On Earth As It Is In Heaven

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

[Jesus] put 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 told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.”

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

“Have you understood all this?” They answered, “Yes.” And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”

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I was grateful for today’s Gospel in a different kind of way this week. With everything going on in the world, my last few sermons have been pretty heavy, it seemed. And this one could be, too, of course. The parables can be as challenging and as heavy and as hard as anything, but I don’t have it in me to go there again today. I’m not sure what was going on in the news the day Jesus rattled off these parables about the Kingdom of Heaven – it seems impossible they were having a year like we’ve had so far in 2020, but who knows? Whatever the case, I found myself just wanting to muse about Jesus’ penchant for painting a picture of the Kingdom of Heaven – those mustard seeds, that yeast and flour, the treasure in a field, the merchant, the fine pearl and the fishing net, too.

I – and countless other preachers and theologians – have dissected and theologized and philosophized and pontificated about the deep meaning behind each of these parables. Volumes have been written about the meaning of the mustard seed. Tomes have been written about the treasure in the field. Pages and pages and paragraph after paragraph have been penned about fine pearls, and all the rest.

So usually, when this Gospel collection of Jesus’ parables shows up, I pick one and run with it, adding my two cents to what so many, smarter more faithful preachers than me, have already said about any one of these images of the Kingdom.

So, this time around, I decided to wonder about all of them together. And I thought it seems possible that maybe Jesus is more like brainstorming with himself or spit-balling at a board meeting more than he is preaching to or teaching the disciples anything he’s absolutely certain about with these parables. (This whole section of parables in Matthew’s Gospel begins with Jesus taking a seat by the sea, then getting into a boat when the crowds surround him. He may not have been out there prepared to preach and teach at all that day when he said these things.)

So I’m just wondering, what if this litany of parables is more like Jesus musing outloud and trying to find the words himself to describe the Kingdom of Heaven to his friends and followers in some way that makes sense. After all, all of those parables, full of their metaphors and analogies and illustrations and teaching moments don’t, frankly – in their details – have a whole lot in common. But, taken together, I realized, their message and meaning seem to say two pretty simple, but profound, holy, and inspiring Truths.

First … the kingdom of heaven is all around us, all of the time, in simple, surprising, everyday things. (In seeds and fields, in treasure and pearls, in flour and fishing nets, and all the rest.)

And second … you know it when you see it.

So, first things first … the kingdom of heaven is all around us, all of the time. And I’m not talking about “samples” of the kingdom. Not “images” of the kingdom. Not “illustrations” or “metaphors” or “analogies” or mere “approximations” of the kingdom. But I believe the Good News of Jesus was and is that the Kingdom of Heaven IS. The Kingdom of Heaven is alive and well and around us, now, right where we sit or stand, and out there in the world, too.

And, again, we know it when we see it. We feel it when it finds us. We are moved by the Kingdom when we sense that we’re moving within the Kingdom.

So, I wonder … have you seen it? Have you experienced it lately? Have you witnessed your life and faith coming together in ways that might have felt a little bit like heaven on earth? If you were by the sea in Galilee, spit-balling with Jesus about what the Kingdom of Heaven might be like, what would you suggest to keep the conversation going?

I have some ideas, but I’d love to hear yours. (This is the “crowd participation” portion of the sermon that most Lutherans would only do by way of Zoom, so I thought I’d take advantage of it. Because you can share your ideas with me or with everybody using the “Chat” feature at the bottom of your screen. You don’t actually have to talk in church! If you want to be even more shy and anonymous, even, send me a private Chat message and I won’t tell who said what.)

No pressure, though. I’m going share some from my own spit-balling and brainstorming and invite you to sit with them for a moment or so. Some are specific and particular. Some are more universal and common ground we all might share in one way or another. Whatever the case, I hope we can reflect on and relish the Kingdom among us, this morning, so that we might recognize it more often in the magnificent and the mundane of our daily lives going forward.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is like holy communion in your living room or kitchen, these days.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is like an acoustic guitar and a cleverly turned lyric, something like John Prine or the Indigo Girls, if I had my pick.

Speaking of a cleverly turned lyric. I read this poem, this week, written by a four-year old with a book deal. (I’m not sure if the Kingdom of Heaven is like a four year-old with a book deal, but this poem is pretty great.)

Coming Home Nadim Shamma-Sourgen (4 years old)

Take our gloves off. Take our shoes off.
Put them where they’re supposed to go.
You take off your brave feeling
Because there’s nothing
to be scared of in the house:
no dark caves, no monsters,
no witches, no bees, no howling sounds
You don’t need your brave anymore.
Wash your hands. Eat lunch. Go get cozy.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is not needing your “brave” anymore.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is the smell of puppy breath.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is like making love and meaning it.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is being able to offer forgiveness, fully; and to receive it, fully, just the same.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is the perfect gift – given or received.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is like baseball’s opening day and the Buckeye Marching Band taking the field on a perfect Fall Saturday afternoon.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is a well-earned vacation.

