Homily For The Tenth Sunday After Pentecost
23 July 2005
The Cathedral Church Of St. Philip , Atlanta
The Rev. Canon Todd Smelser, Homilist
The
All of the world’s great religious traditions—Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism and of course our own Christianity have deep layers of tradition and interpretation. Each tradition has its own set of doctrines which seem right, hierarchies which maintain the religious structures and rituals in which the faithful are invited to participate. Each tradition has it’s set of heroes and heroines, as well as a standard of behavior which we might call collective ethics. But in every corner of the globe, and within every faithful household, the great tradition is supplemented and lived out in a far more domestic environment. Here words are not so lofty as they are comforting. Rituals as not played out in grand Cathedrals and mosques, but in the birthing of babies, the sending off our children to school, the last breath of my mother’s cousin after a long illness. For most folks who are neither prelates nor rulers, our prayers and our songs are not confined to prayer desks and choir stalls, but in catching the fish, or preparing the meal, or in finding you grandmother’s set of pearls.
What is the Kingdom of heaven like? Jesus seems to have a lot of different answers to that question in today’s Gospel. The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed. Or, it’s like yeast. Or it’s like a treasure hidden in a field. Or, it’s like a pearl of great value. Or, it’s like a net thrown into the sea.
Well, Lord, we might query, which is it? These are just metaphors—the kingdom of heaven is of course not really a mustard seed. It’s like a mustard seed. Even Jesus seems to have trouble describing the kingdom of heaven. Maybe that’s because human language is inadequate to describe it, in the same way that our attempts to describe God are always inadequate.
What is really being described here is not a concrete definition, but rather a description of faith. Of finding enough faith in God not only to believe in the big stuff, but the faith that God is working in all the tedious chores and daily routines of life; in the commonplace tragedies or the ordinary miracles of human existence.
In the Gospels Jesus sews a rich harvest of stories, like those we hear today, which gave rise to those four extravagant Gospels that shelter and sustain his church, and in which we can find a home. In them, Jesus points us toward God: not God set apart and far away, not a God only to be worshiped and adored, debated and defined. But God, known and named, who is tasted and touched in the midst of the mess, in all the mystery of our creaturely existence, and finally in that last unknown mystery of death.
For leaven, after all, is only dead bread—the moldering, decaying bit of old dough, stashed in a dark and hidden place. And from such a dying comes energy and power to raise the rest of the lump. It is a little recipe for salvation, from Jesus himself, and it carries the seed of our tradition.
When I read this Gospel, I am always reminded of those wonderful treasure hunts we had as children. Someone would hide all sorts of things in peculiar places, and we would search throughout the house, hoping to find the very valuable treasure. During stewardship time we often hear this passage, from a more pragmatic point of view. But in today’s context of this string of parables, we might again ask the question what and where is your treasure? Would it be a prized heirloom, or your IRA or that coveted beach house? Would it be your loved one, a spouse or partner or child? Or would it be something intangible—good health, or security or freedom?
For Jesus, the treasure we seek is the
One of the gifts that our former priest and colleague Elizabeth Rechter gave us was a deeper appreciation for the common truths which lie at the root of all sacred texts and traditions. In a fascinating new book FIVE VOICES FIVE FAITHS An Interfaith Primer, editor Amanda Millay Hughes makes this timely comments.
“Over the past several years, I have become increasingly convinced that the greatest legacy my generation of adults can offer to the world may rest in learning how to live with and value fundamental difference. While that difference may be understood in terms of ethnicity, race, age, sexual orientation, or a host of other particularities, perhaps the most challenging arena in contemporary society is that of differing religious belief and practice….We can do more than tolerate difference—we can honor it as part of the richness of the human experience. I also believe Christians can, and perhaps must, play a key role in the development of this honoring.”
While God may still speak from
Comments? Contact The Rev. Todd Smelser: tsmelser@stphilipscathedral.org