Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come see the daffodils before they are over.”  I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead.  “I will come next Tuesday,” I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.  Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy.  Still, I had promised, and so I drove there.  When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren, I said, “Forget the daffodils, Carolyn!  The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in this world except you and these children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!”  My daughter smiled calmly and said, “We drive in this all the time, Mother.”  Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears, and then I’m heading for home!”  I assured her.  “I was hoping you’d take me over to the garage to pick up my car.”  “How far will we have to drive?”  “Just a few blocks,” Carolyn said.  “I’ll drive.  I’m used to this.”  After several minutes, I had to ask, “Where are we going?  This isn’t the way to the garage!”  “We’re going to my garage the long way,” Carolyn smiled, “by way of the daffodils.”  “Carolyn,” I said sternly, “please turn around.” “It’s all right, Mother, I promise.  You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience.”  After about twenty minutes, we turned into a small gravel road and saw a small church.  On the far side of the church, I saw a hand-lettered sign that read, “Daffodil Garden.”  We got out of the car and each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path.  Then, we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped.  Before me lay the most glorious sight.  It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes.  The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns… great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow.  Each different-colored variety was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue.  There were five acres of flowers.  “But who has done this?” I asked Carolyn.  “It’s just one woman,” Carolyn answered.  “She lives on the property.  That’s her home.”  Carolyn pointed to a well kept A frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory.  We walked up to the house.  On the patio, we saw a poster.  “Answers to the Questions I know You Are Asking” was the headline.  The first answer was a simple one.  “50,000 bulbs,” it read.  The second answer was, “One at a time, by one woman.  Two hands, two feet, and very little brain.”  The third answer was, “Began in 1958.”  There it was, The Daffodil Principle.  For me that moment was a life-changing experience.

I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun one bulb at a time-to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top.  Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world.  This unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived.  She had created something of indescribable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration.  That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time … often just one baby-step at a time… and learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.  When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things.  We can change the world.

“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn.  “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago, and had worked away at ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years?  Just think what I might have been able to achieve!”  My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way.

“Start tomorrow,” she said.

Author Unknown

In our Gospel reading this morning, we hear five of the parables that are contained in what Biblical scholars call “Matthew’s Third Discourse,” which comprises all of Chapter 13 of the Gospel of Matthew and includes seven parables about the Kingdom of heaven.  If we think back to two weeks ago—just to refresh our memory—the Gospel dealt with the parable of good seeds producing different yields, depending upon where they are planted.  Last Sunday, we heard the parable of the field in which weeds were sown among good seed.  While none of us present this morning is a Biblical scholar, I thought it might be interesting for us to take a closer look at what a parable is, and then consider what Jesus might be telling when He likens the Kingdom of heaven to a mustard seed.

In preparing for today’s sermon, I was struck by the thought of what a tremendous gift the Bible is.  If the writers had not written it, we would have no record of God’s actions and Jesus’ teachings.  Writing things down is very important, which reminds me of the story about an elderly couple in their 90s who were having trouble remembering things.  They went to their doctor for a check-up, and the doctor told them that they were physically okay, but that they might want to start writing things down to help them remember.  That night, while watching TV, the husband gets up from his chair.  His wife asks, “Where are you going,?” to which her husband replies, “to the kitchen.”   “Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?”  “Sure,” he says.   She then says, “Don’t you think you should write it down so you can remember it?”  “No, of course not.”  “Well,” she says, “I’d like some strawberries on top, too.  You’d better write it down because you know you’ll forget it.”  He says, “I can remember that!  You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries.”  She then says, “I’d also like whipped cream.  I know you’ll forget that, so you’d better write it down.”  By now he was irritated.  He says, “I don’t need to write it down.  I can remember it.  Leave me alone!  You want ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream—I got it, for goodness sake!”  Then he grumbles off to the kitchen.  After about 20 minutes the husband returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs.  She stares at the plate for a moment, then says, “Where’s my toast?” Write it down.  Write it down!  Thank God for the people who wrote down the parables of Jesus!

So… what is a parable?  Simply put, a parable is a word-picture that compares something familiar with something unfamiliar in order to bring home a truth.  A parable creates an understanding of the unknown by using the known.  The writer, Lane Denson, describes a parable as “a small story with a large point.”  He goes on to say, “Like jokes and jazz, if you’ve got to have a parable explained, don’t bother.  Parables are not to be explained, they are to be understood, and like most of the important things in life, they are understood only by opening ourselves to them and listening with wonder and imagination, and, in a way, participating in them.”

Over a third of the Synoptic Gospels—that is, Matthew, Mark, and Luke—contain parables told by Jesus.  In fact, this was Jesus’ most common way of teaching, and he was a master of the parable.  His parables featured images from daily life in ancient Palestine, such as mustard seeds and fig trees, wineskins and oil lamps, money and treasure, stewards, workers, judges, housewives, and wedding parties, to name but a few.  It seems to me that Jesus loved to use parables to reach the hearts of his listeners through their imaginations.  Like a skillful artist, Jesus painted evocative pictures with short and simple words and images.  It has been said that a picture is worth a thousand words, and I sometimes marvel at the way that Jesus, through his parables, was able to create picture after picture of what God, and God’s Kingdom, is like.  He used the ordinary to point to another reality, hidden and intangible, yet visible and comprehensible to those who had “eyes to see” and “ears to hear.”

