Proper 6 B
Sermon given on June 15,
1997
At St. Alban’s Episcopal
Church, Brentwood
By Rev. Valerie Ann Hart
Mark 4:26-34
A handful of wheat, five
thousand years old, was found in the tomb of one of the kings of ancient Egypt. Someone planted the grains
and, to the amazement of all, the grains came to life.
A parable is like a seed. No
matter how long ago the story was told, when planted in the heart, in the mind,
in the soul, it can come to life and grow. Each time we remember the story,
each time a new event in our lives triggers a remembrance of the parable, there
is a new understanding, and the seedling grows. Each time, each retelling, each
rereading, each remembering the depth of understanding grows.
Jesus taught in parables, in
puzzles, with stories that his hearers would remember, would think about, that
would aid and nurture the spiritual growth of the hearer.
There are parables of words,
and parables of action.
A sannyasi, an Indian holy man, had reached the outskirts of a village and
settled down under a tree for the
night when a villager came running
up to him and said, "The stone! The stone! Give me the precious
stone!"
"What stone?" asked the sannyasi.
"Last night the Lord Shiva appeared to me in a dream," said
the villager, "and told me that if I
went to the outskirts of the village at
dusk I should find a sannyasi who would give me a precious stone
that would make me rich forever.”
The sannyasi rummaged in his bag and pulled out a stone.
"He probably meant
this one, " he said, as he handed the stone over to the villager. “I found
it on a forest
path some days ago. You can certainly have it.”
The man gazed at the stone in wonder. It was a diamond; probably the largest diamond in the whole world for it was as large as a person’s
head. He took the diamond and walked
away.
All night he tossed about in bed, unable to sleep. The next day at the crack of dawn he woke the sannyasi and said, "Give me the wealth
that makes it possible for you
to give this diamond away so easily.”
A gift, an act of love, a touch, a statement, the
telling of one’s own story can be a seed, planted in the heart, which grows to
enlighten the soul. The gift given without expectation, the seed planted
without knowing how, or why or if it will grow. The faith of the farmer who
keeps scattering seed on the ground even though he doesn’t know why or how.
Even though sometimes for days and nights he sees nothing above the ground. The
seeds are scattered in faith - faith that somehow they will bear fruit.
The Samaritan woman put down her water jar
and went off to the town. She said
to the people, "Come and see the man who has told me everything I ever
did. Could this be the
Messiah?"
What a wonderful teacher was the Samaritan woman! She gave no answers. She only asked a question. She planted the seed of a
question. It
must have been tempting to give
the answer because she had gotten it directly from Jesus when he said, “I am the Messiah. I who am talking to you." But she was content to scatter the seed of a question and
let it grow.
Many more became disciples because
of what they heard from his own lips. They said to the woman,
"It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard him ourselves,
and we know that this is, indeed, the Savior of the world. "
We too need to be like the farmer who scatters
seeds. We are called to scatter seeds - seeds of our own stories - the parables
of our own lives - seeds of faith, seeds of love, seeds of gifts given without
expectation. We plant the seeds in those we care for, in those we meet, in our
neighbors, our friends, and our children. We tell the stories, we ask the
questions, we give the gifts and then we sleep and rise night and day and let
the seeds sprout, and grow and rejoice that the smallest of seeds can become
the greatest of all shrubs.
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