Sermon on July 26, 2020: 8th Sunday after Pentecost
One evening last week, I went out onto my back porch and sat by myself in the dark. It had been a long day and I was in search of some peace and quiet, which can be hard to come by when it’s a pandemic and you have little kids at home. It was about nine o’clock, and darkness had already fallen. It was breezy and pleasant, so I set my phone aside and just sat there by myself, in the dark, for an extended period of time (something I am not normally in the habit of doing). After only a few minutes, I began to realize just how much life was happening all around me that I hadn’t seen before. I watched as fireflies moved around the yard: some were floating and would light up intermittently, while others flew fast and direct and flickered continuously. I listened to the sounds of what seemed like thousands of cicadas pulsing in the trees. I felt the gentle breeze of the evening and saw the shadows of the trees swaying in the night sky. After a few flashes of lightning, a rain shower fell for a few moments before coming to an abrupt stop.
Sitting there, on my back porch, in the dark, I could see that a hidden life was happening all around me, beyond even what I was able to see or hear or feel. A whole world was there that I hadn’t been able to see until I took a moment to sit in the dark.
It’s easy to think of such a world as a lesser version of the “real” world, where people are at the center. We are used to thinking of the non-human world as a “stage” or a “background,” rather than having a drama of its own. But this way of seeing the world misses the hiddenness of its glory. Creation is far more than a stage for human actors. It existed before human beings arrived, and it will be here long after we are gone. Its life may be hidden, but it is hidden in plain sight. If you aren’t looking for it, you probably aren’t going to see it. Unless you get lucky, and something prompts you to attend to what you normally might ignore.
When Jesus told his listeners the parables of the kingdom of God, he invites them to imagine a hidden world that they have never seen before. This kingdom has a life of its own, and escapes the attention of anyone who isn’t looking for it. A mustard seed that has grown into a tree that gives shelter. A pinch of yeast that is mixed with flour. A hidden treasure that is found in a field. A merchant who discovers the finest of pearls. A net full of fish, the good separated from the bad.
Remember that the parables conceal just as they reveal. Jesus is disclosing the hidden life of the kingdom of God to his followers, and yet it still remains a mystery. As we listen to these five parables, do we really learn anything about what the kingdom of God is like? After telling the last one, Jesus asks the crowds, “Have you understood all this?” and everyone answers, “Yes.” But did they really? Did they in fact comprehend the mystery of the hiddenness of the kingdom of God?
Probably not. They probably didn’t know, and they didn’t know that they didn’t know. They were probably quite sure that they knew what it’s like to inhabit the kingdom of God.
Likewise, even now, can we say that we know as much about the kingdom of God as we think that we do? Do we attend to the life of the mustard seed, when it seems so small and insignificant? Can we perceive the almost invisible spread of God’s kingdom, any more than we can perceive the spread of yeast through flour? Are we prepared to give all that we have for the gospel of Jesus Christ, as though it were a treasure hidden in a field, or a pearl of great price?
It’s hard to say. Christians can be just as blind as anyone to how God’s kingdom is at work within the world. Sometimes the Church can even be opposed to it. In our time, as the fires of righteous anger continue to burn in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, it is essential for Christians in this nation to be on the lookout for signs of the kingdom. To understand how God’s Spirit is at work in hidden places, and spreading in unseen ways.
The other day, my friend and local musician Shalom Mukamuri made a post on social media that speaks to this need, for the Church to see the work of the kingdom in this time. Here is what Shalom wrote:
The Church is NOT the solution. Christ is the solution. If the Church refuses to let Christ work through us in standing up for justice then Christ will work through someone else. Eventually we become so separated from Christ that we are no longer the Church but performers of empty religion … We should be warned, we should be encouraged to let go of our pride and play our part in standing up for the broken, the vulnerable and the persecuted.
I cannot say amen enough to his words. If Christians won’t let Christ work through us in standing up for justice, then Christ will work through someone else. God’s kingdom will spread, and it’s spread most often goes unseen, unnoticed. Unreported. A mustard seed is not newsworthy. It is easily missed. But its hidden life will emerge eventually, and the birds of the air will come and make nests in its branches.
How hard it is to see God’s hidden kingdom. Hard to know even how to be on the lookout for it. And whether we will understand when we have heard about it. Christians are not necessarily in a better position than others to see and to understand.
We must become trained in order to do so. We must develop certain habits of speech, and certain ways of seeing. Perhaps we will have to put ourselves in situations that cause us to see what we could not see before, like a hidden world that can only be seen in the dark. Where are the places we need to go so that the kingdom of God can be glimpsed?
May God grant us the eyes to see and the ears to hear. May we be given inquiring and discerning hearts, and the spirit to know and to love God and the kingdom which God brings into being. And may we also come to share in Christ’s heavenly kingdom.
Amen.