It could be about the garden

There’s always more than one perspective. As we move forward towards the post-pandemic world, we’ll need to remember that living into the love that’s in all of us requires nurture and care and a little work. Or a lot.

Jesus told some people a parable.

A wise old woman looked out her window one day. She looked up at the sun and down at the earth and she looked at her calendar and her clock and she said to herself, “it’s time.” 

She picked up a large bag full of seeds and …

“Hang on a minute,” someone interrupted. “We’ve heard this one before. You told it last week. The seeds are God’s love and they’re scattered generously everywhere for everyone.” There were nods and murmurs of agreement. “Tell us a new one, Jesus.”

“But I am,” replied Jesus. “This story isn’t about the seed. Listen.”

She stepped out her back door and she began tossing the seeds to the earth, spreading them out as far as she could.

Some of the seeds landed on the path from her door. She remembered digging out the ground and putting in the nice, flat stones to make the path. The old woman smiled to see the birds enjoying their meal.

Some of the seeds landed on rocks. The wind and the rain had worn the rocks down over the years, making smooth little pockets where the seeds landed. The old woman smiled when the seeds sprang quickly to life, then just as quickly faded away.

Some of the seeds landed among weeds. The old woman picked some dandelion leaves and chickweed to go with her lunch. They were fresh and delicious and it cleared a little room for the seeds to grow.

Some of the seeds landed in the good soil. “Good soil,” laughed the old woman. It hadn’t been much before she started to take care of it, digging up the garden bed, tilling the soil, adding healthy compost and watering. She even put up a little fence to keep out the animals while things grew. And she checked every day, and talked kindly to the little seedlings as they grew, wishing them sunlight and rain. It wasn’t long before there was a beautiful garden, thriving under her care and nurture.

Jesus looked at the crowd. “How does your garden grow?” he asked.

There was silence and more than a few frowns and looks of confusion. “So we’re supposed to be good soil?” said someone. 

“You’re supposed to be who you are,” said Jesus. “We’re all different and we’re all just meant to be who we are. We’re valuable to creation just as we are, that’s part of the great wonder and variety.

“See, we’re just like the garden. We need to grow, to flourish, to be more fully who we are. That means we need work, we need feeding and nurturing, we need to stand in the sun and sit in the earth. The world around us affects how we are and what we’re like, too. And we grow together, in relationship with all things. 

“Everything comes from the earth and the earth needs our help and care, just like we do, ourselves. Love is in all things and it grows and brings life when we’re open to it, we nurture it and we care for it. So. How does your garden grow?”

It could be about the gardener

As we find our way forward from the pandemic, with other challenges, old and new, to face, we might want to reflect on a parable Jesus told some people. A parable that went something like this. Mostly.

A wise old woman looked out her window one day. She looked up at the sun and down at the earth and she looked at her calendar and her clock and she said to herself, “it’s time.” 

She picked up a large bag full of seeds and threw it over her shoulder. She stepped out her back door and she began tossing the seed to the earth, spreading them out as far as she could. And, when her bag was empty, she went back in the house and watched out the window, waiting.

Some of the seeds landed on the path from her door. She stepped on a few and some were eaten by the hungry birds that followed her. Some of the seeds landed on rocks, where the birds didn’t see them. The sun was warm and the seeds sprang to life. But there was no water there, so they just shrivelled up. Some of the seeds landed among weeds. There were dandelions and crab grass and chickweed and thistles. The weeds did very well and it wasn’t long before they overwhelmed the little seeds. Some of the seeds landed in the good soil. It was warm and wet and full of good things seeds need to grow. And they did, making a beautiful garden of the brightest flowers and the greenest leaves.

Jesus paused for a moment. The people were looking at him very confused. A couple were smiling, trying hard not to laugh. “What’s so funny?” Jesus asked.

“Well,” said one, “I’m not much of a gardener, but even I know that’s a lot of wasted seed.” 

“Yeah,” said another, “I have a bit of garden at my house and I would be a lot more careful where I planted the seeds. If you want things to grow, you have to be careful where you plant them. This woman is anything but wise.” There were nods of agreement all round. Except for Jesus.

“Perhaps,” said Jesus. “But the seed that fell on the path fed the birds. The seed that fell on the rocks might be caught by the wind and planted elsewhere. Or, over time, perhaps enough will land there to make a little pocket of soil on the rock and start to wear it down. And the seeds in the weeds, well, what is a weed anyway? Sometimes they’re important, too. Besides, one or two might be strong enough to grow with the weeds, who knows?”

