The Kingdom of Heaven is like treasure hidden in a field

This is my story of how I came to love the Traditional Latin Mass. I wrote this to present at a student's speech night at my university. The idea was to encourage others to go on the 2009 Christus Rex pilgrimage from Ballarat to Bendigo. It convinced no-one.

The Christus Rex pilgrimage is a three day walking pilgrimage from Ballarat Cathedral to Bendigo Cathedral. It is organised by traditional Catholics and is based on the pilgrimage in France from Paris to Chartres.

Since failing to attract anyone to attend the 2009 pilgrimage it first became my first printed publication and has since been published in several other places.

For info on the 2010 pilgrimage, click here.

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“‘The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field’”. Matthew 13:44

The road from Ballarat to Bendigo has a great place in Australian history. In the 1850s it was the site of Australia’s great gold-rush, with men flocking from the other colonies in search of their fortune.

How fitting then that for three days each year it becomes the home of the Church’s greatest treasure: the traditional liturgy. Last year more than three hundred men, women and children, on a cold morning in Ballarat, began their search for a treasure far greater than gold. I was blessed to be one of their members.

Almost a year since that date it would be easy for me now to wax lyrical about the countless wonders of those days: the beauty of the chant, the splendour of the vestments, the holiness of the old lady walking without shoes, the wisdom of the priests, the ringing of the bells and swinging of the thurrible. To do so would be disingenuous. The truth is that for the first two days I noticed very few of these things.

The Church talks in many instances of man’s blindness. We have the epic image of St. Paul’s scales which covered his eyes after his vision of Christ on the road to Damascus. In other places man can be blinded by sin; clear from me my unknown fault is the cry of the great psalmist. In my case I believe I was blinded by insecurity.

Like most people, this great treasure has indeed been hidden from me. Upon encountering it my reaction was very different to the man Our Lord speaks of in Matthew’s Gospel. Rather than covering it, going and selling everything I owned and buying the field, I spent the first two nights of the pilgrimage restless with anxiety. I hadn’t kneeled at the right time, or crossed myself at the right moment, I shouldn’t have responded when I did, I bet everybody noticed I didn’t know the words to ‘Tantum Ergo’. Now, having grown in my love and knowledge of this great treasure of the Church, I realize that one acquainted with it is far too distracted with the joy which leaps from its beauty to notice the person in the pews next to them.

The seminal moment for me came on the third day. After two and a half days of walking along a hot, dusty country road, this band of three hundred strong men, women, old and young, priests and religious do something incredible...they race up a hill! This particular tradition of the pilgrimage struck me for a number of reasons. Firstly, it struck me as an act of profound audacity, the sort of audacity that sees men leap from horses into the arms of lepers, that makes men turn from the law of man to the law of God, the audacity that converts soldiers into Apostles and sinners into saints.

Secondly, it struck me as being uniquely Australian in its character. It was my suspicion at the time, a suspicion which has since been confirmed, that no such tradition exists in the Notre Dame to Chartres pilgrimage by which our Australian version is inspired. Our Lord instructs us again and again to be without anxiety and to have a lightness of heart. I believe the Church in Australia has followed this instruction with vigour.

Lastly, this race made such an impression on me because it got to the heart of who I really am. It surprised me at first, but I soon came to realize that amongst the men on the pilgrimage there was a real rivalry and competition. I tried to avoid all conversations and speculations on the event that went on in the days before, but from myself at least I could not conceal the fact...I desperately wanted to win.

When the whistle was blown and the charge began I moved quickly from my start, trying not to knock over the competitive seven year old beside me. I gauged the competition and quickly realized this could be my moment. As I moved through the gears into a full sprint memories of former dreams rushed through my mind. All the mornings and evenings running alone in the park, or with soccer teams through the streets of North West London (all of us chasing the elusive dream of professional contracts and fantasy lives) became renewed in a greater pursuit. I was running toward the foot of the cross.

I reached the crucifix, touched the feet of Our Lord and was proclaimed the victor. I was flying. Pride surged through me for the next few moments as I celebrated my victory.

“Do you run a lot Paul?”

“No I don’t actually, I think I must just have a natural athleticism.”

Our Lord has His way of bringing us back to earth at such moments. Just a few months ago I had been diagnosed with temporary asthma, but had never had an attack. My clever, little boastful remarks were literally cut short by my lack of breath. Just moments after my great triumph I suffered the ignominy of having to crawl inside the accompanying St. John’s ambulance and draw my breath from an inhaler. Outside the morning reflection was given by Father Hynes.

But as I sat tired, sore and rather embarrassed, in the back of that bus I heard the words of Our Lord spoken through the prophet Isaiah: “I will never forget you, I have carved you upon the palm of my hand”. On this great feast of the Church I remembered that the greatest of all men had hung on the cross as one despised and rejected by the world. I realized too that He had been closer to me when I had laid anxiously alone in my tent, and as I gasped for air in the back of the ambulance, then He ever had been when I stood proud on the top of the hill.

I knew at that moment that I had “found a well of comfort that would never run dry”.

Christus Vincit! Christus Regnat! Christus Imperat!

Christ Victorious! Christ Reigns! Christ the King!