One of the real joys of my life, after being here so many years, is
seeing couples whose weddings I celebrated and whose babies I baptized -
and who then moved away from the area - return to the Cathedral years
later for a visit, this time with their high school or college kids in
tow. I find myself telling them, ‘you’ve got a lot to show for those
years!’
That thought came to mind when I reflected on
today’s readings from the prophet Ezekiel and from Mark’s gospel. Both
readings speak about planting and growing and bearing fruit – the role
we play in bringing that about and, more importantly, the role God
plays. Our role is not inconsequential, but God’s role is what really
counts. We get to do the planting, but God gives the growth. And it’s a
wonder to behold – a little like those kids who, when I last saw them,
were squirming and screaming at the baptismal font and who a few years
later present as pretty respectable teenagers or young adults!
A wonder to behold! We witness this wonder
regularly, don’t we? Our children grow up before our eyes even if we
don’t really see it until after it has happened.
In the two little parables from Mark’s gospel
Jesus talks about the unfolding of the Kingdom in just those terms. The
Kingdom, he says, is like a farmer who sows seed in his field and then
goes about his life – eating and working and sleeping each day. All the
while the seed is sprouting and growing, “he knows not how,” as Jesus
puts it. “First the blade, then the ear, then the full-blown grain in
the ear.” Almost before the farmer knows it, it’s harvest time.
The parable of the mustard seed gives us a
little different look at this wonderful mystery of growth. Here the
issue is not the slow, imperceptible, yet steady growth: it’s the wonder
that there is any growth at all! The mustard seed is the perfect way for
Jesus to make this point because, as he says, it is the smallest of all
seeds, so small that it would seem to have no promise at all. Yet from
tiny beginnings comes a tree with lots of leaves, big enough for birds
to find shade and make a home.
Do you have any idea how small a mustard seed
is? I’ve shared with you before how I once held a little mound of
mustard seeds in my hand. They were put there by a Franciscan friar at
the monastery high atop Mount Tabor in Galilee, the traditional site of
the Transfiguration. As we walked through the grounds, he reached up
into a tree, pulled down some seed pods, opened them, and then poured
what looked like a fine powder into my hands. He then looked at me with
delight in his eyes and said in his broken English, “mustard seeds!”
If I had sneezed the seeds would have disappeared into thin air. That’s
how tiny mustard seeds are. And yet, over time, they become little trees
with strong branches and lovely foliage.
Small beginnings, impressive results!
That’s the story of God’s Kingdom. It’s also the story of Jesus. Do you
suppose that sometimes Jesus saw himself as a mustard seed – especially
on those days when he felt inadequate for the great mission that was
his, days when he felt very small before an overwhelming task? And did
he feel the same way when he realized how unpromising were those twelve
to whom he was entrusting his gospel: that ragtag band of clumsy,
unlettered fishermen, tax collectors and sinners - full of questions,
full of doubts, dull, and so very slow to get the picture. Most of them
were cowards, too, and one turned traitor. Mustard seeds each one of
them.
And, of course, Jesus’ death made him the
ultimate mustard seed. But look at what happened to that seed after it
died and was buried in the ground….
My friends, this is the story of God’s kingdom
– a story that has been repeated down through the ages and continues in
our own: small beginnings, unimpressive beginnings, but anything but
unimpressive results. Think of the tongue-tied Moses, think of King
David, young and lustful, think of Jeremiah, young and fearful; or think
of Mary, the young maiden of Nazareth, or of Peter the fisherman. Think
of Francis of Assisi, the romantic, radical dreamer, or of Therese the
Little Flower with her “Little Way,” or Matt Talbot the reformed
alcoholic, or Solanus Casey, the humble doorkeeper, or of Mother Teresa
who, to use her words, did “small things with great love.”
Each of those unlikely stalwarts in faith prove
that the Kingdom is God’s Kingdom, not ours, and that no matter how
unpromising our efforts to build it, God can make it work. This is a
message that workaholics and perfectionists like me find it hard to
accept. We are quite sure that we are in charge and that success
ultimately depends on us! Happily, it doesn’t!
St. John XXIII, the Pope who called the Second
Vatican Council, knew only too well how painfully difficult it was to
bring about change and growth in the Church. He could well have given
into pessimism and gloom, but he didn’t. He knew the parable of the
mustard seed! Knew the history of the Church, both good and bad. Knew
how much God could accomplish with very little. And so he never lost
hope. In calling the Council, he refused to let the naysayers or the
prophets of doom have the last word, although they tried. And when he
would come to the end of a day, with a mountain of unsolved problems on
his desk and on his mind, with a prayer on his lips, he would turn off
the light and say, “It’s your Church, Lord, I’m going to sleep.”
May the Eucharist we now
celebrate keep that kind of hope alive in us!
Father Michael G. Ryan
|
|
