"Seeds"

Joshua J Sander
6/17/12
Third Sunday after Pentecost
Father’s Day
“Seeds”

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13
Mark 4:26-34

I think I have always loved today’s Hebrew Scripture lesson. I don’t know about you, but I have always liked the moment when Jesse brings out his favorite sons and the eldest, Eliab, is standing before Samuel. Now in those days, in that place, being the eldest really meant something. It meant you were important. And Eliab has even more than his position as eldest going for him. He was a pretty big dude—and handsome, too. I always imagine Eliab as the stereotypical high school Captain of the Football Team and All-Star Quarterback—like Cory Monteith playing Finn Hudson in GLEE or Burt Reynolds in The Longest Yard or, you know, Joe Namath or Tom Brady in real life. Big, strong, handsome, charismatic—even Samuel takes one look at him and thinks, “Wow. This has got to be the guy.”

But he isn’t the guy. And I have to admit that I take a little pleasure in that fact. Because stereotypically the big, strong, handsome, charismatic guys always seem to have everything going for them—or at least a pretty girlfriend and a geek to do their homework. One of my seminary friends once admitted to me that she and her best friend in high school used to refer to the kids on the other end of the spectrum as trolls—you know, the smart but socially awkward and un-athletic ones, the stereotypical geeks doing the Football Captain’s homework. The Trolls. I don’t know about you, but there have been times in my life that I’ve felt a little Troll-like.

But God says to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” I suppose that news can be either disconcerting or hopeful, depending on whether or not you’re Eliab—I mean if you’re doing pretty well according to how the rest of the world measures things it would probably be a little hard to learn that God doesn’t measure things the same way.

On the other hand, if you aren’t the Captain of the Football team—and I suspect that most of us aren’t—there is hope in that knowledge. For what it’s worth, my friend went on to say that she wished she’d known then that Trolls tend to be the sweetest guys. In fact, if she could do high school over again, she’d eagerly date a Troll. I guess she learned to value the heart of a person over their physical or social status.

Can you imagine being Samuel, though? God sends you to do this job, and you think you know what you’re up to, but as soon as you say to yourself, “Aha! This has to be the guy.” You’re told, “No. I see something that you don’t. Try again.” I mean, it’s one thing to be told that it’s what’s on the inside that counts—but to be expected to pick someone out of a crowd on that basis is something else entirely.

Can you imagine staring at son, after son, after son, after son, after son, after son, after son… and just not seeing what God wants from you? Can you imagine living in the midst of that great mystery? Can you imagine wondering what it is that’s hidden inside of these people, that only God can see?

…and Samuel said to Jesse, "The Lord has not chosen any of these. Are all your sons here?" And Jesse tells Samuel that there is one more son. He’s the youngest and therefore lowest on the totem pole. In fact, he was forced to watch over the sheep while the rest of the men got to do the important religious ceremony with Samuel. And Samuel said to Jesse, "Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here."

And when David, the youngest and least important son, arrived, the Lord said, "Rise and anoint him; for this is the one." Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward. There’s something about God giving that kind of power to the smallest, the youngest, the least important that I’ve always loved.

I will also always have a soft spot in my heart for this scripture because it is directly related to the very beginning of my sense of being called to ordained ministry. I was a high school aged youth at Silver Lake Conference Center, which is the summer camp and conference center for the Connecticut Conference of the United Church of Christ. I was participating in a summer conference which is now known as the God Show—basically it involves 40-some-odd high school youth writing and producing a musical within a little less than a week.

Can you imagine what an intense experience it is? You come rolling into camp on Sunday afternoon with nothing even written, and by Friday night you’re performing for the rest of camp! And then on Saturday morning you go home. What a truly awesome experience. So once you get past the initial settling in questions—you know, questions like “Which bunk is mine?” and “Where are the bathrooms?” and “Why are the bathrooms called the ‘Freds’”—the first question concerning the show is, “What story are we going to tell?”

So we break into small groups and each group comes up with an idea for a story to tell. That particular summer, my group started talking about David. We all had heard the scripture lesson from this morning and we all knew the story of David and Goliath and we knew that David became the King of Israel… but we had no idea why God was upset with Saul or what kind of a King David turned out to be, or any of that—so we opened our Bibles and started reading.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever read all of David’s story, but if you have you know why our little teenage minds were completely blown. There was all kinds of political intrigue and war and enough sin to make daytime television blush. Honestly, I imagine that the adult leadership was glad when the group decided to tell a different story that summer, but I’m still glad that my small group was curious enough to go exploring like that. We learned that there’s a lot more going on in the Bible than we’d been taught in Sunday School.

