“Even the Tiniest Seed”

Second Sunday after Pentecost

Sunday June 14, 2009

1 Samuel 15:34 – 16:13

Psalm 20

2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 14-17

One of the most remarkable blessings of being a part of an ancient tradition of faith is the opportunity to learn from the legacy of wisdom that comes to us from the long history of the Church.  So often, in the course of our reading and exploration of that long tradition, we come across passages or prayers or reflections filled with wonderful insights which can help us to cultivate an ever deeper perspective on life, and on faith, and on the call of compassion.

Among my favourites readings is a relatively recent reflection that is often attributed to the assassinated El Salvadoran Archbishop Oscar Romero, but which was actually written by another Catholic Archbishop, Ken Untener.  Although the passage may seem to be particularly oriented towards those of us who are engaged in active service in the church, it actually bears an important relevance in every one of our lives.  Every single one of us is a part of the priesthood of believers; and every single one of us has been called into ministry in one way or another.  This passage, therefore, has something to offer to each one of us.

Some of you may have heard it before – but it is worth repeating.

It helps now and then to step back and take the long view
The kingdom [of God] is not only beyond our efforts;

it is even beyond our vision.

 

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way
of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that can be said; no prayer fully expresses our faith;
No confession brings wholeness;

no programme accomplishes the Church’s mission;
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

That is what we are about: we plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise,
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something, and do it very well.

It may be incomplete but it is a beginning,

a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers not master builders; ministers not messiahs.

We are prophets of a future not our own.

What I love about that passage is that it offers such a wonderful invitation to all of us to try to keep some perspective on our lives and on our activities, both in the church and in the world. 

We plant seeds that one day will grow; we water seeds already planted.

Those words find a deep resonance with today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark.

Jesus said, “with what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it?  It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

The kingdom of God…is like a mustard seed.

This comparison of the coming of the kingdom of God as a tiny seed is a powerful one to ponder.

After all, we live in a world in which what are considered to be the important events, in life, are usually marked by tremendous levels of public acclaim and fanfare.  The celebration of a political election victory, or the extravagant business product launch, or the paparazzi studded celebrity event, or the throngs of crowds lined up at a demonstration or a rally or a rock concert -- these are the events that make the news; these are the experiences that promise to change the world; these are the important moments. 

Or so we think.

But Jesus’ words challenge such a perspective.  Jesus seems to suggest that the important events – the ones that lead to the coming of the kingdom of God -- may not seem quite so grand, so elaborate, so extravagant.  Rather, the arrival of God’s kingdom might better be compared to a tiny seed dropped into the ground – not a particularly noteworthy occurrence.  But, as Jesus himself reminds us, what happens because of the planting of such tiny seeds completely defies our expectations. “It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

From one tiny seed, a huge tree grows – and that tree becomes a place of refuge, a home, a sanctuary, a blessing far beyond all expectation.  The birds of the air make nests in its shade.

And it was that image that Jesus used to describe the way that the kingdom of God actually breaks into this world, and into our lives.

But what did he mean when he spoke about the ‘kingdom of God’?

It is important for us to realize that the proclamation of the coming of the kingdom of God lay at the very heart of Jesus’ mission and ministry.  It was the coming of that kingdom that he proclaimed, and most of his teachings and parables sought to offer insights into the nature and the meaning of that kingdom.  So often, we tend to think that Jesus came to proclaim himself – which, in some ways, is true – but what is more accurate to state is that Jesus’ primary declaration was that God’s kingdom had come to this world; God’s reign had broken into human history; the time had come, and people were summoned to turn back to God, to believe this good news, and to allow God’s kingdom to come in all of its fullness and in all of its wondrous glory.

But a question confronts us.  That is, what exactly do we mean when we refer to the kingdom of God? 

There are a wide number of answers to that question, and it is a question that we all do well to ponder.  After all, if we have been told, as followers of Christ, to make the seeking of the kingdom of God the first priority of our lives, then we do well to remind ourselves what it is that we are supposed to be seeking!

There are, of course, no simple or completely comprehensive answers to this question, but it is important for us to try to put, into words, what we mean.

So permit me to try.  The kingdom of God is both an internal spiritual state of being, and an external community shaped by the call of love, and rooted in communion with God and with one another. 

Internally, it is a state of joy, of peace, of holiness and of compassion that leads us into the fullness and abundance of life that God intends for us.  And, externally, it is a community in which love reigns supreme, in which justice is done, in which we live in harmony with the natural world, in which all of God’s children share equally in the gifts of this earth, in which we love one another as we love ourselves and treat one another as we would wish to be treated.  

