That pesky mustard seed

The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 12, Year A

July 30, 2017

The Rev'd Richard Smith. Ph.D.

Heaven is totally overrated. It seems boring. Clouds, listening to people play the harp. It should be somewhere you can’t wait to go, like a luxury hotel. Maybe blue skies and soft music were enough to keep people in line in the 17th century, but Heaven has to step it up a bit. They’re basically getting by because they only have to be better than Hell. 

These are the words of LA Times columnist Joel Stein, and he’s right. I don't know where this boring idea of a gauzy, cloud-filled, harpy afterlife came from, but it certainly wasn’t from Jesus or our Jewish spiritual ancestors. Their concern was with this world--a new world in the making, even now, right here on this earth. They called it the reign of God, and they longed for it and spoke of it in beautiful poetry, like these words from Isaiah:

On this mountain the Lord will prepare
    a feast of rich food for all peoples,
a banquet of aged wine—
    the best of meats and the finest of wines.
7 On this mountain he will destroy
    the shroud that enfolds all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;
8     he will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears
    from all faces;
he will remove his people’s disgrace
    from all the earth.

The reign of God.

In the parables in todays’ gospel, Jesus adds even more images, each revealing a slightly different facet of this reign of God. He gives you several to choose from: a mustard seed, a treasure you stumble across in a field, a great pearl you find after a long search, yeast that permeates the dough. Each is a little different, but there are a few themes that run through all of them. I'll mention just one.

The reign of God is disruptive., tainting the reality we’ve grown to accept, challenging the views we’ve lived by, and subverting assumptions that have guided much of our lives in the world.

• Take the mustard seed. Most of us grew up reading this parable somewhat simplistically – “big things often have small beginnings”. That’s the platitude. But the truth is that mustard was a pesky weed--uncontrollable, invasive, undesirable, like crabgrass or dandelions. Mustard was disruptive of whatever you were trying to grow in your garden or your field. 
• And yeast--it, too, was disruptive. As some commentators note, in the biblical world, yeast was a sign of impurity. Kneading it into flour irreparably tainted the bread.
• Buying a field because you happen to know it’s worth far more than the seller is aware may be a shrewd business strategy, but it could also be considered dubious, if not a little sketchy.
• And the idea that you, a purveyor of fine pearls, would sell everything, including all the other amazing pearls you’ve acquired over the years, to buy just one special pearl, makes no sense. It would raise eyebrows, make your business colleagues wonder what you’re up to. 

Which is to say the reign of God disrupts the world as we've come to know it, challenges the views we’ve lived by, and again and again subverts the political regimes and cultural assumptions that have guided much of our lives in the world.

This is the disruptive message of Jesus, whose family thought he was crazy, the political leaders deemed subversive, the religious leaders deemed a blasphemer and a heretic.

Depending on where you’re standing, Jesus’ disruptive message can be good news or bad. For those who are content, disrupting your life by planting mustard or selling everything to possess a single pearl, no matter how valuable, would be crazy. To them, these disruptions will be bad news.

But to those who are not content – with the status quo, with the lack of resources they need to survive (healthcare, education, a decent wage) or with the values, stereotypes, or prejudices of the dominant culture – to these, Jesus’ gospel, disruptive and upsetting as it is, nevertheless rings true and real, something worth buying at any cost. For these, disruption is a good thing. It is the foundation of resistance to a regime that is oppressive and a culture that is so often racist, homophobic, and misogynistic. It explains why, back in the day, many slave masters would not allow such a subversive message to be preached to their slaves lest it foment rebellion.

Maybe this is why the gospel resonates most deeply among those for whom life is most fragile. As David Lose writes, "When you can set yourself up with the comforts of the world, and fortify the illusion that you are master of the universe, why would you need the gospel? As Paul says, the gospel appears foolish in the eyes of the world and so has little value to the self-contented, the self-made man or woman of the age, and the powerful." (http://www.davidlose.net/2017/07/pentecost-8-a-parabolic-promises/)

But to those whose spirits are crushed – whether by illness or disappointment or poverty or discrimination or the inequities of the economic system – Jesus’ promises are good news -- in fact, they are the best news we’ve heard and worth sacrificing everything for.

To those who recognize there is something more out there than the world can offer, who can feel the deep ache in their hearts for true joy, then that reign of God will surpass our wildest dreams. It will disrupt, invade, take over, and transform our lives--even here, even now.

The Sower

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Year A, Proper 10

The Rev'd Richard Smith, Ph.D.

When the disciples ask Jesus to explain the story in today’s gospel, he begins by giving that story a title. He calls it “the parable of the sower”, which I take to mean this story is not so much about the seed that is sown nor about the soil it’s sown in. Rather, it’s more about the one who does the sowing. This is a parable about a sower.

What can we say about this sower except that he is reckless and extravagant--scattering seeds everywhere, regardless of whether they land

• among rocks where they are unlikely to take root, 
• or along the footpath where the birds will likely eat them, 
• or among thorns where they can get choked. 

None of this seems to matter to this unlikely sower who seems so careless and inefficient.

Which is exactly how Jesus went about sowing his message--carelessly, recklessly, inefficiently, extravagantly--giving himself, his message, his works of healing to those least likely to yield a harvest. This was the irony in his ministry--that he had come not for the righteous, whom you’d reasonably expect to yield a rich harvest, but for the lost sheep: the whores and scarecrows and misfits of his day.

But, ironically, this inefficient strategy seemed to work. As he explained to the religious leaders, “the tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of heaven ahead of you.” Those you’d least expect understood him more than did the righteous. Clearly, there was a method to this reckless sower’s madness.

This has implications. For example, if you’re ever looking for God in your own life, don’t forget to look in the places you’d least expect to find him--perhaps in moments of darkness, disappointment, pain, and yes, sinfulness--the rocky, thorny soil of your own heart.

One day, the great spiritual writer, Thomas Merton, was reading through the pages of his own journal. He prayed: “I am content that these pages show me to be what I am--noisy, full of the racket of my imperfections and passions, and the wide open wounds left by my sins. Full of my own emptiness. Yet, ruined as my house is, You live there!”

This was his confidence, that even in the darkness and noise and racket of his own heart, the seeds of God’s presence were there. His life may have been rocky and full of thorns, but Merton knew God was there.

Sometimes it can take awhile for that seed that God has planted to become visible.

This is a dark time for our country. The drums of war are beating more loudly now, more immigrant families are being torn apart, the wealthy are getting increasingly wealthy while more and more people are left homeless, and the earth is not as safe now.

If we are to believe today’s gospel, then we know that even in these rocky, thorny times the reckless sower has planted seeds. It may take time for those seeds to become apparent, for the presence and the work of God to be clearly seen.

Yet even in the darkness of the world and the darkness and racket of our own hearts, the reckless sower has already planted seeds. Although still unseen, those seeds are already growing. Do you see them yet?

Keep your eyes open for glimpses of grace; it is the hour of the unexpected.