So we picked a different story, wrote the lines, wrote the music, and performed it on Friday. And on Saturday we went home. And on Sunday I went to church and somebody asked me how Silver Lake was. And of course Silver Lake had been awesome. Very excited, I began to tell her about the whole experience, starting with how we broke up into small groups to find a story to tell and how my group had been looking at David… And seeing how excited I’d gotten over *stage whisper* Bible Study, she asked me, “Have you ever considered becoming a minister?”

“Uhhhh. No.”

But it was like a seed had been planted in me at Silver Lake without my even realizing it. And now that someone had named it, I couldn’t help noticing it. And the more I noticed it, the more I thought about it, and the more I thought about it, the more it just felt right. I began to notice how the various gifts God has given me could be used in ordained pastoral ministry.

It feels strangely appropriate to me that my sense of call began with the anointing of David, with a story of God looking into the hidden recesses of a man for something invisible and good. Because my call was not like that of Elijah, or Jeremiah, it was not like the call of Isaiah or Paul. There were no strange voices or visions. There were no angles. There was no thunderbolt from on high. I was not struck blind. I did not change my name. There was just something little inside of me, growing, like a seed hidden in the earth.

He also said, "The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how… He also said, "With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."

Speaking of Bible study, have you ever pondered the parable of the mustard seed? There’s so much more going on there than one might think at first glance. I mean, yes, Jesus is using a seed metaphor for the same reasons I just was: it’s a good way of talking about little things that are hidden and mysterious but turn out to be much bigger, powerful things in the long run. But why mustard?

I mean, at first glance, there would be better seeds to use to make that point: there are seeds that are smaller than the mustard seed. And there are seeds that grow into much bigger plants—a tree would be an obvious choice, wouldn’t you think? In fact, Ezekiel talks about God growing a little sprig into a mighty cedar tree capable of housing many birds in its branches… so, why mustard?

Well, there was a guy called Pliny the Elder, who lived between 23 and 79 C.E. He had the following to say about the mustard plant in his work entitled, "Natural History":

With its pungent taste and fiery effect, mustard is extremely beneficial for the health. It grows entirely wild, though it is improved by being transplanted: but on the other hand, when it has once been sown, it is scarcely possible to get the place free of it, as the seed when it falls germinates at once. (Pliny, "Natural History" 19.170-171; Rackham et al. 5.528-529)

So, what Pliny is saying… well, here, let me show you.
This is a mustard flower.
This leads to this.
And this.
And even, in some cases, this.
Pliny says that it’s tasty and good for your health, but… well… it’s a wildflower.

No, worse, it’s a really pervasive weed that has a tendency to get in with other plants and go wild. In fact, Jewish tradition forbids you to plant mustard in your garden because, well, it behaves like a weed. A particularly pretty and useful weed… but still a weed. Jesus said that this is what the Kingdom of God is like. It’s like when this
leads to this.

I hope that you’ve been living a little bit of the mystery of small, hidden things this morning, in the form of these packets. You can tell that they’re mysterious because they have these question marks on them, right? I’ve intentionally left off telling you about them until the end of the sermon on purpose, so that you might get a little bit of the feeling Samuel must have had, waiting for God to tell him which son was the one he was looking for.

I’m willing to believe, though, that some of you have already guessed what’s inside. How many of you think you know? Just as I thought. And you’re probably right. These are packets of seeds. Do you want to know what will grow from these seeds? So do I. I mean, I know a little more than you do at this point: I know that these are wildflower seeds. I’m assuming that they aren’t as invasive as mustard, or Lowes probably wouldn’t have been selling them, but… I’m not really a gardener.

I don’t know what they’ll look like when they come up. And that’s kind of the point. They’re mystery seeds. Emmi and I are going to find someplace sunny to scatter these and just see what happens. I have faith that it’ll be something pretty, and good. Just like I have faith that there are little, secret parts of each of you that only God can see. Mysterious and good little things that are just looking to grow and bloom in you—and then spread like mustard.

