Mthw 13:31-33;
July 27, 2008
Ezkl 31:1-10
Patrick Preheim
Trees and Leaven
I suspect we have a few gathered this morning who routinely make their own
bread. Perhaps we could see a have show of hands of those who have made loaves
or buns sometime in the last few months. God also mixes dough, but does so at a
level well beyond most of us. The parable says that a baker woman (God) uses
three measures of flour; three measures of flour my friends, is a bushel. We
don’t normally measure flour by the bushels so let me put it into figures we
grasp more easily: that is 128 cups--6 ten pound sacks of flour-- requiring
approximately 42 cups of water which results in a dough mixture weighing some
101 pounds (Robert Capon, The Parables of the Kingdom, p118). Under the best of
circumstances the yeast in my kitchen takes several hours to do its work on two
pounds of flour. I won’t guess how long it would take a dough ball weighing 101
pounds to rise—considerably longer I would imagine. The kingdom of God is like
yeast in a batch of dough. The yeast enters with the water and is spread
throughout the 101 pounds of dough-through the world. It is one with the dough,
and yet different. It feeds off the dough, animates the dough, brings life to
the dough and transforms the dough into a state that is fit for consumption. It
is indistinguishable from the dough, and yet different. It prepares the loaf to
feed a multitude. It is a small agent which enables many to be fed even as a
small mustard tree grows to shelter many. I offer you a modern day story of
trees and yeast. It is the story of Bob Wheeler which appeared in the June 23,
2008 edition of The Christian Science Monitor.
Bob Wheeler is an ex-cop from Philadelphia who some years back decided to make a
difference in the neighbourhood where he grew up. Juniata is a working-class
North Philadelphia neighbourhood of well-tended brick row houses ringed by
industrial buildings, corner stores, and aging playing fields. In 2003 a fire
destroyed the Juniata Golf clubhouse, where Wheeler was serving as club manager
in his retirement. The golf club had been declining for a number of years--the
victim of scarce funding, vandalism and neglect, and it looked like the club
might close after the fire. Bob did not want to see this pillar of his old
community close. He suspected it would take considerable time to resuscitate the
community space, but resolutely devoted his passion and gifts to the project. He
decided to put together a non-profit foundation to run the course. He solicited
contributions from people and business he had gotten to know through growing up
there and through his work on the beat. He used his personal credibility to
gather volunteers to covert the old cart barn into the new club house. He
developed a plan by which volunteers were given free rounds of golf in exchange
for clean up, improvements, and courteously marshalling non-golfers off the
course during golfing hours. It has taken five years, but the new club is just
now a few months into its first season. The last paragraph of the story on Bob
Wheeler caught my attention because it seemed to related so well to today’s
scriptures.
The course's 85-acre green space offers elbow room in a community where there is little of it. The first hole is the traditional sledding hill in Juniata, and neighbourhood kids can wander the course after golfers have finished up. Parents know that if their children go over to play or help out with work, they can expect them to be safe and supervised for five or six hours. Says the grey-haired, ruddy-faced ex-cop, who still spends his days in shorts and sneakers: "The kids need a place where they can stretch out." (“Philly’s tin-cup course” by Mary Beth Ccauley in The Christian Science Monitor, June 23, 2008; p. 20)
The Kingdom of heaven is like a tree where the birds of the air come and make
nests in its branches.
Our two parables this morning and this story about Bob Wheeler highlight several
truths about the way in which the kingdom of God works. The Kingdom of God
emerges through the mirco, not the macro. Whether true or not our text makes the
claim that the mustard seed is the smallest of all the seeds. Clearly, first
century agronomy was not as sophisticated as 21st century seed cataloguing, but
the focus is on the size of the seed rather than the genus of the seed. We have
the smallest of things which grows up to provide nesting habitat for the birds
of the air. In Ezekiel 31:6 we also have a tree providing nesting ground for the
birds of the air. In Ezekiel, however, the tree is a Cedar whose height cannot
be rivalled. It is, by Ezekiel’s vision, a great tree if not the greatest of all
trees. In Daniel 4.11-12 we hear that King Nebuchadnezzar has also dreamed of a
“great tree” which hosts the “birds of the air”. Great trees in the Old
Testament, it seems, refer to large empires. The United States with its military
bases or China with its economic influence would be considered a Cedar by Old
Testament standards. In both Daniel and Ezekiel, it should be noted, the great
trees get their tops cropped by God on account of arrogance. I think Jesus is
very much aware of the way in which great trees were portrayed in his Hebrew
canon: they are political entities which extend over and through other nations.
The great tree in our parable is really a small tree, unlike the Cedar. Both the
Cedar of the Hebrew Scriptures and the mustard tree house the birds of the air,
but they do so differently. The kingdom of God is not about arrogance,
dominance, or politics. Jesus says that God wants to protect, care for, and
minister to the birds of the world and chooses to do it through small acts
rather than power politics. A mustard seed and leaven are not exciting elements,
certainly not like a great cedar tree. You do not find shingles, furniture, or
heirloom chests made of mustard tree wood. And leaven, in fact, has very
negative connotations in the Christian scriptures. Leaven was often used “as a
metaphor for evil things...it especially symbolized corruption and uncleanness”
(Gordon Zerby, “Jesus uses the power of images” in The Mennonite, October 10,
1995; p. 12). All the New Testament usages of leaven, except this one, are
negative illustrations. It is as if Jesus is saying the kingdom of God will
emerge from the most unlikely of sources—mustard seed and leaven.