“Yes,” said someone, “who knows, Jesus.” Another said, “you have to invest in the best location. You have to plant where you know the seed will grow.” There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

“But,” said Jesus. “Imagine the seeds are God’s love. God invests in the certainty that all creation is deserving of love, just as it is. When we live God’s love in the world, each seed is like an act of love offered by you. The point is that it’s offered, with generosity and without conditions. Wherever it lands it has the hope of doing good, of growing more love and more generosity. Imagine, just imagine how full and beautiful the garden of earth would be, if we all offered love with the generosity of this wise old gardener.”

It's a Metaphor

There are stories we need to hear right now. To listen, we need to let down the walls we’ve built and discard the things that keep us apart. That’s a tall order. It begins with paying attention to how we are all connected. Here’s a story about Moses, who began with letting go the simplest thing.

Moses was taking care of his sheep near the mountain. It was a bright sunny day, but out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something even brighter and shinier that grabbed his attention.

He decided to investigate and, as he got closer, he could see that it was a bush. The bush was on fire, but it wasn’t being burned up. It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen. He thought he should find out more and, as he stepped towards it, he thought he heard something. It sounded like a voice, very far away, but he couldn’t be sure, it was so hard to hear. It seemed to be yelling something, but he could barely make it out. He leaned closer to the bush.

“Moses, take off your shoes,” he thought it said, “you’re standing …” He couldn’t make out the rest.

“I can’t hear you,” Moses shouted back, “can you speak up.”

The voice tried again “Take off your shoes. You’re standing on holy ground.” It was barely a whisper, but he thought that’s what it said.

“I don’t know who you are, but I don’t hear with my feet, I hear with my ears and right now I can’t hear you. Speak louder.”

“Trust me,” the voice said, still a distant whisper, “take off your shoes.”

“Fine” said Moses, and slipped out  of his shoes. “But I don’t see how that’s going to help.”

“Can you hear me now?” Suddenly the voice was crystal clear and so loud, it made Moses jump.

“What the … who is this? Where are you?” he demanded.

“It’s God, Moses,” the voice answered, as if from the bush itself, but also, it seemed, everywhere. “I’ve been trying to reach you for some time, but you haven’t heard me. I had to light up the bush to get your attention. I need you to do something.”

“What? But …” stammered Moses, “if you’re God, why couldn’t I hear you?”

“Your shoes, Moses,” said God. “Your shoes. The ground isn’t just holy right here, it’s holy everywhere because I am everywhere. You put something between me and you and it blocks you from hearing me. You disconnect yourself from the earth and you disconnect from me. You might as well have built a wall.”

“But the shoes protect my feet,” said Moses. “And besides, don’t you speak through prophets and priests and holy people?”

Moses heard a very clear and long sigh that seemed to surround him. “Oh Moses,” said God. “I speak through all people and all things because I am in all. My love is in all creation, in the earth, in you, in all people. When you try so hard to protect yourself, you are simply disconnecting from my love. Listen, not only to the people around you, but the world around you. Open your ears, open your mind, open your heart. Don’t be afraid.”

“But I don’t know where to begin,” said Moses quietly.

“You just did,” said God. “You took off your shoes.”

Please be Jesus

It’s easy enough to point to the moments when being the church has most definitely not meant being Jesus. I don’t mean to lay them all out here, or debate them. There’s no room for that. Nor should it be necessary.

It would be easy, too, to suggest that religion, as a structure, and the institutionalization of that structure are contributing factors to the manner in which power has been wielded, over and against people. Easier still to say that’s history and we need to move forward.

Except it’s not all history, it’s now. And even if it were, it’s a legacy which is ours now and what we do with it is our life and our legacy for the future.

You’ve likely heard all this before. I’m not saying anything new, just saying it again. And again.

Among all the pictures you might find framed or posted on a wall in a church, especially in a church school room, you’re most likely to find this classic: Jesus, seated, with a child on his knee, another trying to climb up, surrounded by little children. He’ll be relaxed and smiling and, in the background, you might see a couple of disciples looking bemused or even a little annoyed.

