Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52
In the Gospels, Jesus often speaks in parables – short, pithy stories and word-pictures that invite an act of imagination on the part of the listener. Asked any question, he’s more likely to offer a parable than ever a three-point sermon or a ten-point Powerpoint presentation. Mischievous stories are his way of drawing people out of whatever rut they are in, in what they think about God, other people, themselves and what it means to live as a child of God in the world.
He invites people to see new things, and see old things in new ways. And even when the Gospel offers “an explanation” as to “the meaning” of some parable, it’s clear the explanation doesn’t entirely match or catch the whole meaning of the parable itself. It’s really up to the listener or the reader to see where the parable leads them, when they take it seriously.
In the reading today, the Gospel writer has collected and put together a long series of different parables that Jesus offered at different times about the kingdom of heaven. It’s a dizzying list when you hear it all in one go.
But then, trying to think about the kingdom of heaven in the midst of daily life on Earth is a dizzying experience to begin with.
That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat by the lake. Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat in it, while all the people stood on the shore.
Then he told them many things in parables, saying: “A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. Whoever has ears, let them hear.”
….
He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”
He told them still another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough.”
Jesus spoke all these things to the crowd in parables; he did not say anything to them without using a parable.
…
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.
“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.
“Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away. This is how it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
"Have you understood all these things?” Jesus asked.
“Yes,” they replied.
Do they look like they understand?
Reflection
“The kingdom of heaven is like this … and like that … and like this other surprising thing.” Of all the images Jesus uses here – seed scattered willy-nilly, a tiny mustard seed that grows into a ridiculously unbelievably big tree, a bit of wild yeast, treasure found hidden in a field, one fine pearl, a net that catches all kinds of fish … is there one that speaks especially to you?
From the series of parables included in the reading, the one that caught my attention this time around is the one about some treasure found in a field, that so moves the man who finds it, that he puts it back where it was, and with joy for what he has found, goes and sells all he has, to go and buy the whole field. The whole darn field!!!
Which raises a question: why doesn’t he just put the treasure he dug up by accident in his bag, on his cart, or in his purse, and go home? Isn’t that what any normal person – what you or I, would do? Why not just count himself lucky, thank God for giving him a windfall and letting him win the lottery, and go on his way? And if he’s really religious, maybe up his tithe that year by a tenth of what the treasure is?
But no. He puts it back where he found it. Covers it over again. Then goes to sell all he has, to get enough money to buy the whole field. To get what he finds, he gives up all he has, to buy the whole field that it’s buried in.
It seems that in Jesus’ world if you want the treasure, you gotta buy the whole field. Not necessarily what most of Jesus’ listeners would have done. But then – inviting us to consider a different end to the story from the common-sense one is what the parables are all about. Because that’s what God and the kingdom of heaven seem to be about: something different from common-sense cause-and-effect.
And I wonder if this is the first thing to see in this parable. Parables, of course, never have just “one meaning” and “one explanation,” but I wonder if this parable is first of all about God, and how Jesus in his humanity experiences God in relation to this world and all life in it.
How can we deny that there is divine treasure buried deep in the life of this world? Something of the glory of God. Something of the truth of God. Something of the Word and Spirit of God buried deep in the way this world works, in the way it’s meant to be, in the way it sometimes is. We know it, Jesus knew it even more clearly, God knows it most deeply of all – that something divine is there within the world, no matter how dark and misguided the world becomes, and no matter how deeply God’s truth and God’s light get buried under the muck and mire of the way things go, the way we act, and what we make of the world.
And what Jesus says in the parable is that God’s not about to forget that and just walk away when things become a mess. Nor is God about to just dig up the good stuff out of the field, and take it home to be his and the leave the rest behind. No. As far as we know in this world, and within the boundaries of all that we are as human beings, the God Jesus knows is the kind of god who puts the treasure – the good stuff, back in the field, and then gives up all he has to buy it – to purchase it, to redeem the whole darn thing.
What on Earth can that mean?
We know what this means. In the Gospels we see what it comes to mean, in the life-on-Earth of Jesus. It means following the path towards Gethsemane, Golgotha, the tomb, and Easter morning – all of it really the grandest parable of all.
And what does it mean for us? What does it mean to believe in a God who instead of just skimming the cream off the top, takes the whole darn package? To follow a messiah who instead of just taking out of life what is good and leaving the rest, gives all he has to buy the whole darn field?
I have a couple of things to offer in response to that question of what it means to believe in that kind of God, and follow that kind of messiah.