How is it that ordinary, everyday images such as the ones we hear in today’s Gospel—a tiny mustard seed, yeast in flour, hidden treasure, a pearl of great value, and a fishing net—can capture and convey timeless and extraordinary truths?  Or put in another way, how is it that, on July 27, 2008, we can hear this Gospel and learn something about the Kingdom of God?  I think that the answer can be found in what parables do, which is capture our imagination and entice us, as it were, to find the meaning in them for us, at this moment in history and at this point in the evolution of God’s Kingdom.  In that sense, parables become verbal bridges that we can use to cross from the world of material reality into the life-giving realm of the Father.  And in that crossing over, we come to see that the Kingdom of God is the Real World, distinct from the “real world” proclaimed by those who live not by faith but by sight.

The parable of the mustard seed is a sometimes called a preacher’s dream because, if you take it literally, it seems to summarize the whole Christian enterprise.  From that one-sentence parable have sprung countless sermons, with themes that include the following: From small beginnings you can change the world.  A handful of disciples becomes a global movement.  Your faith may be weak, but it can grow strong enough to move mountains.  It starts with a little seed, but just watch it and it will grow into a tree.  The parable of the mustard seed has built impressive churches, conquered new lands and converted the heathen.  All from one little seed that would take a thousand of them to fill a thimble!

The problem with mustard, however, is that it’s a weed!!  Would anybody in their right mind plant weeds?  If weeds invade our gardens, or our lawns, we want them taken out.  Weeds are not popular; you won’t find them for sale in the garden department at Home Depot.  And it was the same in ancient Palestine.  Mustard seeds were banned from planted gardens.  Contained in the Jewish Mishna—a compilation of instructions for carrying out the laws of the Torah—is a prohibition against planting mustard seeds because they are annoying, useless weeds. 

So how can Jesus be telling us, “the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field”?  No one plants weeds unless, of course, unless the gardener is God.  It seems that, in this parable, Jesus is casting aside conventional wisdom and telling us a truth about weeds, keeping in mind, of course, that the real focus of the stories and parables that Jesus told is about us:  weeds have the same God-given potential for growth as good seed.  If we really look at a weed, not through the mindset that weeds are the bane of a good garden, but through the eyes of God, we see that they have their own beauty, their own strength, their own dignity.  And that, like good seed, they have worth.

So…who are the “weeds” of today’s world?  Among them might be the homeless, the aged, the HIV patient, the addict, or the scraggly man sitting at the end of an I-75 exit ramp with a handmade sign that says he will work for food.  Our culture might call them losers, but they are precisely the kind of people who Jesus would have us reach out to, just as He reaches out to us in our brokenness, our “lostness,” our pride, our spiritual poverty.  Through us, He can be a healing presence to the to the teenager flunking out of school, to the couple going through a bitter divorce, to the debt-ridden single mom who just had to declare bankruptcy, to the failed professional taking the first steps toward recovery after hitting bottom.  It is to these that Jesus would have us minister.

In a way, all of us are mustard seeds, cast into the field of faith, where the poor are rich, where those who mourn are comforted, where those who hunger and thirst for justice are satisfied, where all of God’s children, every one of them, gather and know that they are infinitely loved, and where the birds of the air and you and I find a home where no one is a stranger.  That is what the kingdom of heaven is like.     

They also practiced it in the way they treated each other. To the slave who was considered as nothing, they said, "Welcome. You are an equal here." To the tax collector, despised and wretched (often because of their own doing), they said. "Come, worship here with us. We have seen the Lord and He has risen." And yes, it is true, to women who were treated by men as property, they said, "You are equal here." Practicing the Resurrection.

To the outcasts and the lepers whose bodies were riddled with stench, and whose maladies were said to be the result of their sin, the early Church said, "We don't care, let us clean you up." When one of their members was jailed, they sang hymns to the jailors, often converting them. If some of their members were sick, they laid hands upon them knowing God would heal them. If rebuke was necessary, it was done in a care-fronting way. After all, the goal is Resurrection, not condemnation. Practicing the Resurrection.

What I believe we need today (because in our society it is sorely lacking) are Resurrection practices: ways of behaving with one another, on a personal level, that build up and do not tear down. Why is it that most of us hear that we are lacking and because we are we are less than OK? It is true, there is always something we need to lift up to God for healing (which is in itself a practice of Resurrection). Is it not true that much of modern culture belittles us (which is a practice of death). "If only you had . . . . .. If only you joined . . . . . If only you used . . . . . If only you hung with . . ." You get the picture.

Folks, on this Easter tide, let me remind you. God sent His only Son to restore the Original Blessing we ALL walk away from by the choices we are given the freedom to make. The Church of Jesus Christ, when it practices that which it was created to do, that which is its core value, practicing the Resurrection, and does it in a way that speaks the common language in a common idiom, the world will become a better place.

