When I was a little girl I remember
my mother and I looking through her jewelry box at all the treasures contained
there. Among the rings, brooches and bracelets I found a very small pendant on
a thin golden chain. It was not particularly pretty and I had never seen my
mother wear it before. At the end of the chain hung a small resin ball. Inside
of the ball was a tiny yellow seed, so small that it was hard to see. When I
asked my mom what it was—unsure of why some one would make, let alone wear such
a strange piece of jewelry—she told me the parable of the mustard seed. The
necklace, given to her at some important childhood event—baptism or
confirmation, I imagine—actually contained a real mustard seed and was meant to
be worn as a reminder of the seeds of faith and the kingdom of God.
Now, the Easton’s are not farming people, or at least we
haven’t been for some time, so I remember my urban child’s imagination taking
hold of that mustard seed with some awe and wonder. It was the smallest seed I
had ever seen. Smaller than an apple seed. Smaller than a sunflower seed.
Smaller, even, than the birdseed that we used to feed our pet parakeet. In my
mind’s eye I could see that seed, planted deep in the ground, breaking open
through some miracle of nature and slowly growing a whole tree.
The kingdom of God is like that.
Today’s gospel reading marks the end of Matthew’s sprint
through the parables. Over the past several weeks we have heard Jesus address
the crowds and privately speak to the disciples in stories that describe the
kingdom of God. The sower in the field, the seed scattered on different soils,
the pearl of great price, the buried treasure—all of these stories point toward
the incredible reality of God’s presence and God’s plan in the midst of our
daily lives.
Sometimes people describe parables as “riddles,” kernels of
timeless wisdom that just need to be figured out in order for their truth to be
unlocked. The thing about riddles, however, is that they always contain an
element of trickery, a surprise punchline that is intended to surprise the
stumped listener. I don’t think that is what Jesus had in mind when he shared
these stories with the crowds that followed him. I don’t think that he was
trying to display his wit or his secret knowledge about the kingdom. Instead, I
think that Jesus was purposely using everyday images—images that the people
around him could relate to and reflect on—so that the kingdom of God could feel
even more near, even more imminent, than it already did.
So what about the mustard seed? How is it like the kingdom
of God? Even as a child who had no
experience with gardening, I could relate to this image and my curiosity and
wonderment could run with it. What I find most captivating about this
particular parable is its focus on growth, on past, present, and future.
“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that
someone took and sowed in his field,” Jesus
says. “It is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it
is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come
and make nests in its branches…”
Here, the kingdom of heaven—the kingdom of God—is both seed
and tree. It is that tiny germ, so full of potential, holding its future within
itself, latent but still full of promise. And in the same image we see the tree
that the seed becomes—its roots, its branches, its usefulness as a nesting
place for the birds. In this one parable we see the past and the future, the
potential and the fulfillment of God’s presence in our lives.
The kingdom of God is like that.
And though we know that the kingdom is all around us, that
it comes near in all kinds of ways, we also know that the Church itself is a
very real representation of God’s kingdom on earth. Like the tiny mustard seed,
our tradition shows us that the Church grew from one person, Jesus, to the
twelve disciples, to the 120 believers at Pentecost, to the worldwide movement
of Christ’s followers. What seemed impossible—that a carpenter from a backwater
village could change the world—became a reality as the tiny seed was planted
and became a tree. And it is not just the church with a Capital C—the Church
universal— that shows us the reality of this parable, but it is the individual
church as well, the neighborhood parish, the small gathered body of God’s
people that points us toward the kingdom.
It is this church. This community. Right now. This is the kingdom of God. Seeds and sowers and
treasures in fields may not speak to us in the same ways that they did to
Jesus’ first audience. And yet, the truth of the parables—the reality of the
nearness of God—continues in our lives and communities every day.
The kingdom of God is like a hungry child who, unsure of
whether he will be fed at home, is given a warm meal after school by a group of
volunteers.
The kingdom of God is like a forgotten region of a war torn country
where, when discovered by a group of people thousands of miles away as being in
need of resources, is given a community center and an opportunity to improve.
The kingdom of God is like a single mother getting off
drugs, who is finally able to reunite with her children because she has a safe
place to live and the ability to provide for them.
The kingdom of God is like a recent college graduate who,
feeling a call from God but unsure of whether she can really fulfill it, is
given a place to live and a community of support as she discerns her vocation.
The kingdom of God is like that.
Like a mustard seed planted in the ground, its future and
present and past all wrapped up together in one shell, this parish has shown
the broader community exactly what the kingdom of God looks like. The stories
of this place have become parables of God’s presence among us, offering images
of inspiration to all those whose lives have been touched here. And the stories are not done being
written. Imagine the parables that will burst from this place in the coming
years, the awesome examples of God working among God’s people as this parish
discerns and grows and changes.
What does the kingdom of God look like? I imagine it looks a
lot like this.
