SEEDLESS WATERMELON

Sermon for November 1, 2009 by Rev. Marie Hulme Adam (Liz)

Scripture: Matthew 13: 31-34, 44-46

Summer sometimes recedes reluctantly in Virginia. I bundle my kids up for the chill one day, then scurry around the next to find those shorts I had packed away.  I am struck by how beautifully this window reflects the world outside from season to season; a few weeks ago a warm wind blew to and fro, dancing with the limbs of that tree; now those same limbs are releasing their colorful garb, readying for winter.

One feature of summer I will miss is seedless watermelon. Remember in the olden days, when watermelon required more patience?  I am astounded by how much I can eat, so effortlessly. I imagine there will come a day when people won't even recognize un-neutered watermelon. My children will tell their children, “In the olden days people had to eat watermelon loaded with hundreds of black seeds.”

Even though I remind my children, “slow and steady wins the race,” they are accustomed to living in a fast-paced, seedless watermelon world.  Even my childhood memory of Superman might now be rendered obsolete by the children of today. Remember what they said about Superman: “Faster than a speeding bullet, ....” But those are out-dated metaphors; the prowess of Superman might need an upgrade, like, “Faster than 16 gigahurts, more powerful than an aircraft carrier with an nuclear reactor, able to cross three time-zones in a single bound.”  

There does seem to be an assumption that quicker is better. Quicker information, quicker eating, quicker learning, quicker access to whatever fancies us. 

A book came out a few years ago entitled, In Praise of Slowness, Challenging the Cult of Speed .  The author tells the story of a time he was rushing about as usual, trying to capitalize on every minute of the day. He was at the airport in Rome, waiting for his flight back to London, talking to his editor on his cell phone. He describes himself as wired and harried, a scrooge with a stopwatch, obsessed with saving every last scrap if time, a minute here, a few seconds there. As such, while on the computer and on the phone, to make his time even more “productive” he started skimming a newspaper. The headline caught his eye: “The One-Minute Bedtime Story.”   The article was about a volume in which classic children's books are condensed down to 60 seconds. Eureka, he thought to himself. As the father of a two-year-old, he saw the book as a great bedtime time-saver. As he started making a mental note to order the book as soon as he got home, he suddenly found himself thinking: "Have I gone completely insane?” The experience prompted a book about slowing down, a how-to.

His story reminds me of my own feverish compulsion to get the most for less, to do as much as possible in a given moment. So I say with delight and celebration how nourishing it is to drop my kids off downstairs, and witness how the Sunday school here, under Peg's direction, serves as an antidote to the fast-paced, over-stimulating environment that surrounds them.  

I was struck the first time I experienced the children waiting patiently to be received by their teachers and door keepers. The quiet and measured way the hour unfolds, the respect for silences, the invitation for spirit to move. Our children are served well here at Sojourners, by what is shared and what is left unsaid, in the spaces and pauses, in the deliberate attention to that which exceeds all our plans and goals and expectations – the living Lord.

When our lives are punctuated by all things fast, efficient and convenient, sometimes, we get to thinking that there may just be some kind of fast track toward enlightenment. If I read these books, if I meditate and do good deeds...   Sometimes in the church people are tempted to think truth and salvation come to us in an obvious way, if or when we have the right formula, the right moment of recognition, or declaration of loyalty.  But the path to spiritual maturity is not quick, nor is it easy or obvious. In fact, according to the writers of the Gospels, Jesus conveyed his entire message cryptically, indirectly, and mysteriously. Jesus, contrary to expectations then and now, did not come right out and spell it out for us. Instead, he spoke in parable.

The Scripture reading for today from Matthew reminds us that Jesus didn't tell his disciples anything without using a parable.

The meaning behind the words of Jesus, his message really, is hidden. The kingdom of God he came to inaugurate and describe is quite beyond our ability to see, at first glance. It is something that must be sought out, something that remains elusive. Like a parable.

I was having dinner with an elder of a church I served a few years ago, and he brought up the subject of Scripture, as if all ministers, when they go out socially just can't wait to be asked something about the Bible. He asked, “Don't we Presbyterians believe that Scripture is God's exclusive Word?”