The Kingdom of Heaven is justice done … mercy extended … gracious compassion.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven will happen later this morning when the body of Representative John Lewis is marched across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, one last time, as part of his life’s celebration.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is when the healing comes … and I think it’s also the ability to muster hope when it doesn’t.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is saying goodbye and walking out the door for the last time, knowing you’ve said all there is to say.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is the ability to preach a sermon without words.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like laughter that brings tears and belly aches and more laughter, still.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is that sound or scent or song or season that pleasantly surprises you with the memory of a moment or a person or a place you haven’t thought about in a while. 

Today – and in these days, especially, perhaps, – we are called to see and to be the Kingdom of Heaven for one another and for the sake of the world. And today, Jesus reminds us that we are surrounded by the Kingdom at every turn. God is relentless about showing us the Kingdom in our midst. And I think Jesus means to open our hearts and our minds and our eyes so that we will see it more often and rest assured and be at peace and find joy in its fullness – on earth as it is in heaven.

Amen

P. S. Thankfully, Zoom recorded the “crowd participation” portion of the sermon, since I couldn’t see or say all of the Chat replies in real time. Below is the complete list of responses, from those in both worship services, about the ways and places they’ve seen or experienced the Kingdom of Heaven lately. Thanks for playing along.

Baptisms

The kingdom is in laughter.

The kingdom is in the smile of a child.

Neighbors coming together during the pandemic – in distant ways, outside.

The rising chorus demanding justice for all people.

I see it when I am walking on the open space trail with the Rocky Mountains to the west.

When a grandchild looks at you with adoring eyes and says "I love you Grandma."

In the beauty and abundance of nature around us on our patio this morning.

Knowing that God brought my husband home from the hospital to still be with me.

Watching families being together in the outdoors as I ride my bicycle.

In the blooming of flowers.

From the playfulness of the four paws in our lives.

Neighbors who watch over and are there for me!

The beauty of nature God has given us.

We had a beautiful granddaughter born this week!!!

Neighbors sharing meals.

Watching a brilliant sunset last weekend.

The joy of kids cannonball jumping into a swimming pool.

Love of dogs and cats and their ways to make a bad day better.

We saw seagulls turning pink in the sunset over Lake Erie.

 A momma duck and her babies gliding on the pond.

Every time we work with the food pantry.

Lindsey's Thursday night yoga on the labyrinth.

Wonderful conversations with friends and family.

Double rainbow.

Being on a boat on a lake!

Abby caught the ball yesterday getting the batter out and Ginny reinvigorated the team for a win.

Walking on the beach.

Watching the sunset over the ocean.

Feeling safe on a huge roller coaster.

Seeds, Weeds, and Cancel Culture

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, ‘Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’ ”

Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!

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The beauty of Jesus’ parables is that they continue to speak a surprisingly relevant, timely word to us in this day and age, just as they did for those who heard them the first time around. And if you believe, like I do, that a parable is allowed to – that a parable is even supposed to – generate new meaning in new situations, it seems entirely possible that Jesus’ parable of the weeds and the seeds has something to say to us regarding something Jesus may never have been able to guess about our life in the 21st Century: this new-fangled thing called “Cancel Culture,” I mean.

You know about this, right? This 21st Century, social-media-fueled phenomenon where someone does something or says something that is offensive, if not reprehensible enough, to enough people, with enough power and influence, that said person is “canceled” in whatever way seems fit – or feared – or appropriate – according to the masses. In the words of Jesus’ parable, you might say, the weeds get cancelled – pulled out by their roots and burned up with fire – right where they are.

I have to admit, I’m sort of inclined to “Cancel Culture” sometimes, and I’m not sure how to think about myself because of that, thanks to Jesus’ parable. For example, I didn’t feel bad when I found out that that white woman in Central Park lost her job when video went viral of her, choking her dog while threatening to call the cops on a black man, and using his race against him, in the meantime, all because he asked her to stop breaking the rules. I also felt no small measure of righteous indignation when I saw another white couple had suffered similar consequences – they lost their jobs after being relentlessly shamed on social media – when they called the cops on a black man for writing with chalk on the wall surrounding his very own house. They thought it unlikely, if not impossible, that a person of color could or should live in such a neighborhood.

The owner of GOYA foods was threatened with being “cancelled” just last week for speaking kindly about the President of the United States. Anyone accused or guilty of sexual assault or misconduct in the day and age of the “Me Too” movement is pretty much doomed – just ask Matt Lauer, or Al Franken, or Louis C.K. And the list goes on. You can Google “Cancel Culture Victims” to find more of this sort of thing.

