Rev.Debbie
Cato
Peace
Presbyterian Church
Matthew
13:31-33; 44-52
July
27, 2014
Tell
Us a Story
Good
Morning. My name is Debbie and I'm addicted to books. I am an avid
reader. I have always loved to read. I actually taught myself to
read before I started kindergarten. When I was in the 2nd
grade, they put me in a 5th
grade reading class – I think mostly because I was being rude to my
classmates because they read too slow for my liking. I was bored
with the easy books we had to read in the second grade. I had
already been getting in trouble in 1st
grade. “Run, Spot, Run.” Really?
When
I was pregnant with Jessica – my oldest daughter, some of my
friends gave me children's books for baby gifts. I actually sat in a
rocking chair and read to Jessica before she was born! I sat and
read to her when she was an infant. When she started crawling, I
could say, “Go get your fluffy squirrel book or go get “Goodnight
Moon”,” and she would crawl to the bookshelf, look through her
books, and bring the right book. And of course, I read to Tracy when
she was an infant too. I would hold Tracy in one arm and 2-year old
Jessica would sit on my lap and we would all read together. I loved
it when they learned to read and they would read to me. Or – we
would take turns reading. We are a reading family.
We
always read before bed. They smelled fresh and yummy after their
baths and we would cuddle up and read a book together. Sometimes
they wanted to hear a story. “Tell us a story, mommy.” they
would say. And so I would conjure up my imagination and tell them a
story before tucking them in for the night.
It
seems that Jesus loved to tell stories, too. Much of his teaching,
was about the Kingdom of God and he taught in the form of stories, or
parables. Parables by definition are short snipets – almost
riddles usually taken from everyday life. Parables are not
necessarily realistic. They often have elements that shock; they
frequently cause the hearer to pass judgment on the events in the
story; and they require a similar judgment about religious matters.
Often the parables require us to completely reverse the way we think.
Jesus' parables always cause us to pause. Think about it – the
despised Samaritan is a neighbor; the tax collector, not the
Pharisee, is righteous. Many times, the parables are just plain hard
to understand. They are confusing!
Scholars
don't agree on the exact number of parables in the gospels. Some say
30; some 40; some say even 65. because of different definitions of
parables. But for our needs, we can agree that when Jesus was
teaching the disciples about the Kingdom of God, he used a lot of
parables! In our passage from Matthew this morning there are 5
parables! Five parables in 12 verses! In fact – we jumped into
the middle of chapter 13 and Jesus has already told 2 parables to the
crowds!
So
now, Jesus puts before them another parable: “The
kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed
in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has
grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the
birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”
He
follows this with a story about baking bread, plowing a field,
finding pearls, and fishing. Ordinary things. Ordinary people. No
kings, military generals, princesses, or incredible adventures. I
wonder if the crowds were disappointed. Perhaps even the disciples.
Perhaps you are disappointed with Jesus' stories; with his
descriptions of the kingdom of heaven. They certainly aren’t very
exciting. Very grandiose.
We
call God “Lord” and “King.” We talk about him and think
about him as being sovereign over all the
universe; creator of all that is and was and will ever be. Jesus
Christ, God's only begotten Son and our Lord and Savior rose from the
dead and ascended and exalted in the highest heaven. And yet the
stories Jesus tells of his kingdom of that very heaven are down to
earth, literally. They are common stories about ordinary people –
a tenant farmer, a housewife, fisher-folks – doing everyday things.
This is hardly an exalted vision of God's realm.
Of
course, this is the whole point! “The kingdom of God is like”
the most common things in human life. Like Jesus himself, this
everyday world embodies the sacred meeting of divine and human; if
only we have the eyes to see and the ears to hear.1
The
grain of mustard seed – the smallest of all seeds, can grow in a
weedy patch to become the largest of all the bushes and offer shelter
to many birds. A small amount of yeast can grow flour into bread
enough to feed a town. The priceless pearl, a small thing, has value
far greater than everything we own. A great treasure, unexpectedly
found in the field of your life, will require every-thing you have.
And the full fishnet, teeming with both life and trash, will best be
sorted on shore, so bring it all in.
Each
of these tales requires everything. And yet each requires just one
thing. The price for the treasures of God is everything we have.
Everything we are. And the prize, the treasure, is only one thing –
one thing that must be seen and named and taken and prized. And none
of them would get you a round of applause in your choosing. Most of
them would get you rolled eyes, some mocking, and the name 'fool.'
After
all, who in their right mind would sell their farm for something they
found in a field? Who would be wasting all their yeast to make three
barrelsful of flour into bread for strangers? To be planting mustard
instead of fig trees or olive groves? And as for that fish net? Any
fool can see the old boots, broken bottles and other trash should be
thrown back in so you can cast your net again.