It’s a moment referenced by Matthew, Mark and Luke. People are bringing children to Jesus to be blessed and the disciples try to stop them and send them away. Jesus is indignant (perhaps too kind a word) and tells them to let the children come. In Mark, Jesus says “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

Jesus reminds us of the openness, the wide-eyed wonder and innocence of a child. The desire to learn and grow, without preconceived ideas, prejudices or conditions. Of course, Jesus wants us to be child-like, not child-ish. That’s a challenge for life-hardened adults, as it is, but there’s more. There’s vulnerability.

We must make ourselves vulnerable, as Jesus did, in order to find empathy and connect with others. That’s not about power over others or control or fitting in or even “just getting along.” It’s about being open and available to the life and experience of others. Just. Like. Jesus.

We tell stories of Jesus as if he just lectured/preached/proclaimed and people listened and did what he said and then it’s all good. But I don’t think it happened that way. I think it happened just like the children, with openness, vulnerability and connection. And time. Jesus took the time to listen and connect. Listen first, then act.

But there’s still more here. There’s Jesus, welcoming children and blessing them, caring for them and protecting them, just as he did with all the vulnerable, weak and marginalized people he met. He met their vulnerability with his own, connected with them and valued them as the perfect child of God they are, helping them to be wholly the creation they are meant to be.

It’s not history, it’s now. Let go of the structures that disconnect us. Please be Jesus.

What if there's another perspective?

When the pandemic started, there was a saying going around, a cliché that goes “we’re all in the same boat.” Except we’re not, and it wasn’t long before someone pointed out that’s not true. It’s often attributed to a tweet from Damien Barr that’s part of a longer poem, but the popular social media meme became “we are not all in the same boat. We are all in the same storm.”

I wonder if Jesus’ disciples were thinking of that when they got stuck in a storm on the Sea of Galilee. In Mark’s account, Jesus had been talking to a crowd of people and, that evening, he gets in a boat with the disciples to cross to the other side of the lake. And there are other boats that follow with them. Tired from a long day, Jesus is asleep when the storm comes up. Fearing for their lives, the disciples wake him, he calms the storm and then says to them “why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And the disciples are amazed and wonder just who this is, that the wind and sea do what he says.

Yes, we appreciate this is a miracle story in which Jesus demonstrates his power. The disciples ask for help and Jesus rescues them. And maybe there’s another way of understanding that power, another perspective on the story.

Some of Jesus disciples are professional fishermen, this is the lake they fish. They might well have been afraid, but they would have known what to do. What if they woke Jesus because they needed help, but the help they expected was an extra pair of hands.

What if Jesus inspired them with his energy and enthusiasm and, despite his lack of skill with a boat, inspired them to ride the waves and harness the storm to drive forward for the shore on the other side.

What if their lack of faith was in themselves. Not just in their human abilities, but in the divine spirit that Jesus shows us in each of us.

What if their amazement was that Jesus, in any situation, seems to be mindful of what’s happening, what’s needed and is willing to do that.

What if the real power in this miracle isn’t Jesus’ power over nature, but Jesus’ power with the disciples to draw out the spirit within them, the very spirit that is part of our human nature, the spirit that drives our journey.

What if the people in the other boats witnessed that and followed their example, a flotilla of diverse lives navigating their own course, but empowered by the same spirit.

Isn’t that what we are?

I don’t think that “explains away” the miracle. It’s no less a miracle to know that God is present in our lives because God is within us, not just outside of us. It’s no less a miracle to see God leading us and guiding us, working within us and around us, rather than as some remote, inaccessible power that we call upon when we need. It’s no less a miracle to see this happening every day, whether the seas are rough or calm, the wind a gale or a breeze. It’s no less a miracle, it’s more. 

Bringing the Kingdom with Wonder

As they set out on their quest to rescue a princess, Shrek tries to explain to Donkey that ogres aren’t what people think. They’re like onions, he says, they have layers. Not at all impressed, Donkey points out that cakes have layers and so do parfaits and they’re so much more delicious. No, says Shrek, onions.

Jesus tells a lot of stories that are like that. Not ogres, exactly, but certainly onions. Parables are layered stories and it’s very easy to just look at the surface meaning, but there’s so much more. I think Jesus taught in parables so much because of exactly that: they’re not just to make a simple point, but to make you think, to wonder more, to look deeper.

The parable of the mustard seed’s a great example. Sure, it’s a simple story about how a tiny thing can grow into something great. That much is obvious. But that’s not the only layer. And there are many layers, of course there are, because Jesus is talking about the kingdom of God.

