Day of the Church Year: 3rd Sunday after Pentecost
Scripture Passage: Mark 4:26-34
Each Sunday morning, Lutheran preachers around the world set out to proclaim both the law and the gospel. The law is what God calls us to do, the gospel what God does for us. The laws calls us to action; the gospel declares God’s action. Through our Lutheran lens, the gospel always trumps the law for we worship a gracious God. Most weeks for me as I prepare to preach and probably for most of us when we read scripture, the law arises with ease as we study a passage. What is God calling us to do? Even when we don’t like the answers, even when we would rather not do the thing God commands, the law can be like a pair of comfortable old slippers. We are accustomed to scripture commanding, teaching, guiding; we are accustomed to musts, shoulds, and oughts. The gospel, on the other hand, can make us squeamish. Being loved just because we are, goodness poured out for no reason, freedom, forgiveness, and grace when we don’t deserve it—and all of this not just for us but for every single person. The gospel of Jesus Christ is downright uncomfortable, confusing, and astonishing.
Dear friends in Christ, prepare to be uncomfortable, confused, and astonished this morning. For when Jesus teaches in parables to describe the kingdom of God, it’s all gospel. In today’s first parable, Jesus tells the crowds who gather around him that the kingdom of God is like scattered seed that sprouts and grows mysteriously, the farmer does not know how. The earth produces of itself first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain. In Greek, the original language of the New Testament, the word we translate as “of itself” where the earth produces “of itself” is actually the Greek word automate which is where we get the English word automatic. The kingdom of God, Jesus says, sprouts and grows automatically. And the farmer does not know how.
Two thousand years later, farmers know a little more about how seeds sprout and grow. Still, placing a seed in soil, in the sun, watering it, and then discovering sprouting and growth still feels like a miracle, out of our control, mysterious. About two months ago, I carefully followed the detailed instructions I found online about how to plant ginger. You know, that funky shaped root sold in the produce section of grocery stores that you dice and add to east Asian food. Or if you’re me, you add to nearly any food. As described in the article, I purchased organic ginger, cut off the required pieces, and sat them in the fridge for 24 hours to scab over. Then, I excitedly and carefully placed them in the soil on the other side of chicken wire from my ravenous chickens. Every other morning for three weeks, I watered the spot and hunted for signs of sprouting. When something green popped up in the general vicinity of my planting, I got excited only to realize it was an arugula volunteer. But I purchased another bag of organic ginger and tried again, this time in a pot in the front yard. Again, I watered every other day, and lo and behold, within just a few days, the ginger sprouted and grows to this day! This morning, even after yesterday’s 111 degree heat, it stands 8 inches tall with half a dozen leaves. The kingdom of God is like summer-planted ginger that sprouts and grows, the gardener does not know how.
And neither do I or any of us know how the kingdom of God grows among us. How is it possible in a culture plagued by individualism that ordinary people would take not an insignificant portion of their time to dig up the entire sprinkler system here at Grace and replace it (that’s a true story!), sing or play in the choir or praise band, deliver food boxes every Saturday, or get up early in the morning to make pancakes for someone else’s breakfast? How is it possible in a city as large and diverse as Phoenix—especially political diversity that usually leads to division—that neighbors would watch out for neighbors, neighbors would share garden produce and even groceries, and neighbors would help one another whenever help is requested? How is it possible that at a time when people engage in physical conflict over mask use as just one example among many that so many people also go out of their way to care for others in small, concrete ways? The pharmacy tech who figures out how to lower the cost of a prescription not covered by my insurance, the friend who offers a ride to another friend for a medical appointment, the brother who flies across the country to help out during a difficult time. Sometimes, it seems this world could not be more fully saturated by bad news, and then, grace and kindness, generosity and forgiveness spring up, unexpectedly. The kingdom of God sprouts and grows, we do not know how.
The kingdom of God is the work of God.God shows up here, in our world, right in the middle of this mess, a mess of injustice and brokenness, illness and death.God shows up here, in our fear and anxiety, in our anger and sadness.God shows up here, in what we can’t fix. God shows up here—in and through us. Why there is so much injustice and brokenness, that’s a sermon for another day, questions Jesus addresses with other parables. But today, it’s all gospel, and the gospel is this: the kingdom of God has come near, sprouting and growing even in the heat of summer. Thanks be to God! Amen.