Posted by: pastor on 06/15/2009 11:28:41
sermon from June 14
All Kidding Aside
Sola fide, sola gratia, sola scriptura. Faith alone, grace alone, word alone: a Trinitarian tagline for Lutheran teaching. Yet for a denomination that asserts the centrality of Scripture as the “authoritative source and norm for proclamation, faith, and life” we have not taken the Bible nearly as seriously as one might think—and to our detriment. Thus, the Ev. Lutheran Church in America—our church body—has begun an initiative, Opening the Book of Faith, aimed at increasing Lutherans’ literacy and fluency in the Bible. In other words: a Churchwide movement to take Scripture more seriously. And not a moment too soon!
If we did take the Bible more seriously—if we became more familiar with Scripture—intimate with its stories, its poetry, its themes and cadences, then perhaps we’d be less apt to take Jesus so seriously. Don’t get me wrong: the person and work of Jesus—his incarnation, his life, death & resurrection—are at the heart of Christian faith. And much of his teaching is, itself, serious business.
But good people: as God-in-flesh, fully human person, Jesus could, at times, be a very funny guy, with a wonderfully dry wit! Take, as an example, the parable of the mustard seed. You & I tend to hear the story with our hyper-serious, sober Sunday school ears that only church-y matters can command, and fail to find the humor that Jesus’ first hearers would surely not have missed. With the right audience, the story might be suitable for the Catskills comedy circuit.
“With what can we compare the reign of God, or what parable shall we use for it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown upon the earth, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth [Well, no, not quite: there’s radish, celery, and sesame seeds that I can think of right off the bat]; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the largest of all the shrubs [no, not exactly true, either], and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
It Matthew & Luke Jesus’ hyperbole is even greater: the tiny mustard seed becomes not just a large shrub, but a veritable tree!
The mustard seed, while by no means the smallest known in ancient Palestine, was a common symbol of smallness. But the mustard plant? It hardly qualifies by any measure as a symbol of greatness. For that Jesus’ audience might have expected something like the mighty oaks of Mamre, sprouting from a little acorn—or better yet, the great cedars of Lebanon. You and I might find a hint of Jesus’ humor by the appearance a more obvious icon of eminence in the cedars in today’s first reading as well as the psalm…the metaphor he chose not to use.
Cedars are rather amazing. A couple of years ago I found a little one growing among some pachysandra in our yard in Connecticut—not a part of the landscaping plan—and dug it up & replanted it behind what was once the outhouse. I had little expectation that it would do much of anything, but didn’t want to discard it, either, so just stuck it into the ground. Well, perhaps the soil there is particularly fertile; but when I saw that little cedar a few weeks ago, it wasn’t so little: at least six feet tall! Jesus had a well-known alternative to the less-than-lofty mustard bush.
So there is a hint of humor in Jesus’ choice of mustard. But it’s not a joke. Mustard is comparatively insignificant. It’s no cedar in majesty: it doesn’t grow spectacularly; but is does grow measurably—significantly, and what it lacks in grandeur, it makes up for in ubiquity: it’s found all over Israel. And that is Jesus’ point.
With what can we compare the reign of God? It is like a grain of mustard seed, like one insignificant tribe of people, chosen by God, like one carpenter’s son from the backwoods of Galilee, sown in the ground, buried in death, whose resurrected life will sprout here and there—perhaps without even attracting much notice—just another mustard shrub—but which will surely appear all throughout the earth.
Listening to NPR the other day I heard a segment of Youth Radio, in which a high school sophomore spoke in defense of “nerd-dom.” The speaker was one who was not anxious to be done with school—loved learning with the same passion that many youth reserve for sports or music or sweethearts or summers off. And she was irritated by those—including her parents—who urged her to loosen up, to get a “B” now and then, to enjoy her youth while she has it. She went on to explain: she is ambitious, not necessarily to be wealthy, but to be an extraordinary person. That was the word she used: extraordinary. And as I listened I wondered if her parents and the others weren’t right—is she was, perhaps, rather precocious and a bit self-important. But I suppose that’s what many of us want for ourselves, or hope for our children: to be extra-ordinary—special—to excel, to be like, well, the great cedars of Lebanon.
We don’t likely aim to be like the unassuming, ever-present mustard plant. Yet the humble mustard bush, which develops without its own volition from a little seed, is no useless weed, collecting water and drawing nutrients from the earth for naught, but grows to significant size and provides nesting-places for birds in its branches. It has a purpose beyond its own development. The reign of God is like that: it sprouts up here and there and everywhere, usually without attracting much notice, but effecting God’s purpose, serving God’s gracious will.
We who have been buried with Jesus in Holy Baptism, whose roots continue to draw life in the Holy Eucharist, in communion with God through prayer and with God’s people in the weekly assembly, have become embodiments of God’s purpose—agents and embodiments of God’s reign—here and there and everywhere.
More likely unassuming mustard shrubs than glorious cedars, more probably like draft horses than thoroughbreds, more like cellos than violins, more like pick-up trucks than Porsches, yet unquestionably empowered by the Holy Spirit, by the grace of God bringing healing, cultivating reconciliation, unraveling oppression, enlarging justice.
The reign of God is here. It is now. You & I are a part of it. And it continues to sprout and spread more surely and more widely than kudzu… No kidding. Amen.