In the gospel of Mark, Jesus begins his ministry by proclaiming the kingdom of God is near. Then, as he travels around, he teaches people with these parables that begin “the kingdom of God is like …” And that’s how the mustard seed parable begins.

So the kingdom of God is something that starts as just a tiny seed and grows into something big, the biggest even. Sure. Layer #1. But. Here’s some more.

Layer #2: What’s the seed? Who plants it? Why? How- exactly - does it grow?

Layer #3: Why a mustard seed? It’s not the smallest of seeds, as he tells folks, it doesn’t grow into the greatest of shrubs with large branches, and birds would likely avoid it - why are you telling people that, Jesus?  Also, to most of his audience, mustard would be known as a virulent and noxious weed that’s hard to get rid of. Does Jesus not know anything about mustard? Why offer this incorrect information? Is the kingdom of God like a weed?

Layer #4: We might see “mustard” quite differently today. While wild mustard is still a serious weed problem, we also cultivate it as a spice, an oil and for it’s edible greens. Depends on your perspective: problem weed or beneficial plant?

That’s lots to think about already. And theologians and biblical scholars have lots to say about it, lots that’s valuable and helpful and we can always learn more. But: Jesus didn’t tell the parable for scholars, he told it for ordinary people. Mark makes that clear: Jesus taught the people in parables and explained in more detail to his disciples.

No, I don’t think for a moment that Jesus kept “secret knowledge” just for his closest followers, nor do I think it’s to justify the need for priests - or pharisees, scribes or other “knowledgable” religious leaders. It’s so we, ordinary people, will think about it. We might look to others for help, for their knowledge and wisdom, but we’ll still think about it for ourselves, be discerning and try to find our way through the layers and closer to the kingdom of God.

That’s the point. Jesus never clearly defines or describes the kingdom of God. Instead, he offers us a living example and a way to discover for ourselves. We each have a journey to travel and it’s best when we travel together, but it begins with peeling back the first layer.

"I wanna live like that"

For me, I think the big picture with Jesus is all about love. That verse from John that I keep repeating, “love one another as I have loved you,” is what Jesus is all about, in the big picture. The stories of his life are what illuminate that and teach us that we, too, are both divine spirit and human creation, made in the same love that is in Jesus, and capable of living that love like Jesus. That’s the point of Jesus.

It bears repeating, I think. However you know God, by whatever name, God is love. However you know Jesus, by whatever name, Jesus shows us that love is in us. However you know Spirit, by whatever name, the Spirit moves in us and through us to live that love. Yes, there’s more to it than that, that’s in the details, but, ultimately, it’s about love and love wins. Not easily, but ultimately.

We’ve struggled with love since the beginning. There’s so much that gets in the way, so many ways that seem easier, more instantly rewarding. Despite being an awesome song by the Sidewalk Prophets, “I wanna live like that” isn’t always our first inclination. In fact, we can go quite far the other way in order not to, sometimes even proclaiming that “our way” is The Way. If it’s not love, it’s not. It just isn’t. And even for the earliest followers of Jesus, who called themselves “People of The Way,” it wasn’t easy to follow through.

 

Paul writes to the community in Corinth about it. “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” (1 Cor. 13:4-8)

If those words are familiar, it may be because you’ve heard them at a wedding. 1 Corinthians 13 is the “go to” scripture reading, at least with church weddings. And that makes sense: in a moment, ideally, when we celebrate the love of two people and their commitment to each other in that love, it’s a good moment to remind everyone that love is more than romance and happiness. It’s work. Life-giving, joy-bringing work.

Except, that’s not who Paul wrote this for. He’d helped to establish a community of Jesus’ followers in Corinth - a church, if you like - and it wasn’t going well. It was a community in a city that was very cosmopolitan in it’s day, and the Jesus community would have been made up of people from different social and economic backgrounds, different cultures, different genders, different ages. There was dissension and conflict and they were having trouble loving like Jesus. So Paul wrote this description of love to help them understand want was needed. For them and us.

We could all use this reminder, daily, especially now in a world that’s fractured and broken and hurting. This is the love that listens, learns, understands and heals. This is the love that opens hearts, not only to offer love, but to welcome it, to embrace it, make room for it and be changed by it. This is the love that creates, connects and enriches our lives.