I think he wanted from me a quick response, to tie it all up and make it plain but I couldn't, and I can't.  So I said something like this: “Why didn't Jesus just write everything down for us? Make it really clear to us so there would be no confusion among his followers and  his detractors.  Why not give us 10 or 12 steps, why not spell it out, for goodness sake. He could have, I suppose, the savior of the world, but he didn't. He didn't write anything down. No information except what others had to say ABOUT him. I bet even if he wrote something down we'd fight over it anyway; and he knew it.

Why  did Jesus speak to us so cryptically, in an oral form that would have to be written down decades later?  Didn't you know we'd want to know, detail by detail, what you meant, and how it relates to us and what we should do about it? Just give me a seedless watermelon Gospel.  Just tell me what to think, and do, and be.

But Jesus doesn't do that. He asks us to take a journey, to listen, to be open to a new way of seeing.  

Brian McLaren is a writer, a former English professor turned pastor, and in his book The Secret Message of Jesus he creates a modern version of someone approaching Jesus about the kingdom of heaven.

A reporter for a local news station has heard a fuss about this guy Jesus and wants a good sound bite for the evening news.  He says, “Jesus, we have 30 seconds before the commercial break. Can you tell us in a sentence or two what your message is about?”

The modern Jesus might reply: “Everyone needs to rethink their lives as individuals, and we need to rethink our direction as a culture and imagine an unimagined future for our world. Because the kingdom of God is here. You can count on this.”

The reporter gets a little impatient, “Well, yes. And how exactly would you define the kingdom of God ?  We have fifteen seconds.”

True to form Jesus would use a parable: “Well, the kingdom of God is like a man who had two sons...” But he wouldn't get a chance to finish.  So after the commercial break the reporter presses him, impetuously. “Can you define for our audience this kingdom of God you talk about?”

“It's like a woman who was making bread...”

“Uh, no,” the reporter interrupts, “I don't want to know what it's LIKE. I want to know what it IS.”

Jesus smiles and continues, “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field.”

Like it or not, this was the way Jesus chose to convey his central message.  His central message was the kingdom of heaven, and he explained it by way of story and mystery and surprise.  Each parable from chapter 13 of Matthew involves a hidden-ness that eventually becomes visible -- a seed buried and concealed; weeds, hidden alongside the wheat; yeast, hidden in dough, an exceptional pearl hidden among average ones, a treasure hidden in a field.

These images and descriptions draw us in, and make us think more deeply. But not only that, not only are we encouraged to think -- these parables remind us that the kingdom involves an EXPERIENCE, just as the characters in the parables have an EXPERIENCE. The woman put her hands in the dough.  The one who found a treasure had to DIG in the earth and go sell all his possessions.  This is the hard part. This is the time-consuming part. It is intimate and risky. That might be why he said the laborers are few.

The kingdom of heaven is hidden in the ordinary things of this world -- like bread, wine.  Hidden. Requiring a search, requiring a movement, requiring a re-thinking. The ordinary things of this world aren't the kingdom, but they can point us to it. When we look and search for the eternal element in all of life, when what is hidden is revealed to us, we get a taste of the eternal. 

All of life contains the truth, beauty and goodness of our Lord, we just need time to develop the eyes to see. When we do - when we see the beauty of that falling leaf, when we see the goodness inherent in the least of these - the poor, the imprisoned, the disabled, we experience our living Lord.  And the more we search, instead of define, and argue, and draw lines, the more we realize we are the imprisoned, the disabled, the blind.  By saying you are Sojourners, you are saying that you haven't arrived, you don't have it all figured out, neat and tidy. There are blind spots, and areas where we continue to be trapped in old ways.

Most Christians identify Jesus as the pearl, that we are looking for him, which I would accept. The deeper mystery may be that the Jesus ultimately leads us to see that we too are the pearl, only we don't know it yet. That is why we are here, to find out, but it will take some doing.  It will take some time. It will take eyes to see and ears to hear.   

Marie Hulme Adam

November 1 , 2009

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