I love the trees and the foliage that surround my house. On the very hottest days, the evergreen trees create a micro-climate that keeps our yard cooler. In the wintertime, the reverse is also true. Our yard can feel a bit warmer because the trees block the wind. The other benefit is that the surrounding foliage keeps out much of the noise that comes from the closest highway and the nearby light rail station.
There are drawbacks to the foliage which include limiting the amount of direct sunlight available for annual vegetables, and producing an enormous amount of detritus that accumulates beneath the fir trees, which needs to be raked and disposed of for fire safety. The debris includes fir needles, cones, and related smaller matter that besides creating a mess all over the walkways and deck, creates an acidic soil that inhibits growth in many kinds of plants I might otherwise wish to cultivate. I am grateful that there are many perennial plants that continue to grow in our forest garden: sunchokes, herbs, horseradish, chives, and Good King Henry which is a perennial green sometimes called “wild spinach” or “poor man’s asparagus.” I planted Good King Henry specifically because it is a perennial and tolerates shade.
I would not think of cutting down trees to create more sunny open space, and I have no desire to install a greenhouse with artificial heating and light. Instead, I foster perennials and plant the kinds of annual veggies that have a chance of growing in my yard rather than giving up on gardening. I also enjoy the bounty of fruit that comes from a massive, shade-providing, century-old, apple tree, and from raspberries that keep moving across the yard to find sun. I sow several successions of beans, a couple of weeks apart, hoping that at least some of them will produce a crop to harvest. I raise tomatoes and peppers in pots which I can move to sunnier locations until they get too big or heavy. Having a more realistic goal for my garden is good as I age.
In Sunday’s Gospel, Mark 4: 26-34, we hear two short parables. The first is a parable about planting seeds that is only found in Mark’s narrative, followed by the parable of the mustard seed which is found in both Matthew and Luke. The first parable reflects the kind of dryland farming that was practiced in the time of Jesus and of Mark. Dryland farmers, in contrast to most modern farmers, did not irrigate their fields or apply chemical nutrients. They were entirely dependent on the forces of nature. Thus, the farmer would sow seeds and then go about his life as he waited for the seeds to sprout and grow if it was a good year, or whither if it was not. Dryland farmers trusted in God (or nature) for the seeds to become plants and produce a crop to harvest. The farmer’s task was the sowing. The rest was ‘mystery’ for the farmer did not know how it happened.
Mark was writing about growing or building the Kingdom of God, which was the central message of Jesus’ ministry. The message is clear. The kingdom cannot be forced by human activity, but we can easily miss this point if we are not familiar with dryland farming. We live in a time of industrial agriculture where farmers not only irrigate, but have also learned to force seeds to sprout, to grow larger plants with higher yields through the use of added nutrients or genetic modification, and to survive pests and diseases through direct interventions. Thus, a parable that cautions patience and acceptance of the limits of human action may have lost its meaning.
The second parable, about the mustard seed, alludes to today’s first reading from Ezekiel 17:22-24. Ezekiel was reflecting on the political reality of his time as the Egyptian Empire continued to spread. By tearing off a tender sprout from topmost branches of the cedar tree, which represented Egypt, God was ending the growth of the Egyptian Empire. By planting the tender sprout on the high mountain, God was initiating a new kingdom, one that would be righteous (high up and holy). The mustard seed describes the way that the kingdom of God preached by Jesus will grow; slowly and surely, under God’s direction, like the cedar tree, the mustard seed grows until it is large enough for all the kingdoms of the world, represented in the parables by all the birds of the sky.
The Kingdom, or kin-dom as I prefer, will not come by force. Disciples have one role, and that is to plant seeds. The rest is not our work as frustrating and incomprehensible as that may seem. Yet all around us we see and hear of people who claim to be followers of Jesus working frantically to force God’s hand. Can we legislate the Kin-dom? No. That does not mean we shouldn’t work for just and fair laws in our land, but it does mean that changing laws does not change people’s hearts or minds. Changing hearts and minds is slow, tedious and often humbling, as well as frustrating, work. Can we legislate against evil? No. Again, that does not mean we should stop trying to make the world a safer, more humane place, but in the end, evil does not end because we pass a law or put up a sign. It takes concerted effort to recognize and ameliorate the actions and systems that send people down pathways that lead to violence, hate, and destruction. Can we, should we, initiate Armageddon – the decisive battle of good and evil? How arrogant of human beings to even think they are in charge of such a thing!
The job of believers is planting seeds and that is no small thing. Every good must start somewhere; inclusion, peace, justice, healing, abundance, reconciliation, etcetera, all good goals have a beginning. If we cannot treat the person next door with courtesy, how will we ever welcome the stranger or immigrant? If we are unable to listen deeply to a friend or family member, how will we be able to hear God’s voice? If we are unable to endure the slightest delay or discomfort, how can we possibly change the world? In his commentary on today’s gospel Fr. Jose Pagola puts it this way:
“There is a call addressed to all in the gospel. It consists in sowing small seeds of a new humanity. Jesus does not speak of big things. The kingdom of God is something very humble and modest in its origins, something that can go as unnoticed as the smallest seed, but has the potential to grow and bear fruit in an unexpected manner.” (page 97. Following in the Footsteps of Jesus.)
We are not capable of seeing through every future pitfall or appreciating every opportunity. We are limited. We are dryland farmers in the garden of God.
I just returned from North Dakota where my family has dryland farmed for 2 1/2 generations. My brother and I drove around looking at fields and the smallest of sprouted seeds. The wind was extraordinarily strong that day and blew topsoil. That is sickening to watch. You are correct that additives and chemicals are added to the crops now, but rain, hail, and wind come and go as they please.