Let us pray: Abba, Father, Daddy—you do not see as we do; you look upon our very hearts. You can see all of the little mysterious things in us that lay dormant like seeds sown in rich earth. Cultivate us, we pray. Give us sun, and water, and the nutrients we need to grow the those things that are right and good within us. And then help us to use those things to spread Your Kingdom far and wide. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

"Mystery"

Joshua J Sander
6/3/12
First Sunday After Pentecost
Trinity Sunday
“Mystery”

Isaiah 6:1-8
John 3:1-17

Believe it or not, when I discovered the scripture lessons for this week, I immediately thought of Family Ties. How many of you remember the television program, Family Ties? Family Ties was a sit-com that ran from 1982 to 1989 and starred Michael J. Fox as Alex P. Keaton. Alex was the oldest son of the family and a lot of the comedy revolved around the tension between his former hippie parents’ ideals and Alex’s kind of egotistical, over-achiever, big business, money-is-everything mindset.

But the piece of Alex P. Keaton that makes me think of Nicodemus is how very logical his actions frequently are. You see, Alex is the kind of person for whom numbers are stable and comforting and emotions are simply difficult.

For example, in one episode, he meets his girlfriend, Lauren’s, ex-boyfriend whose name is Eric. Alex, of course, immediately has both his relationship and his ego threatened: Eric graduated from the same college Alex attends, won all the same awards Alex won, and all but one of the scholarships Alex obtained—on the other hand, it wouldn’t have been appropriate for Eric to obtain that scholarship… after all, it was named after Eric. Eric has a Porsche, a job on Wall Street, an apartment in Manhattan… As Alex later puts it, “When we compare resumes he tops me in every category.”

Alex is sincerely worried, because in his mind, logically, Lauren should be dating Eric. Alex obsessively makes up lists of those things that he sees as marketable about himself and compares them to Eric. And then Alex begs his family to tell say why they love him. “I must be missing something,” says Alex, “there must be some good points that I have that Eric doesn’t have…”
Eventually, Alex is forced to discuss the situation with Lauren, saying, “I want you to have the best of everything, you know? And then when I met Eric, I couldn’t help but think that maybe he was the best.”

And Lauren simply replies, “Alex, I don’t love Eric.”

But Alex… he just can’t wrap his mind around that. After all, Eric is better in every category. Lauren tells a really cute story to illustrate why she loves Alex, but it’s just not a measurable thing that fits in his categories or on his list. And finally he’s forced to say, “Alright. Alright… You can’t come up with anything concrete. That’ll have to do.”

But Lauren says, “Alex, this isn’t something you have to define. You don’t have to clarify. It just is. And it’s wonderful!”

I think that Nicodemus is the same way. We don’t actually know how big his ego was, but we do know that he was a member of the elite—he was a Pharisee, so he was well educated, he was a leader, he had power and he was important.

The way John tells the story, Jesus goes directly from his first miracle—turning water to wine at the wedding in Cana—to overturning the money-changing tables and driving the people who were selling the sacrificial animals out of the temple. And many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone.

I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but human beings seem to just naturally resist change. We want things to stay the same, to stay comfortable. We recognize that growth is change and we want to grow, but… we’d prefer for it to at least fit into our current understanding of how things work. We want to grow, but not if it means that what we know isn’t the whole picture—or even worse, simply wrong.

On one hand, change is uncomfortable and undesirable, especially for those who are as powerful and important as Nicodemus is. On the other hand, Jesus is literally turning things on their heads while gaining believers through the signs that he was doing. Jesus doesn’t fit in his categories or on his list. So he goes to Jesus and starts with the one fact that he can pin down, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God."

Jesus responds by telling Nicodemus that he cannot see the Kingdom of God without being born again and born from above. Nicodemus needs to change and to grow and to let go of what he thought he knew in order to understand who Jesus is and what Jesus is doing. But that kind of change, that kind of growth, that kind of new learning isn’t easy.

Nicodemus questions Jesus, tries to wrestle the conversation back into familiar territory, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?”

Jesus pushes his boundaries, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished. The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

You can almost hear Nicodemus caving in when he says, “How can these things be?” This is all so new. It’s not at all what he’d learned was true. And it isn’t at all concrete—it isn’t something you have to define. You don’t have to clarify. It just is. And it’s wonderful!

