Seeds

Scripture           Mark 4:26-34

 

He also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle because the harvest has come.”

 

He also 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.”

 

With many such parables he spoke the word to them as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.

 

Sermon             “Seeds”

My garden is a mess. It’s chaos. I know the gardeners of our congregation are inviting people to see and enjoy their gorgeous, beautifully tended landscapes and backyards, and I promise, mine will never be on that tour.

 

It all started with a trellis covered with morning glories. I’ve always loved morning glories, probably because my mother, who disliked receiving flowers as a gift, nevertheless loved various flowers and was genuinely excited to see them growing. I remember her oohing and ahhing on a day trip to Cape May, when we came upon a fence covered with sky-blue morning glories. Years later I came across just such a fence on a vacation in the Berkshires, and my heart squeezed in recognition and delight. They were amazing. Their color was visual joy. Their abandon—the way they created a living wall of color—was thrilling.

 

Imagine my surprise in my adult life when I found out that there are people who hate, loathe, despise, and abominate morning glories. It’s ok. You’re looking at someone who bought her house because there was a stained-glass window and a trellis covered with morning glories. The heart wants what it wants.

 

Anyway, fast forward thirty years, and it turns out morning glories also have hearts, and they want what they want, and what they want is the entire world. The trellis long gone, I’ve cultivated them on a fence along my driveway. They cooperated at first, but then jumped to the other trellis, where the clematis were minding their own business and not hurting anybody. Then they apparently jumped right over my car and started growing on the other fence, at which point they decided their job was to make their way into and among all the other flowers—the clematis, the cosmos, the daisies, the black adder, and the peonies.

 

The kingdom of God is like a packet of morning glory seeds.

 

We are in the fourth chapter of the Gospel According to Mark this morning, and we come in just after Jesus has begun teaching with parables. Parables are stories, some as short as a sentence, some as long as three or four paragraphs. The word parable means, literally, to throw alongside. To speak in a parable is to talk about one thing by talking about another thing. You’ve thrown the one alongside the other, as an illustration, or as an opening to a deeper understanding.

 

The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and then go about their business while the seed itself did the rest. While the planter was doing this and that, the seed would blast off and shoot up through the soil, and get longer and grow taller. All the while the planter sleeps and rises and does not a thing—not until it’s time for the harvest. Then, they move in and reap the benefits.

 

The kingdom of God is a pure gift. We do not earn it. We do not own it. God gives it to us—even gives us the capacity to plant its seeds—and then, we have no control over how it grows and flourishes.

 

That word, kingdom, sets some of our teeth on edge. Kings are interesting enough, but the implication of all that colonialism is not pleasing—especially when we see the kind of kingdom Jesus describes. And that’s the point of the word. Jesus is saying a radical thing. Think about the actual kingdom—empire—under which Jesus and his people were living. The Roman Empire was a brutal regime, determined to accumulate all land and peoples and to subdue them according to its values. Its primary value was, the emperor was a god, and anyone who dared offer an alternative to the emperor’s absolute authority was a traitor and was asking to be nailed to a cross. By contrast, the kingdom of God was about turning oneself around to embrace a life focused on love—love of God, love of neighbor, even love of self. To use the phrase “the kingdom of God” was to be fearless in the face of that kind of oppressive threat.

 

The kingdom of God is like seeds someone sowed, and they went and grew without need for anyone to do much of anything. The kingdom of God is a pure gift. We can choose to be part of it. We can choose to be sowers. But its growth is all God’s doing.

 

We can drop seeds, so many kinds of seeds. Kindness is a seed—this is where the kin-dom of God comes in. The words “kind” and “kin” are from the same root: to be kind is to treat people like kin. Ada Maria Asasi-Diaz, a ground-breaking Christian educator, introduced the word “kin-dom” as a possible substitute for “kingdom” as a way of reminding us exactly what Jesus’ announced kingdom was all about: Love. Kindness. Both words are important, and valuable. Jesus’ use of kingdom was an important, radical offering for his day. Kin-dom is what we seem to need most right now, in our day: a reminder that to follow Jesus is to love, not control.

 

Generosity is a seed: it can beget gratitude, but more importantly, it can beget more generosity. Other seeds include love, joy, peace, patience, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Look at that. This is a list of the fruits of the Spirit, which can be found in the fifth chapter of the letter to the Galatians (5:22-23), are also seeds. Makes sense. All fruits have seeds. We can drop them anywhere and everywhere, and we can go on our merry way, and not worry about their growth. They will sprout. They will grow. Our entire society will reap the harvest.

 

Our second parable, the much more famous one, shows us a Jesus who is having a little fun. The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which is a little, tiny seed. But when it sprouts and grows, it becomes the greatest of all…. shrubs! Couple of feet tall at most. Matthew and Luke retell this one and make it more impressive—they say  it grows into a great tree. Aside from being wrong, they’re missing the point. The Greek word is actually “vegetable.” The kingdom of God is like a prize zucchini! Imagine the looks on the faces of the crowd. But that’s how the kingdom—the kin-dom—starts. Small. Unimpressive. But even at that vegetable state, it has branches, plenty of branches, space, room for the birds. We’re the birds. The kin-dom of God creates a lush if modest nest for us, a place we can call home. Then, any growth that comes—that’s in God’s hands.

 

A few more words about seeds. We can plant seeds on behalf of the kin-dom. But God plants seeds, too. God can plant seeds in us in times of prayer and worship. God can plant seeds in us when we engage in the practice of looking out for God’s activity in the world. God can plant seeds in us when we engage in the practice of looking for Jesus in every face we encounter. We can meet someone and have our experience of the day transformed when we realize the image of God is gazing back at us. We can hear something, or sing something, or discover something fresh in a familiar passage of scripture that results in a seed being planted in us, and who knows how that seed might grow. But listen to that warning of Jesus—if we don’t allow God the space or time or intention to plant seeds in us, nothing will grow.

 

And finally: the seeds of Jesus’ parables were an instant connection to the people all around him—people for whom growing things was a part of their everyday lives. Even those who weren’t farmers were growing necessary plants and herbs for their food and medicine. What, I wonder, is the modern-day equivalent of seeds? The ordinary thing, the thing just about everybody has, the thing we usually need?

 

I suggested two in our call to worship.

 

The kin-dom of God is like the long-awaited letter or email, the reading of which fills you with joy.

 

The kin-dom of God is like your lost keys, returned to you by a stranger.

 

To what ordinary thing in your life would you compare the kingdom, or kin-dom of God?

 

Through what ordinary things is God speaking to you today?

 

Thanks be to God. Amen.