Happy Easter,

Ev

(I thank Diana Butler-Bass, professor at Virginia Seminary, for the germ of these thoughts that I hold to be of great worth in our future walk as a congregation)

Donald, the third son, said, "I've got both of you beat.  Remember how much Mom enjoyed reading her Bible?  You know she can't see very well anymore.  Well, I found a most remarkable parrot that can recite the entire Bible.  It took twelve years to train it, and a fortune to buy it, but with all the money that I have, I felt that Mom was worth it.  The parrot is one of a kind, and all Mom has to do is name the chapter and verse, and the parrot recites it."  Soon thereafter, Mom sent out her thank-you notes.  "Milton," she wrote to her oldest son, "the house you built for me is so huge. I really live in only one room of it, and to tell you the truth, it's too big for me."  Her note to Gerald read:  "I am too old to travel much anymore.  My eyesight isn't what it used to be.  I stay at home most of the time, so I rarely use the Mercedes.  And, by the way, the driver is rude!"  Her note to her youngest son read as follows:  "Dearest Donald, you have the good sense to know what your mother likes.  The chicken you sent was delicious!"

While it is likely that none of us has the wealth of Milton, or Gerald, or Donald, Jesus cautions us against measuring the value of our lives by the amount of possessions that we have.  He uses the parable that we just heard in the Gospel reading to drive the point home. 

 Just for fun, I re-wrote it, using modern images: 

 "There was a man, almost as rich as Donald Trump (his hero), who had made millions on his Wall Street investments.  His earnings had enabled him to build a 10,000 square foot mansion on Longboat Key.  Life was good!  As time went on, his wealth increased.  He often thought to himself, "I'm living the life I always dreamed about.  That old expression, "eat, drink and be merry" is no longer something to wish for.  It's what I'm doing!"   One day, at a cocktail party, one of his friends kidded him about the middle-age spread that his once-trim body now exhibited.  The next day, he decided to do something about it.  He started to draw up plans for a free-standing gymnasium next to his mansion where he could work out and trim down.  He would even hire a personal trainer who could live in the apartment that he would include in the building.  Unfortunately, building such a structure would require a variance which had to be approved by the Zoning Commission.  The man went to present his case directly to the Commission, but, unfortunately for him,, the variance was denied.  That night, still fuming about the Commission’s decision (since, after all, he was a man who knew what power is and how to use it), he was gripped by a sudden, crushing pain that enveloped his chest and spread down his left arm.  His wife called 911, but before the ambulance arrived, the man was dead from a massive coronary.    

So, what is the point of the parable?  There are several, one of which is this:  just because we have many possessions doesn't mean that we are in control.  What we have, and what we own, has no survival value for eternity.   Another point is that if our number one priority is amassing wealth or possessions, or living out the "eat, drink and be merry" philosophy, we are at risk of cutting ourselves off from an ever-richer relationship with God.  The last sentence of the parable that Jesus told doesn't have to be updated with 2007 images and words.  Its relevance stands, spanning the centuries that have passed since the original telling of the parable:  "So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God."

And what does it mean to be "rich toward God"?  For me, the answer is found in the beatitudes, in which Jesus describes a lifestyle that is often at odds with the culture in which we live.  Reverend Charles Kiblinger, a retired Episcopal priest who now resides in Sarasota and assists at Saint Boniface, preached a magnificent sermon a few years back, entitled "Beatitudes as Counter-Culture."  It can be read in its entirely, and I encourage you to do so, by going to the St. Boniface website (www.boniface.cc) and clicking on "Sermons & Papers," then clicking on "Archives."  I would like to end our meditation this morning by reading a couple of excerpts from that thought-provoking sermon.

"The culture says:  Happy are they who have and hold an abundance of talents, good looks, money and things, accomplishments and good deeds.  Happy are those who are able to minimize the negative experiences of life by accumulating a large proportion of the wealth of this world, for to them belong the kingdoms they build.

Jesus says to those who would be his disciples:  "Blessed are the poor in spirit"--blessed are those whose poverty makes them vulnerable enough to know that they are totally dependent on God and that everything they have is a gift from God.  They know who they are.  They are truly blessed, for they have eyes to see the Kingdom of God in the richness of life that surrounds them.

The culture says:  Happy are those who hunger and thirst for power, control and material gain, and are willing to sell their souls for it, for they will get what they ask for.

Jesus says:  "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness."  Happy are they who seek in all things to live in right and honest relationship to the Creator, their neighbors, and their own true selves, for they will be filled.  They will be filled with inner treasure that can never be destroyed or taken away."

Like Jesus, may we be willing to stand up to the prevailing culture that entices us to take our eyes off the real values in life.  Like Jesus, may we be willing to be a counter-cultural presence in our world, cultivating values that focus not on "things," but rather on the furthering of the Kingdom of God.  In so doing, we will move one step further along on our journey to be Christ in this world.

Amen.                                                     Keehna Sture, Member, St. Margaret  Vestry