Proper 6B; Ezekiel 17:22-24, Ps 92:11-14, Mark 4:26-34 St. Luke’s, Durham 6/16/24
Jim Melnyk: “Life Finds a Way”
Now, I’m not a farmer – and I didn’t stay at a Holiday Inn
Express last night. I’m not a Master Gardener – though I’ve know many over the
course of my ministry at several parishes. I am a fair-to-middling gardener.
I’ve had differing degrees of success with plants from basil to tomatoes; from
Lenten Rose to Solomon’s Seal; from Japanese Maples to Lilacs and Peonies. But
in spite of having at least a dangerous amount of knowledge about things like
seeds, soil, and pollination, it’s still a mystery to me – how it all works,
that is. Often times the success is in spite of my machinations. All I know is
that the less intentional work I do, the more haphazard the results. Paying
attention matters most of the time.
But there is also mystery – things that on the surface defy logic. My wife Lorraine and I just returned from nearly three weeks in Scotland. A week of that time was spent as pilgrims on the Isle of Iona – one of those “thin places” in this world – one of those places where the here and now is so tangibly close to the ethereal that one can almost touch the Holy One. An abbey sits on an ancient site on the isle. It’s where St. Columba first built his abbey in the sixth century. One can almost hear the chants of Columba and his fellow monks echoing through the ages. It is deeply moving to stand in prayer in a place where prayers have ascended in one setting or another for 15 centuries!
And yet the abbey yields an even greater mystery. The building is made of stone, and the only natural light in the space comes through stained glass windows. The air is cool and dry. And yet, in what should be a somewhat sterile place, ferns can be seen growing out of the walls in the chancel and along the window sills. Life taking root where it has no business taking root. Rare Sea Spleenwort Ferns growing on the interior walls of the Abbey. And although they may have taken hold in the mortar when the church was in ruins and open to the elements a long time ago – they still thrive in this darkened, stone-walled, space. Consider these rather simple ferns – warmed by the prayers of pilgrims and tourists over the years. They take in the exhalation of so many prayers every day, and in turn, they return oxygen to nurture those who pray. These living ferns breathe life into the space - meaning the building itself breathes!
The unexpected abbey ferns underscore the same mystery of a dried out seed falling to the ground and being buried in the soil. LIFE FINDS A WAY! Life finds a way. And though these ferns find themselves on the abbey walls through the mystery of how creation works, they thrive through a connection with their human partners. Life finds a way – but sometimes it needs a little help.
Author Megan McKenna tells another story that starts with seeds: There was a woman who wanted peace in the world and peace in her heart and all sorts of good things, but she was frustrated. The world seemed to be falling apart.
One day she decides to go shopping. She walks into a store and is surprised to see Jesus behind the counter. Finally she gets up her nerve and asks, “Excuse me, are you Jesus?”
“I am.”
“Do you work here?”
“No,” Jesus says, “I own the store.”
“Oh, what do you sell in here?”
“Oh, just about anything!”
“Anything?”
“Yes, anything you want. What do you want?”
She replies, “I don’t know.”
“Well,” Jesus says, “feel free, walk up and down the aisles, make a list, see what it is you want, and then come back and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
She does just that – walks up and down the aisles. There she sees hope-filled things like peace on earth, no more war, no hunger or poverty, peace in families, no more drugs, clean air, and careful use of resources. By the time she gets back to the counter, she has a long list. Jesus takes it, skims through the list, looks up at her, and smiles. “No problem.” And then he bends down behind the counter and picks out all sorts of things, stands up, and lays out a bunch of packets.
“What are these?” the woman asks. Jesus replies, “They are seed packets. This is a catalog store.”
The woman is perplexed. “You mean I don’t get the finished product?” “No, this is a place of dreams. You come and see what it looks like. I give you the seeds. You plant them. You go home and nurture them and help them grow, and someone else reaps the benefit.”
“Oh,” she replies with a shake of her head. Rather forlorn, she leaves the store without buying anything.[1]
Isn’t that just like Jesus? We want a finished product. Or, barring that, at least something plain and simple – a diagram – a blueprint – step-by-step instructions – something concrete and tangible. And what does Jesus give us? Parables. Riddles. Mysterious seeds. And then we remember: life finds a way. But sometimes it needs our help.
We have to plant those seeds – perhaps not really sure what the plants might look like at first – sort of like having a bunch of seed packets that have lost their labels. Once they sprout, we have to find a way to nurture the seedlings to maturity. And that can be challenging – late frosts, heavy rains, droughts, hail storms, and vandals can wreak havoc on our gardens. Politics and religious conflict destroy our spiritual gardens. But again, life finds a way – especially when we, partnering with the God of Creation, are willing to lend a hand.
It turns out that our prayers are the seeds we plant and nurture. But not only our prayers, but ourselves – our souls and bodies as well. We are also the seeds we plant and nurture. And God is a part of the whole process. Ezekiel speaks of God taking a tender shoot and planting it on the heights so that it might produce boughs and grow fruit – flourishing so that God’s creatures can find places to nest.[2] Ever wonder where Jesus found his imagery in today’s parable?[3]
The Psalmist tells us that the righteous shall flourish like a palm tree and spread like a great cedar.[4] Even Isaiah joins in the metaphor – telling us the “vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are God’s pleasant planting.”[5]
The kingdom of God – the communion of God – the kindom 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, they do not know how.”[6] In the mystery that is a parable, it turns out that we are the ones who scatter the seed – and at the same incredible moment, are also the seed being scattered. And whether it’s through our prayers or our actions – hopefully an indistinguishable mix of both – God’s kingdom comes – on earth, as it is in heaven. Life finds a way. God, in us and through us, finds a way.