It isn’t until Nicodemus finally gives up and gives in and is saying, “How can this be?” that Jesus gets to the good news: that the Son of Man will be lifted up in order that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

It is human to want to understand, well, everything. It is the nature of God to be a mystery. And because these things are both true, 400 some odd years after the life of Jesus—or about 16-hundred years before us, depending on how you look at it—theologians came up with idea of the Trinity.

There’s no place in the Bible that specifically states that God is both three and one, but in today’s scripture lesson Jesus uses Father language for God and Son language for himself, as well as speaking of the Spirit.

So, as a friend of mine once put it, in this lesson,

“…we understand the relationship of Christ to the Creator to be intimate, close, indwelling, along with the Spirit–a hint at the Trinity. While the Trinity is a concept never named in the Bible, we have inferred the triune relationship of God through scriptures such as these, knowing that we can never fully understand God, the Trinity helps us understand how God has been made known to us.”

On the other hand, I’ve known people who really dislike the idea of the Trinity, because it isn’t logical. The numbers don’t work. One plus one plus one does not equal one in most people’s math. The idea that Creator, Christ, and Holy Spirit are all the same God and their own selves doesn’t fit into their categories or onto their list. And that, actually, is half the point.

On Mother’s day I told you that God is bigger than you—that God is bigger than all of you and me put together. I told you that when it comes to figuring out who God is, we’re like blind people arguing over what an elephant is like.

One of us has the trunk and exclaims that an elephant is like a snake. Another of us wraps their arms around a leg and says, “You’re wrong! An elephant is very much like a tree!” Yet a third lays their hands on the tail and says “You’re both wrong, and elephant is clearly like a broom!” Each is accurately describing their experience of an elephant, but none of them has the whole picture. And that’s what it is always going to be like when we try to talk about God.

So it is quite appropriate, actually, to speak about God in terms that don’t quite make sense. Saying that God is both Three and One preserves the mystery of a God who is so much greater than us that we couldn’t possibly understand while still trying to describe the way God interacts with us.

And that’s the other half of the point. Even though God is so much bigger than us that we are actually incapable of wrapping our little minds around who God is, we can and should describe what our limited experiences of God are like.

I mean, that’s basically what the Bible is, isn’t it? A record of humanity’s experiences of God. Isaiah experiences God as the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Even the Seraphs, who’s voices literally shook the temple, even they covered their faces in God’s presence.

And yet, mighty as the God Isaiah is, he does not simply hand down instructions, but rather asks the question, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And Isaiah responds, “Here I am, send me.” So we can describe our God as one who calls—and to whom we respond. And of course, this is just one more of many, many examples. I certainly encourage you to add as many examples as you can to your own understanding of who God is and what God does.

Luckily, Christianity in general has been doing the work of pulling together experiences of God for time out of mind—through the process of compiling the 66 books of the Bible and through countless statements of faith. In 1959, the General Synod of the United Church of Christ adopted its own Statement of Faith and it is widely regarded as one of the most significant Christian faith testimonies of the 20th century. I’d like to invite you to find the insert in your bulletin entitled “UCC Statement of Faith in the form of a Doxology,” and as we read it together in unison, I’d like for you to notice how it describes who God is by talking about what God has done. Please join me:

We believe in you, O God, Eternal Spirit, God of our Savior Jesus Christ and our God, and to your deeds we testify:  

You call the worlds into being, create persons in your own image, and set before each one the ways of life and death.  

You seek in holy love to save all people from aimlessness and sin.  

You judge people and nations by your righteous will declared through prophets and apostles.  

In Jesus Christ, the man of Nazareth, our crucified and risen Savior, you have come to us and shared our common lot, conquering sin and death and reconciling the world to yourself.  

You bestow upon us your Holy Spirit, creating and renewing the church of Jesus Christ, binding in covenant faithful people of all ages, tongues, and races.  

You call us into your church to accept the cost and joy of discipleship, to be your servants in the service of others, to proclaim the gospel to all the world and resist the powers of evil, to share in Christ's baptism and eat at his table, to join him in his passion and victory.  

You promise to all who trust you forgiveness of sins and fullness of grace, courage in the struggle for justice and peace, your presence in trial and rejoicing, and eternal life in your realm which has no end.

Blessing and honor, glory and power be unto you.  

Amen.