So I wonder … in the words of Jesus’ parable in today’s Gospel … are the words and actions of these people … are these people, themselves … weeds or seeds? And are they worthy of being pulled out or plucked up or called out or canceled in such ways?

Again, my sinful, broken, score-keeping self is inclined toward the former – the weed-pulling, I mean. If someone is so blatantly, obviously, offensively, ignorantly racist, or sexist, or violent, for example, I find some measure of satisfaction to learn that they have suffered some consequence for their words or actions.

And that’s why Jesus’ parable in this morning’s Gospel can be sort of hard to swallow.

See, his disciples want to know about how they should handle this cosmic sort of weeding project Jesus seems to describe. We know – and the disciples finally figure out – that the weeds in Jesus’ story represent sin and evil in the world, and Jesus wants them – and us – to think about those weeds and all they represent – differently than we’re inclined to a lot of the time.

Like is true for me, it seems our first intention, our first temptation, is to determine who is or what are to be considered “weeds” and who is or what are to be considered “good seed.” When we talk about heaven and hell, about the end of time, about the coming of God’s kingdom – our first temptation is to want to be on the right side of it all; to be on the winning team so that we aren’t one of the ones who gets “left behind.”

But this just leads to even greater, scarier temptations: Temptations to point fingers and decide who’s right and who’s wrong. Temptations to make decisions about who’s worthy and who’s not. Temptations to judge – by our own standards – who’s good or bad, who’s saved or damned, who’s forgive-able or not, who’s welcome or not, who’s loved or loveable or whatever … or not.

And we can find examples of it all over the place. In Jesus’ time, it was the Pharisees who did a lot of the finger-pointing. They worried about who was eating what, or who was working on the Sabbath, or who wasn’t following the law to the letter. And based on their worries, they pretended to determine – with very good, faithful intentions, mind you – who should be in and who should be out.

And, whether it’s sexual or political or religious or racially motivated persuasions, we don’t have to look very hard to find instances in our world where people take it upon themselves to make decisions about who should be in and who should be out; again, decisions about pulling weeds from the good seed, as Jesus might put it.

But I hear Jesus drawing a distinction this morning, between what we might relish in the “Cancel Culture” of this day and age and the Kingdom of God in the age to come. In other words, I’m hearing that, while “Cancel Culture” may be a thing on this side of heaven, “Cancelling the Kingdom” may not be ours to claim on the other side of it all.

What I hear in Jesus’ parable is that there are too many of us choosing not to grow alongside too many others. And I believe Jesus is challenging us with this parable, to remember that the “Cancel Culture” we have come to know might not be our work to do; our garden to tend; our Kingdom to cultivate, all by ourselves.

Whether we do it out of fear or out of love… out of genuine concern or out of ignorance… with all the Biblical scholarship and well-reasoned theology or not, Jesus tells us that this sort of thing is not our job, when it comes to the Kingdom of God. Jesus tells us he is the one – “The Son of Man will send his angels” he says, and then “at the end of the age.” What that means to me is we’re to leave the weed pulling, the weeping and the gnashing of teeth, for another time.

Instead, Jesus teaches, with this parable, that now is the time for something altogether different. Now is a time for planting good seeds of promise, of hope, of reconciliation, and of love. Now is a time for growing together. Now is a time for growing alongside. Now is a time for being the good seed that grows and bears fruit in spite of – and in the face of – whatever weeds might threaten or challenge or scare us along the way.

Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting we “live and let live” to the point that the weeds of sexual assault and racism, discrimination and injustice are given a pass for the sake of “going along and getting along.” I’m suggesting – and I’m hopeful – that the good seeds of justice and love and grace, the good seeds of mercy and forgiveness and transformation, can grow boldly and bravely and faithfully alongside all of those weeds – in spite of all of those weeds – and until all of those weeds – are transformed, themselves, to bear fruit worthy of God’s Kingdom “on earth as it is in heaven.”

That is hard, holy work for sure. And some of us – people of privilege, mostly – have some heavy lifting to do, in this regard.

If the weed is racism, those who benefit from racist systems have some growing alongside to do with those who take advantage of their status and privilege.

If the weed is sexism, good men in our culture have some growing alongside to do with those who take perpetrate injustices against women.

If the weed is poverty, those of us with means have some growing alongside to do with those who take advantage of those who are poorer than others.

And this “growing alongside” is hard and holy because it looks like humility and repentance and forgiveness and persistence. And it is God’s call to the Church, because it is much more Christ-like than all of the world’s weeping and gnashing of teeth. And it’s harder, frankly, than the “Cancel Culture” that surrounds us so much of the time. It’s harder to “grow alongside” and to bear fruit among the weeds, trusting that God’s way of grace will win the day. But I believe it will, in the end, for the sake of the world. I believe we can do this work precisely because God’s grace has – already – won the day, through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Amen