“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone
took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when
it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs..” (Matthew 13:31b-32a)
So what’s up with this? “The greatest of shrubs?” That’s like
saying the tallest of jockeys. On the surface, it really doesn’t sound that
impressive, does it?
Jesus is a hard guy to figure out at times. In the gospel lesson
assigned for Pentecost 9, Year A (Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52) he goes off on some
pretty wild analogies that make him sound as inscrutable as Charlie Chan
reading a fortune cookie. Just what does he mean by “the Kingdom of Heaven”
anyway?
I guess I have to start with the egghead explanation that Matthew, being
a nice Jewish boy, doesn’t want to say “Kingdom of God” because using the
divine name seems rather impolite. It’s like being a twelve-year-old and
addressing your mom by her first name. Unless your mom has a particularly
liberal personality, that kind of thing just doesn’t go over well.[i] So
Matthew substitutes “Heaven” for “God,” but he’s really talking about the same
thing—the way things would be under God’s complete rule.
What Matthew seems to be doing in these verses is combining some of
Jesus’ wisdom lessons. Jesus uses stuff everybody knew about to explain things
we don’t know or think about. What would it be like if we were to follow God’s
path? What is God’s plan for us and how would we respond to it if we were to
recognize it?
Jesus gives us five different analogies in this lesson: the mustard
seed, the yeast, the buried treasure, the pearl, and the fishnet. I’m sure I’d
bore the pants off of you if I tried to discuss each of these in one post, so
I’m just going to write about mustard and yeast.[ii]
Of course, the mustard seed parable seems kind of obvious: good things can come
in small ways. The seed may be tiny, but it grows to be a fairly substantial
shrub. The problem is a shrub isn’t as impressive as a tree. Jesus could’ve
said, “From the small acorn grows the mighty oak,” and he’d be making a much
more impactful comparison. But I think that’s his point. The result of the tiny
action doesn’t have to be massive, mighty, or in any way impressive. God’s work
isn’t a competition. Quantity is a selfish, human value. The mustard bush can
still shelter critters and provide a really good condiment for your hotdog. It
doesn’t have to be an oak or a cedar of Lebanon. In God’s eyes the mustard bush
is just as important as the tallest tree.
The yeast analogy may seem a little more confusing, but I think Jesus is
messing with his hearers’ expectations here again. Yeast is a great thing if
you’re baking bread or brewing beer. It’s not such a great thing if you have a
yeast infection. I know. A while back our dog got a yeast infection on
one of her hind feet. She was terribly uncomfortable. The vet gave us medicine
and we had to wash her foot for a week and put her head in a cone so she
wouldn’t lick off the ointment. It was a pain in the butt (But I digress.). During
Passover, the Feast of Unleavened Bread, a pious Jewish mom is supposed to
sweep her house clean of all possible yeast and yeast-containing products
because yeast is seen to defile the holy days.
In Jesus’ parable, the bread-baking woman (Who is, by the way, baking a
whole lot of bread. 3 measures of flour is like 50 pounds or enough for 40
loaves. She must be expecting company!) conceals yeast in her dough. The
Greek word doesn’t mean “mixed” but, rather, “hid.” Is there something illicit,
subversive, or counter-cultural in this inclusion? Is Jesus suggesting we
include something which might not otherwise be accepted?
In 1947 the Brooklyn Dodgers mixed one Black infielder in with an
all-white baseball league and all professional baseball—and a lot of American
culture—was changed. In 1970 the Lutheran Church in America mixed into the
roster of ordained ministers of Word and Sacrament Elizabeth Platz, the first
female Lutheran pastor in North America. Our congregations have benefited from
the wisdom, warmth, and experience of women clergy ever since. In 2009 the ELCA
Churchwide Assembly approved mixing into that same roster openly partnered
LGBTQ+ individuals and thousands of Christians who previously felt excluded
from the Church found they had a welcoming place to worship God. In God’s
Kingdom, the tiniest of actions can have the most momentous consequences—all expectations
to the contrary.
I’ll skip over the treasure, the pearl, and the fishnet for now, but I
wanted to add a word about the First Lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary (1
Kings 3:5-12)[iii]. If you know anything at
all about King Solomon, you know the boy had a reputation for wisdom. Remember
the story about the two hookers in a child custody battle?[iv]
In Chapter 3 we find him at the start of his reign. He’s just assassinated all
his political rivals, so he’s feeling pretty secure on the throne. He asks God
to give him wisdom to rule his people. God is happy to oblige. If you read down
to verse 14, however, you’ll note there’s a catch. God will lengthen the king’s
days if Solomon will be faithful to the Law—loving God and loving others
as himself. Unfortunately, Solomon starts to believe his own press, gets hung
up on Making Israel Great, and creates a giant, expansive kingdom filled with
greed and idolatry which falls apart immediately after his death.
The wisdom of Jesus may be seeing the glory of God in the tiny
blessings, in the marginalized people, in the simple quotidian acts of decency
and kindness, and the value in humble service. Maturity in God’s reign might be
making a joyful peace with our own insignificance in the world’s estimation
while recognizing that we are pearls of great price in God’s eyes.
If you’ve found your place in God’s Kingdom, go for it. Let it grant you
contentment and peace. And thanks for looking in on me this week. I always like
it when you click on my blog, so feel free to comment.
[i] The
Qumran folks—a really ultra pious bunch back in Jesus’ day—would actually expel
you from their community if you said the name of the Creator. They were pretty
strict like that.
[ii]
If you want, you can read the sermon I wrote on this lesson the last time it
came up in the Revised Common Lectionary back in 2020. See the “Featured Post”
at the right.
[iii] Why
the compilers of the RCL married this passage to the appointed gospel is
another of the unfathomable mysteries of our faith.
[iv] 1
Kings 3:16-28
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