Both internally and externally, it is a reality shaped by grace and forgiveness, in which we are no longer bound by our sins and failures, and in which we no longer keep others captive to their past mistakes; and it is a reality which is rooted in the hope-filled confidence that life, in all its fullness, does not find its culmination in mortal death, but rather in a joyful state of eternal reconciliation with God.

This is, of course, an inadequate description – but rather than ponder its inadequacies, I would invite all of us to contemplate what words we might use if asked to describe what we mean – or what we think that Christ means – by his call to life in the kingdom of God.

So how does that kingdom come to us?  When is it that we catch glimpses of it?  When is it that we come to experience that kingdom?

According to Jesus, the way that this reign of God’s love begins in our lives, the way that God’s love is revealed to us, the way that a community is formed in response to God’s call, the way that God’s kingdom breaks down our cynical defenses and enters into this world, is not in the grand spectacles and elaborate events that we tend to focus on – it is, rather, in the small and seemingly insignificant events of life.  It is in those moments which seem to be of no more consequence than the planting of a mustard seed in the ground.

The small act of unexpected kindness; the quiet word of encouragement; the tender expression of compassion; the seemingly insignificant act of love that challenges our cynicism and changes our lives.  It is the growing sense of dissatisfaction with some level of injustice, which is suddenly met by some new realization of the way to overcome that injustice.  It is the discovery the awe-some power of forgiveness; and the world –transforming power of returning good for evil.  It is the peaceful experience of communion with God and meaningful connection with another human being, when our souls suddenly seemed overwhelmed, to the point of bursting, with joy.   It is a glimpse of the wondrous beauty of the natural world when we are suddenly aware that all of existence is a blessing, a sacred gift, a celebration.   It is, as Jesus would say, these tiny seeds that, when planted in the soil of human existence, suddenly break forth into a transforming vision of life as God intends.  And we find ourselves re-turning to God, and able to believe in the good news that the kingdom of God has drawn near to us.

 
And when we consider our own lives, and our own spiritual journeys, most of us would agree that our deepest moments of insight, and our most moving experiences, have often come in those quiet moments.  We may enjoy the grand spectacles of life; but real transformation often happens in much quieter moments.

Our calling, as Christians, is to pay attention to those moments, to cherish them, to seek them, and to live our lives in such a way that others might catch a glimpse of that kingdom as well -- which means that we must, at times, go into those places where this glorious vision does not seem to be particularly evident.  Our calling, as Christians, is to enter into those places in this world where despair seems overwhelming, where the mocking taunts of death seem to reign supreme, where hatred and injustice are robbing God’s beloved children of the fullness of life – and, in those places of despair and death and hatred, plant a seed of faith; a seed of hope; a seed of love.

So how do we engage in this wondrous work?  How do we seek this kingdom?  How do we plant seeds that might grow and blossom and flourish? 

We live faithfully in the small things.  We offer to teach a Sunday School class, trusting that something that we say might be planting a seed in a child’s life that we may never realize, but which might change their lives, and this world, forever.  We offer a warm meal to a homeless person off the streets, trusting that we might just be serving Christ himself.  We prayerfully cultivate the ability to listen for the still small voice of God in the midst of life’s busyness and chaos.  We reach out to greet a visitor at church, or a stranger in our neighbourhood, trusting that God’s love can use even our feeble attempts at hospitality to build up a new way of being together in this often fragmented and fearful human community.  We take the time to visit an elderly friend, trusting that God might actually be sending us to reach into their loneliness, their confusion and their anxiety.  We set aside our ingrained prejudices and our preconceptions towards those who we have been taught to disdain or dismiss, trusting that the One who reached out to outcasts and sinners might be asking us to do the same.  We return a kind word in the midst of an angry situation, trusting that good can overcome evil and love can triumph over hatred.

In these, and in so many ways, we embrace the mysterious declaration that this world is transformed, and the kingdom of God breaks in upon us in small, tiny, seemingly insignificant ways. 

At the time, we may not always comprehend the significance of what is happening.  But we accept that, in the knowledge that, at the time, no one knew what the significance of a baby born in a cattle stall or a young man nailed to a cross was, either. 

And the actual fact is that none of us will ever fully know the meaning and consequences of the small acts of love and compassion that we seek to plant in this world.  But we accept that, in the liberating knowledge that the coming of the kingdom of God, to this world, is ultimately not our responsibility.   We do not have the power, nor the ability to make the kingdom come.  But we do have the power, and the ability, to plant those small seeds of faith, of hope and love, knowing that faithfulness to the call of Jesus Christ is demonstrated in a life in which we simply:

…plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise,
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

…

We – all of us -- are workers not master builders;

We – all of us – are ministers not messiahs.

We – all of us -- are prophets of a future not our own.