Two very different parables about seeds in today’s gospel. Each parable reveals a very different facet of this disruptive and uncontrollable thing we call the kingdom of God.
The first parable urges us to trust a natural growth process that happens when a seed is planted.
There is the story of the man who sowed seed in his field, and every day dug up the soil to see how the seed was doing. He wanted to catch each moment in the interaction between seed and soil and intervene in their natural lovemaking. He did not trust the seed and soil to grow without his ongoing tweaking. Needless to say, nothing ever grew.
The parable of Jesus in today’s gospel offers a different strategy. Once contact is made between seed and soil, between the word of God and the human heart, a process of development begins. This process is more mysterious than we know and we should not interfere with it, not try to tweak it. It’s a matter of paying attention to that process, of trusting it, cooperating with it. Paying attention.
Pay attention to where God at work in the world around you.
Where is love breaking out, justice being pursued, freedom being won, human dignity being insisted on and restored?
Pay attention to where God at work in your own heart.
- Where do you find beauty?
- When does your heart melt?
- When do you get goosebumps?
- When does your heart begin to race from a new sense of purpose?
- When do you feel outrage at injustice, and find hope in an otherwise dark moment?
All of these are signs of God’s presence, and it’s a matter of being actively attentive to them both within and around us, trusting them.
And then, when the harvest arrives, cooperating with that process, going into the field with our sickles to bring in the crop.
But most of the time, it’s a matter of waiting patiently, with trust.
Sometimes finding our deepest joy and purpose in life is less a matter of some dramatic action, some heroic decision made in haste, perhaps out of fear of never finding it, than it is of simply going about the rhythms of our days, “sleep and rise night and day”, trusting that God is at work in our lives, leading us step-by-step to a fuller and richer life; the seed is slowly germinating and growing into the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head, then the abundant harvest, then the bread.
Our task most of the time is simply to pay attention to what is God is doing, often very subtly, hidden and underground, both within and around us.
The writer Nikos Kazantzakis tells us that once when he was a boy he noticed a cocoon stuck to a tree; a butterfly was about to emerge. He waited a while, but it was taking too long, so he decided to warm the cocoon with his breath. The butterfly finally emerged but its wings were still stuck together and it died soon afterwards.
Kazantzakis says, “I just couldn’t wait for the sun to complete the necessary process of patient maturation. That small corpse is until this very day one of the heaviest burdens on my conscience. But that’s what made me understand what a true mortal sin is: trying to force the great laws of the universe. We have to have patience, wait for the right time and then follow confidently the rhythm that God has chosen for our lives.”
The second parable about the mustard seed reveals a very different facet of this uncontrollable kingdom: This kingdom is very disruptive.
I’ve always liked this story of the mustard seed, found comfort in it. The mustard seed is so small, but grows into a huge shrub. Like my faith, so small and fragile, that can, with God’s grace, do great things. I still find a much-needed comfort in this understanding of this story--an encouraging, hopeful word.
But did you know there’s another side to the mustard seed? The shrub it grows into is a nuisance that will, if you let it, destroy your whole carefully planned garden. This is not like the beautiful, powerful Cedars of Lebanon we sing about in the psalms. This is a bitter-smelling shrub, about 3-4 feet tall, that shoots out uncontrollably in all directions. It can overrun your whole garden.
And that, Jesus says, is what the kingdom of God is like. Watch out!
Every Sunday around this table we pray, “Your kingdom come.” But be careful what you pray for! You have been warned! Like a mustard seed disrupts your awesome garden, the kingdom of God will disrupt your life.
It’s like falling in love, or deciding to raise a kid. Perhaps a carefully planned career path gets tossed aside. You spend your time and money differently. You discover new joys and delights, and you sacrifice some things you thought you could never live without. The kingdom is disruptive like that, like love.
That kingdom drove Martin Luther King to Selma, Rosa Parks to the front of the bus, many of the Freedom Fighters to have their legs broken, Cesar Chavez to Delano. It is, I suspect, what draws many of us to this part of the city, to worship here--in a tragic and beautiful neighborhood like this, a crazy community like ours--when, if we had more sense, we’d be reading the New York Times in some trendy coffee shop, or doing brunch.
And into your carefully planned garden, the mustard shrub attracts birds--birds that are unwelcome because they will eat whatever other seeds or fruit you may be trying so hard to grow.
As the word of Jesus takes root in your heart, you’ll begin to notice people starting to cross your path seeking shelter from their storms. Don’t say you were not warned. They will find you.
They might come, like many come here to St. John’s, after a night on the streets asking for coffee and a few bucks for a Big Mac, or on a Saturday morning for a bag of groceries.
Sometimes they might be like the family we met-- Ricardo and Amelie and Nicole--who needed our help to keep their family from being torn apart, from Ricardo being unjustly deported to Guatemala where his life would be in danger.
Or they might be like the young ex-gangbanger who was trying to start a new life, who needed a few odd jobs to earn some money, and later some help to bury his girlfriend after she was tragically shot and killed.
Or, in another way, it might be one of the struggling non-profits in the neighborhood who can’t afford today’s high rents for meeting space and who asks to use our church.
The kingdom will completely disrupt our carefully planned worlds. And just as the birds of the air find shelter in the branches of the mustard tree, so people will seek us out for shelter.
So the kingdom is beyond our control. And it is, like a mustard shrub, disruptive, a nuisance.
And yet...and here’s where it gets a little weird...it’s also our hearts’ deepest desire, something we rightly pray for week after week: Your kingdom come. Go figure.
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