In these parables God is talking to us whether we are a Cedar or a mustard tree;
leavened or unleavened bread. The challenge for the mustard seeds among us is to
see our potential. Too many of us view ourselves as too old, too young, too
inexperienced, too flawed, too this or too that to be an effective agent in
God’s ministry to the world. We view ourselves negatively, like leaven, or as
barren earth with only tiny unimportant seeds. But Jesus says there is meaning
for those who feel small. There is purpose in this world for those who feel on
the margins. Jesus gives us purpose and meaning. Each of us, even the tiny and
the leaven, has the potential and calling to protect, care for, to feed the
birds of the world. This is good news. God wants to work the kingdom through us
even when we feel badly about ourselves. I have poem illustrating the power of
smallness. I find it a comfort those days I identify with the smallness of a
mustard seed or the unappreciated status of leaven. This poem authored by Jim
Moore and entitled “Against Empire”; it appears in his book called Lightening at
Dinner (p.43). Jim was a conscientious objector during the Vietnam War, and
currently teaches writing at two American colleges. .
Small Olives taste best
Small stars shine farthest
Small birds call
most sweetly. Small lives,
we are small, small lives.
Cedars, too, are created by God. They have different struggles than mustard
seeds. The spiritual challenge for the Cedars is to put away arrogance and
domineering attitudes. A few of us are actually lofty Cedars in the community,
in commerce or in an organization. There are more than a few at Nutana Park who
truly tower over large operations, estates, and departments. Large Cedars have
great potential to shelter many birds. Being a Cedar is only negative if
prestige and profit become the motivating force of the operation. We need to
care for the other trees, plants, and creatures who reside under the large
boughs. And this is more than just a good contract. Policies usually tend to
physical needs, and this is no replacement for the emotional care to the birds
that nest in the branches of the Cedar. It is the small acts of compassion to
individuals that change the heart and lives of those under our care.
My illustration of this comes from a visit I made to the “office” of someone
who attends NPMC. It is a story of a Cedar Tree demonstrating mustard tree
humility, and I use my experience with permission. I had a chance to tour the
canopy of a Nutana person who oversees many resources and people. As we moved
from area to area which this person manages we often stopped to visit with
people under his care. He knew them by name and asked about their lives in
addition to how work was progressing. Some of the workers spoke broken English
and yet their supervisor listened and connected with them. They were, so to
speak, birds from around the world nesting in his branches. He shared with me
about the vehicles and bicycles the company has helped purchase for some of the
employees. In an expansion of their current facilities the company wants to
include a board room which community organizations, educational groups from
school, or youth groups can use free of charge. Business, it seemed, was not
getting in the way of Christian business. Cedars are capable of acting like
mustard seeds.
My final word this morning is actually another parable. A number of weeks ago
Joel Enns (who is not here this morning) had a small art show with others in his
class at the U of Sask. As part of their training in land management his teacher
took the class to Emma Lake and made them sketch various aspects of the
landscape. The teacher wants them to pay attention to what the land is saying.
Drawing makes a person slow down, focus, and think. Joel’s reflections on the
trembling aspen is a contemporary mustard seed parable and highlights the
opportunities we all have to translate the parables into our own experience. He
kindly forwarded his thoughts to me to share.
“All of us have experienced the summer snow produced by poplar trees as they
release those little specks of white fluff which blow around with the wind, but
have you ever looked carefully enough to see the tiny seed inside. The seed is
so small and fragile that almost none of these seeds will live. In fact it may
be years, decades or even centuries between times when conditions are right for
a seed to germinate. However once a single, solitary, minuscule seed begins to
grow, the world can be forever changed.
The Trembling aspen grows quickly from seedling to maturity but still it may seem rather small and insignificant when compared to the trees around it. At the very least it is unimpressive. This single tree will never be the biggest or the longest lived but that is only at first glance. Under the ground the tree begins to send out roots away from its stem both soaking up water and nutrients and also looking to expand. Along the length of each root new shoots begin to develop and if there is enough sunlight available new stems begin to grow. These new stems require more water and nutrients and so the roots push out further and with them more and more stems begin to grow. Even though these stems may have grown for up to a hundred years or more and appear to be separate trees, they all stay connected in the soil by their roots, transferring water and nutrients from tree to tree, nourishing all to sustain the young and the old. Each new stem is a copy of the original stem. Though stems may look slightly different from one another, each is genetically identical and all the stems act in unison.
As aspen spread they can quickly become the dominant species in a forest, yet
they are constructed in such a way that other species are encouraged to live
alongside and underneath them. Whereas many trees aim to soak up as much sun as
possible to both nourish the tree and also kill off any competitors, aspen have
a specially designed leaf which allows it to flutter in the wind and this
fluttering lets light down to the plants below. Light is given, not to young
aspen but to shrubs, forbs and grasses, all competing for the same essential
resources.
Death is inevitable and after eighty years of growth a stem becomes old. Its
growth slows and the wood weakens and begins to fall apart. Death can also come
violently. People and fire can quickly consume everything in their paths. Yet,
this is not the end, for with each death the hormones in the roots shift and
encourage new shoots to grow into the spaces left by the deceased. And so, life
for the tree continues well beyond the age of any individual stem...Yes, I would
dare to step away from the mustard seed and say that the kingdom of God is like
a Trembling aspen.”
Some of us are Cedars. Some of us are mustard trees. Some of us are trembling
aspens. May we recognize that we have been created and sustained by God. May we
understand the grace and teaching offered us in Christ Jesus. May we, in turn,
extend grace and refuge to those who inhabit this world with us. As a response
please turn to HWB #117 “Fairest Lord Jesus”. Please stand if you are able.
Amen.