I've
continued to feel burdened by what's happening in the world. I can't
stop thinking about the children - all the innocent children. The
way they are being treated is the same as saying they are worthless;
they are just trash.
A
United Nations school in Palestine was bombed on Thursday – full of
children. Three boys in Israel were killed, just for spite, a few
weeks ago. And then a Palestinian boy was tortured and killed for
revenge. Four little Palestinian boys were bombed on a beach, in an
Israeli military operation. Collateral
damage is the military term
for this.
And
here on our own border, some 57,000 children have arrived without
parents or passports or permission to enter. They are seen as an
economic threat by many, as the enemy by some, as a humanitarian
crisis by others. One state has called up 1,000 National Guard
troops to protect their border from these intruders.
Coming
from El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras it is likely that these
intruders – these children have all been baptized, making them
brothers and sisters of every Christian in the world. Very likely,
because of their poverty, none of them has been vaccinated against
diseases. All may be malnourished. It is likely none of them speaks
more than a few words of English. I can't imagine how frightened
they must be.
A
missile ended the lives of 81 children flying in an airplane to
vacations, flying home, to see loved ones – heading somewhere good,
somewhere exciting.
In
a parable similar to the choosing-the-kingdom ones in our passage,
Jesus told one about a man who was beaten on the Jericho road. He
says that a priest and the lawyer saw a problem and a nuisance and
they both passed by without stopping. But a Samaritan, when he saw
the beaten man, saw a pearl; a treasure. And so he took everything
he had and he paid for the life of this man. Which of these men,
asks Jesus, made the right choice in the eyes of God?
The
hand of God is in this. Not a single story or teaching of Jesus,
about the kingdom or God's love, comes to my mind that excuses what
is happening around the world; what is happening to these innocent
children. Not a single story or teaching of Jesus, about the kingdom
or God's love comes to my mind that would let us say “Go away,”
to the children that are crossing our border to escape gangs and
violence and sure death.
All
the stories I hear and read, all Jesus' parables say: shelter, feed,
cherish them as prizes. Pull them all in and sort it all out later.
The stories say, “Do
not forget to welcome the stranger, for thereby some have entertained
angels.”
The stories say, “The
Children (the Meek) shall inherit the earth.”
The stories say, “Whatever
you have done for the least of these, you have done for me.”
All the stories say to make yourself available to God.2
So
what does this mean for us? How should we respond? I find myself
very overwhelmed? I feel helpless. There are so many children.
They are so far away. I don't live in the Middle East or even along
the border. The needs are so great. I haven't heard of a tangible
way to help. I pray for the children. Often and fervently. It
doesn't feel like enough.
Maybe
we can't help those children. But we can help the children that
cross our path. Here in North Eugene. We welcome middle schoolers
on Wednesday nights. We give them a safe place to gather and feel
welcome and be themselves. We hope they feel loved when they come
here. We are collecting school supplies for Spring Creek Elementary
School. We are helping children have what they need to be successful
in school; to feel good about themselves; to learn and grow. We
participate in the Snack Pack program that benefits children here
whose families struggle with hunger.
Right
now, it still doesn't feel like enough. There are children dying. I
feel desperate. My heart is burdened and breaking. I don't know
what to do. And then, as I prayed and worked on this sermon, I
remembered a story.
A
young boy is walking along a beach that is covered with starfish. As
he walks along, he picks up one starfish at a time and he tosses it
back into the ocean so that it doesn't dry out and die. He walks,
picks up a starfish, tosses it in the water and walks on. Picks up
another, tosses it in, and walks on. He continues to do this and an
old man down the beach is watching him do this. Finally, when the
young boy gets close to the old man, he says to him, “You're
never going to save all those starfish, you know. There are way to
many of them. Most of them are going to dry up and die. Why
bother?”
The young boy looks up and smiles at him and says, “ Yah,
I know. But it matters for this one.”
and he throws the starfish he's holding into the ocean.
We
can't – and we won't save everyone. In fact, God doesn't expect us
to. He does expect us to respond to the needs in front of us. I
think he wants our hearts to break over the evil and brokenness of
the world. But if we let it overwhelm us, it will paralyze us. We
won't do anything because we will think it won't make a difference.
It won't be enough. The problem is too big.
There
are needs right here in our community. Pearls and treasurers
waiting for us to discover right here; right now. God wants us to
plant the mustard seeds . As small as they might be, he will grow
the crops and reap the harvests. He wants our effort. He wants our
faithfulness. He wants our everything.
What
do Jesus' stories say? Things that most folks consider
insignificant, or even junk, are precious to God and likely to
require a lot from you and me. What pearls and treasurers are hidden
right here, waiting for you to find if you are willing to look?
Waiting for us to find if we are willing to look?
May
His Kingdom come on earth, as it is in Heaven. Amen.
1Feasting
on the Word, Year A Volume 3. Page 286.
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