A Reflection on Matthew 12:38–42 : Discover how we often overlook the quiet greatness of Jesus and the people closest to us.
Praise be to Jesus Christ
There was once a young man who left his village and went to the city to work. He wanted to earn more, buy better clothes, enjoy richer food, and live what he thought was a bigger life. He rarely wrote to his parents. Whenever they called, he was always “too busy.”
Years passed. One day, he received news that his father had died suddenly. He rushed home and, for the first time in many years, walked through the old house.
As he stepped into his father’s small room, he noticed a box filled with neatly folded letters. They were all the letters he had written as a child. There were drawings, poems, birthday notes and all kept carefully. On top of the box was a torn photo of the two of them, with a note written in his father’s faded handwriting: “My greatest treasure.”
The young man broke down. He had gone far in search of success, greatness, and happiness. But the person who had loved him most, who sacrificed without speaking, who waited without complaining, had been there all along. And now, it was too late.
This is the sorrow of our time. We often fail to recognise the greatness of those already with us.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus says, “Something greater than Jonah is here… something greater than Solomon is here.” Yet the people around Him could not see it. They were asking for signs and miracles, looking for something big and dramatic. But they missed what was right in front of them, the very Son of God, standing there, speaking with them. Sadly, this still happens. We are surrounded by people who carry quiet greatness, but we do not always see it.
A mother wakes early and sleeps late, caring for everyone. A father carries a hundred silent burdens but still smiles. A child says, “I love you” with a simple drawing. A spouse waits patiently for a kind word. All of them reveal love, sacrifice, and hidden strength, but we often overlook them.
Instead, we are drawn to what is loud, shiny, or new. We chase after messages on our phones. We search for approval from people who hardly know us. We long for excitement in distant places, even when love and peace are already sitting quietly beside us.
It is the same with Jesus in the Eucharist. We have His real and living presence; body, blood, soul, and divinity, in every Mass. Yet many still run after healers, speakers, and signs. We look for Jesus elsewhere, while He waits for us silently in the tabernacle. He is like that father, holding our letters, remembering our love, even when we forget Him.
Jesus is the one who is greater, greater than Solomon’s wisdom and greater than Jonah’s preaching. Yes, greater than anything the world can offer. But He does not shout or demand attention. He comes gently: in the stillness of prayer, in the breaking of the bread, in the tired hands of our parents and in the quiet presence of those who love us without making noise.
Let us open our eyes and hearts. Let us stop looking far away and start looking near. Let us not wait for death or distance to realise what we had. Let us honour our parents while they are alive. Let us speak kindly to our spouses today. Let us hold our children a little closer. Let us sit before the Blessed Sacrament, not only asking for signs, but simply being with the One who is already with us and loves us, because truly, something greater is here.
Lord, open my heart to see the greatness of Your love in the people around me and in Your presence in the Holy Eucharist. Amen.