One has to do with digging deep to remember and to honour the divine treasure at the heart of every person, no matter what the whole field of their life has become.
This week on a whim I bought a book
of blessings by John O’Donohue, titled “To Bless the Space Between Us.” I looked through the table of contents, and
one of the first blessings that caught me attention was “For the Parents of One
Who Has Committed a Crime.” I couldn’t
help but think of this week’s Gospel lesson as I read the blessing.
No one else can see beauty
In his darkened life now.
His image has closed
Like a shadow.
When people look at him,
He has become the mirror
Of the damage he has done.
But he is yours,
And you have different eyes
That hold his yesterdays
In pictures no one else remembers:
Waiting for him to be born,
Not knowing who he would be,
The moments of his childhood,
First steps, first words,
Smiles and cried,
And all the big thresholds
Of his journey since…
He is yours in a way
No words could ever tell;
And you can see through
The stranger this deed has made him
And still find the countenance of your son.
Despite all the disappointment and shame,
May you find in your belonging with him
A kind place, where your spirit will find rest.
May new words come alive between you
To build small bridges of understanding.
May that serenity lead you beyond guilt and blame
To find that bright field of the heart
Where he can come to feel your love
Until it heals whatever darkness drove him
And he can see what it is he has done
And seek forgiveness and being healing;
May this dark door open a path
That brightens constantly with new promise.
It seems to me John O’Donohue in his ministry as priest and as spiritual listener and guide, came to know very deeply what it means to buy and hold on to the whole field for the sake of the treasure buried within it.
Have any one of us not been blessed in our life by God and by others who have loved us and held on to us – the whole package of our life, in exactly that way? And are we not compelled by that knowledge, to pray for the grace to love and hold on to others in the same way when they most need it?
And then another thing: when it seems our life has become a field that’s all used up, and not good for anything anymore, maybe this parable encourages us to dig around a little bit in what’s left, to see what treasure there still is beneath the surface, that we have lost sight of or maybe just not seen yet, that makes the field of who we are still worth having and being and working on.
I know a minister whose career seems to be over. She was a good minister, did a lot of good for a lot of people in a number of churches. Very much a people person, engaging her parishioners in good projects at church, in deep conversations about their lives, and working together with them for the good of the community around them.
Now, though, she is in long-term care. Bed-limited. With a variety of injuries and physical disabilities unable to walk, unable to get out of bed on her own, unable even to feed or care for herself. And now also almost totally blind.
She wonders what good she is, and what good she can do for anyone now. She tries to engage the staff at the home in conversation about their lives, their families, their challenges, and their joys. But not many of them have time for that, or are even open to that. Plus, on her part, how do you have a meaningful conversation with someone you can’t see – when you can’t even tell their nationality, ethnic background, what they look like in any way, let alone be able to read their non-verbal communication? And on their part, how do you have a serious conversation with someone who can’t see you, and whose eyes may be facing right past you when she thinks she’s aiming them at you? The barriers and boundaries are great.
But a while ago, she realized something. That her blindness can be a door-opener. That as a blind person she has every right to say to the person in front of her, “I can’t see you; can you tell me where you’re from?” and then be able to talk with them about that and what it means to them. Or, “I can’t see; can you tell me what you’re wearing today? What colours – I’d like to be able to picture you?” and then let them self-describe. I mean, how often do you get a chance to invite someone in a non-threatening way to describe themselves to you? To self-reveal that willingly?
One day she tried this with a young PSW. Started by asking what colour she was wearing that day. Found out she was wearing dark royal blue scrubs, and that her long hair was red. It led to comments about how striking she must look. Which led to a two- or three-minute conversation between the two of them that was the longest and most personal they had had in a whole year.
There is still within this minister, buried within her very disabilities, a divinely breathed treasure of love for other people, a desire to know them and help them know themselves in new ways, and a longing to be able to serve the well-being of the community around her, whatever it is, that makes the field of her life – even such as it is – worth living and living for.
It makes me wonder if we sometimes give up on the field that we are, too readily? And not dig deep enough, or widely enough, or prayerfully enough to know the treasure still buried within it that makes being the field that we are, worthwhile?
What treasure is in you? What part of God’s Word has been sown within you, what power of God’s Spirit is alive in your spirit, what glimmer of God’s love for all the world is in your heart, that makes your life still and always part of the unfolding of the kingdom of God on Earth, when you commit yourself to it?
