The Pearl of Great Price Hides in the Particular

Last night, Sally and I went to see Hamnet, a movie about the backstory of Shakespeare’s classic Hamlet. No fear, there are no spoilers here. The movie is gritty, moody, and very well acted. It is an interesting and compelling story by itself. However, it was the interspersing of lines from the play itself that brought the movie to life for me in a far deeper way. Attaching some of Shakespeare’s staggeringly beautiful, and somewhat mystifying, words to events of his life – putting them into the deeper context of his human existence – brought an entirely different dimension to them. I cannot speak to the facts of the story, nor do I feel I need to – there is a beauty to the idea that is worthy by itself.

Earlier in 2025, I had the opportunity to read and discuss Hamlet in a course. Before that class, William Shakespeare’s work was quite opaque to me. I recognized famous lines from his plays but had little understanding of, or interest in, their meaning or context. Our instructor reminded us frequently to “attend to the details,” avoiding assumption and even first impressions to dig deeper into what the author really meant. With her guidance, I began to understand the words, see the images, and follow the story. Adding outside commentary, watching Kenneth Branaugh perform it, and discussing the play brought it to life in surprising and delightful ways. With understanding, it became powerfully beautiful.

Just over a year ago, we were standing in the Musee D’Orsay in Paris, looking at a dizzying array of works of art by people like Van Gogh, Renoir, Degas, and Gaugin. I recognized the names and many of the paintings looked familiar. Time was short and there were many, many things to see, so we raced through, trying to put our eyes on a few things that struck us. Curiously, the most memorable thing in that museum came while walking through one of its cafes. Glancing up at the skeleton of a giant clock on one of the walls, we noticed a window behind it with a clear view of Sacre Coeur, the beautiful basilica on the hilltop of Montmartre.

I viewed so many paintings that day, however, the image of Sacre Coeur stands out in my mind. The beautiful, white travertine limestone and striking Roman-Byzantine architecture, fill my mind’s eye. We had been there the day before and had spent several hours exploring her vaults, gazing at the artwork of her design, and learning of her history. The Basilica is beautiful to behold, but the details of its design, construction, and story brought it to life – gave it dimension beyond its towering edifice. Sally and I smiled broadly at the beauty of the vision, then laughed at the irony of seeing it amid the priceless art of the gallery and the croissants of the cafe. Knowing it made the Basilica more fully alive to us.

There are untold glories hidden in the specific but we miss them. Ours is a culture so often content with skimming along the surface. We are addicted to soundbites, platitudes, and headlines. We stand up, snacking on the crumbs at the counter, rather than sitting down to the five course meal hidden in the particular. We listen to podcasts and books at 1.5x or 2x speed so we can get through more quickly. We binge and fast-forward on shows, trying to squeeze as much as we possibly can into the allotted sliver of time. We race through museums so we can say we saw something famous – often stopping just long enough to get a selfie to prove it. Consumed with telling our story on Instagram, we miss the amazing story hiding behind us. And within us.

Down the street from the Musee D’Orsay is the Louvre, holding the famous Mona Lisa, painted by Leonardo DaVinci in the 16th Century. A story unto itself, the iconic Mona Lisa reflects the obsessive genius of its painter, whose use of light and dark – chiaroscuro – and incredibly detailed studies of human and animal anatomy informed and inspired generations of artists and scientists in and after his time. The painting by itself is simply a famous work by a famous artist, having little depth or meaning to the uninformed. But like so many great works, takes on new meaning with understanding.

We see this in so many things of life. Books, movies, buildings, research projects – the size, scope, and complexity of which are beyond comprehension – or at least beyond our ability to invest the time to understand enough to fully appreciate. But much is lost in our cursory passings. Walking through Barnes and Noble the other day, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of books. Old books. New books. Great titles, interesting covers, fabulous blurbs highlighting the incredible stories. No wonder we have book summary services to help us get to the point, get the gist, or get just enough to check the box.

Considering our tendency to race to the finish or skim experiences, I’m reminded of our time on the Camino de Santiago and how many people we found joining the journey with 100km to the destination. After 3 weeks and 400km, we found ourselves in masses of pilgrims wanting to get the compostelo, the stamp of proof, for completing the journey – or at least enough of the journey. We so often approach the epic as a collector. We want to collect the next experience, the next view, the next been-there-done-that. There is certainly nothing wrong with wanting to do, see, taste, or visit as much of this beautiful world as possible, but how much are we getting along the way?

Something happens when we slow down and attend to the details. Sure, we will learn more. Yes, we will see the thing with more depth and understanding. We might come to appreciate it more or perhaps we’ll find that in the knowing, we don’t care for it. We don’t have to love everything. But there is something even greater than the knowing and the understanding by itself. When we engage with the particular, do the hard work of knowing, wrestle with the mysteries that lead to understanding, and dig more deeply to get to the heart of the story, we come to know ourself and our place in the world more deeply.

And we often find that we are changed along the way.

When we dig more deeply, we find the gold hidden in the hills. When we dive to the depths, we find the pearl of great price, the one worth selling all we have to finally possess. There are great treasures buried in the details. It turns out that within the particular is an undiscovered country: revelations about life, others, and ourselves. Beauty revealed only after great toil and the price of sacrifice. It is a a place that can only be found with significant effort, there are no shortcuts or Cliffs Notes.

Most importantly, we discover in going deeper, that the point wasn’t finding something else to collect, but someone else to become.