He had spent forty days listening, asking, interceding. He didn’t run away from the people’s failure; he carried it into the heart of God. And now, God’s mercy leaves its mark on him. But when the people see it, they’re afraid. So Moses veils his face—not to hide, but to protect them. Even the light of God’s kindness can feel too much when we’re hurting or ashamed.

And yet, in this very moment, God is not giving up on his people. He is revealing himself gently—through the face of someone they trust, through a light that doesn’t burn, but guides.

The Psalm today says, “Bow down before his holy mountain.” But God’s holiness isn’t far off. It’s not the holiness of distance—it’s the holiness of a God who listens. Moses, Aaron, and Samuel didn’t just lead ceremonies—they prayed, and God answered. They remind us that holiness isn’t about being set apart from people—it’s about being close to both God and neighbour.

The Gospel gives us two short stories. A man finds treasure in a field. A merchant finds a pearl of great price. Both sell everything to have what they’ve found. These aren’t just stories about value. They’re about vision. About recognising something of such deep worth that it changes everything else. The Kingdom of God is often hidden—but when we see it clearly, when we really understand it, nothing else compares.

That brings us to Saint Peter Chrysologus, the Doctor of the Church whose feast we keep today. His title means “golden word”—and rightly so. But it wasn’t about style or cleverness. His words were golden because they helped people see. He spoke simply, clearly, and directly—about Christ who became flesh, about mercy for the sinner, about love that bends down. He was named a Doctor of the Church not for writing volumes of theology, but for helping people understand the truth that God has already revealed: that Jesus is close, and that his Kingdom is here, if we only have eyes to see.

In that sense, Peter Chrysologus was like the man in the parable—he had found the treasure, and he gave his life to make it visible to others. He unveiled the Gospel. Not in abstract words, but in everyday images. His preaching helped the poor see their dignity, helped sinners see their hope, helped the faithful see that holiness was not far from them, but near.

And this, too, is our task. To notice the treasure in our midst. To uncover the light God has placed in our own lives. And to speak—to live—in a way that helps others see it too.

So today, let’s ask ourselves:

• What gift or grace have I received that I keep veiled—out of fear, or doubt, or weariness?
• What treasure has God shown me—perhaps in prayer, or in the face of someone suffering—that’s worth surrendering other things to hold onto?
• And who in my life needs help seeing the Kingdom—hidden, yes, but already here?

Amen.