Around the time that the gold rushes ended in the nineteenthcentury West, a curious phenomenon arose in New England known as money diggers. These were men who roamed the countryside with shovels, divining rods, and superstitious hope, convinced that treasure lay buried beneath their feet. Surely there must be gold under our feet. But there was not. The craze of these wild goose chases caused many to lose farms, families, and sanity.

A man recently told me he was losing patience with the Church. "It's supposed to be God's Kingdom on earth," he said, "but it's full of contradictions and hypocrisy. Why can't the Church just be better?" That last word landed with a judgmental thud. It hurt. Because at times the Church can look painfully ordinary, even disappointing.

Sometimes I feel capable of absorbing almost anything except God's Word. My mind soaks up song lyrics, sports trivia, and endless online content. But what was the reading at Mass this morning? I struggle to recall. That realization discourages me, and it leads to an uncomfortable question. What is my heart really for? Is it shaped for constant information and distraction, or is it truly designed for God? Am I capable of deeply receiving His Word?

This weekend, our nation celebrates the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Unlike most nations, the United States was not founded primarily on a shared ethnicity, language, or culture. Instead, our founders built a political community out of diverse peoples united by a shared vision of liberty. That vision echoes something deep in the Christian mystery revealed in today's Gospel.