16 June 2024 Pentecost 4
1 Samuel 15:34-16:13; Psalm 20; 2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 14-17; Mark 4:26-34.
Our gospel gives us a view of ‘gardening’ that would challenge the practices of most of those who ‘know gardening’. Jesus tells us two parables, in the first the gardener scatters a handful of seeds and then proceeds to ‘sleep’, leaving the seed to ‘fend for themselves’ and then when the grain is ripe he comes in and harvests it. In the second, someone sows a tiny mustard seed and it then grows into a gigantic bush which offers protection for a multitude of birds. And these two parables are to show us what the kingdom of God looks like. But they are both counter-cultural and all Jesus’ audience would probably have thought them totally silly. In essence, they tell us the kingdom of God is like a sleeping gardener, mysterious soil, an invasive weed and a nuisance flock of birds.
As anyone who has ever planted or grown anything in the garden knows, you have to constantly care for your plants. You need to ensure they have enough, but not too much water, you need to ensure they are protected from insect and grubs, and vermin if you have any. You need to fertilise, prune, and weed them. But in this parable the gardener sleeps. He doesn’t do any of the ‘normal’ things you and I do to ensure we have a good crop. He enjoys the rest that comes from leaning into the process that is ancient, mysterious. cyclical and sure. He trusts the seeds. He trusts the soil. He trusts the sun and the shade, the clouds and the rain. He does participate in the process of planting and harvesting; he pays attention to the seasons and works when the time is ripe. But he does not think that at any time he is in charge. He understands that he is operating in a realm of mystery. And this is the story of the kingdom, it is not our striving, it is not our piety, or our purity, not our prayers that cause us to grow and thrive in God’s garden. It is grace alone.
And then we come to the soil. According to this parable, the kingdom of God is fruitful, productive, and hidden, it is generous and mysterious. All the mysterious magic occurs underground, hidden from our eyes. In effect, we live in the ‘uncomfortable’ period between the planting and the harvest. We may scan the landscape, examine the garden, but we see nothing but dark earth and tender shoots. In reality, there are probably many areas of our lives where we struggle to ‘trust the soil’. Where we may ‘plant’ our prayers, but resist leaving them to germinate in God’s care. We may see our actions as ‘vigilance’ or ‘wisdom’ or even ‘caution’, but in Jesus’ gardening metaphor, it is faithlessness, and a futile attempt to ‘play God’.
In the second parable, a mustard seed is sown. Now what many of us on this side of the world may not know is that mustard was a weed, and no one ever intentionally planted it. Its tiny seeds ‘self-seeded’ with annoying regularity and anyone foolish enough to plant it would very soon find their land taken over by this noxious weed which would smother every other plant in its path. Mustard is also not a particularly beautiful or stately plant, it grows like a weed and looks like one too. So what is Jesus saying when he describes the sacred and holy as a tiny, insignificant mustard seed. What is he meaning by taking an invasive, spindly weed and making it the very heart of God’s kingdom. This parable asks us some probing questions: what and who counts in God’s economy; what is beautiful; who matters; where do we see the sacred. When we look at the life of Jesus – he himself came to earth as a tiny, forgettable ‘mustard seed’. A ‘no-where’ baby born into poverty on the edges of the empire. And those who followed him were a ‘forgettable’ bunch of fishermen and corrupt tax-collectors. They were clueless, clumsy, timid and doubtful. And yet, the kingdom of God rests on these ‘forgettable’ people.
The last image in the parables is those nesting birds who sit in the shade of the mustard plants. Sounds good, sounds innocent, but most in Jesus’ audience would agree that if you have birds residing in your garden then all the fruit and seeds in your fields are at risk from them. Birds can wreak untold damage in a cornfield, hence our habit of erecting scarecrows. But Jesus isn’t interested in or wanting scarecrows. The kingdom of God is about welcoming the unwelcome. It is about sheltering the unwanted. It is about practicing very radical inclusion. The garden of God is not there for itself, it exists to offer nourishment to everyone the world deems unworthy. Its purpose is to attract and welcome the very people we might prefer to shun, it is about hospitality not productivity.
So, let’s look at what the kingdom of God looks like. It is slow, mysterious growth; it is seasons of fallowness; it has plants we cannot control or contain; it has weeds that run wild yet still offer nourishment and protection. There are hungry, raucous birds; there are feasts that are easily mistaken for waste; and gardeners who like to take naps. And all this is good news, but it is not necessarily easy to hear news. It is difficult for many of us to let go of our own plans and our drive to always keep working, so that we can allow God’s expansive, life-changing care to take over. It is not easy to let go of our hold on everything and to trust and accept mystery; to look for God in the commonplace and to embrace the unwanted thing as beloved.
No matter what our temperament or circumstances, the challenge facing us all is to scatter seed and rest in God’s grace. We have to learn to like the weeds and allow them to become havens of rest. So the question for me today is: am I able to lean into this bizarre and laughable kingdom? Can I let go? Can I trust that the God of the incomprehensible seed is also the God of the abundant and fantastic harvest? Let us all hope to learn to do so.