7/26/20
(Genesis 29:15-28; Ps. 105:1-11,45b; Romans 8:26-39; Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52)
You may remember a movie made in the early 1990’s called “Philadelphia”. It starred Tom Hanks as Andrew Becket, a young lawyer at a prestigious Philadelphia law firm, who is gay, and who has AIDS. We need to remind ourselves that, back then, an AIDS diagnosis was a death sentence; and, back then, most gay people didn’t openly acknowledge their sexuality because of the prejudice that was still dominant then.
We quickly learn that Becket is a rising star at the firm, but about a third of the way through the movie he gets fired. The senior partners – who have been his friends and respected mentors – tell him it’s because of his poor job performance. But Becket thinks it’s because they’ve discovered that he’s gay, and that he has AIDS. So he takes them to court over it.
Near the end of the trial, which is very angry and contentious, Becket himself testifies (he’s very sick with the disease by this time); and when his lawyer asks him, Are you a good lawyer, he says, I’m an excellent lawyer. I love the law. His lawyer asks him, What do you love about the law, and he answers, Many things. What do I love most about the law? His lawyer nods; and Becket says, That, every now and then – not often, but occasionally – you get to be a part of justice, being done. It really is a thrill when that happens.
And the movie cuts to a shot of the three senior partners – the people he’s suing, at the defense table – all looking at Becket, with something approaching love; and with quiet pride – in him. And it’s clearly because he has just articulated what they all feel about the law. And all the bitter division between them – anger at the lawsuit, the fear of AIDS, the homophobia – for those few seconds, that’s all gone away; and for that moment they are brothers again.
This is just one moment in an old movie. But I think it’s a good illustration of what Jesus calls “the kingdom of heaven.”
For the last three weeks we’ve been hearing from Matthew chapter 13, which is the heart of Jesus’ teaching on that subject, which is at the heart of our lives as Christians.
The first thing we have to do is shake off the idea that “the kingdom of heaven” is the place where God lives, up in the sky somewhere, where hopefully we’ll go after we die, if we obey the rules. No. Jesus is talking about the presence of God we experience now, in this life: when what God wants is what happens: where there is love; and peace; and joy; and justice.
Because the kingdom of heaven is of God, it defies precise definition, but Jesus gives examples to point us in the right direction. In today’s reading those examples differ widely, but they have two things in common. First, they’re all similes: the kingdom of heaven is likea mustard seed, likeyeast that a woman mixed with flour, liketreasure hidden in a field. God is always creating, and what God creates is always new. So Jesus gives us indications, not definitions, because they would be meaningless: what he wants to do is put us on the lookout, for the kingdom of heaven that’s going to show up in our lives, in ways that are impossible to predict.
And the second thing these parables have in common is that they each describe the kingdom of heaven by telling a story from life, something with which his hearers are familiar: a tiny mustard seed which grows into a big shrub; a woman using yeast to make bread; a merchant who deals in pearls: very ordinary things.
Jesus is saying that the kingdom of heaven exists in this life, in things that seem so ordinary to us, it’s easy for them to escape our notice; but if we have the ears to hear and the eyes to see, we can find the kingdom of heaven around us all the time.
I’m going to flesh this out by commenting briefly now on the first four parables of the kingdom of heaven which we heard today.
These four parables really make two pairs. The first pair is about how, in the kingdom of heaven, little things can have infinitely big effects. The mustard seed is tiny, but produces a shrub that becomes a tree: a tree that’s big enough to have branches; where birds come and make nests; where birds lay eggs; which hatch new birds; and the cycle repeats itself. So from this one little seed, comes the creation of a world of new life, extending infinitely outward.
Jesus makes the same point, in different circumstances, in the story of the woman who takes yeast and leavens three measures of flour with it. To a modern ear this sounds unremarkable. But in those days a measure of flour was about fifty pounds; so three measures made 150 pounds of dough, enough to make bread for a hundred people. So that one woman, with that one little bit of yeast, provides nourishment for a great number of people: people who go on in the strength of that nourishment to live their lives: again, one small thing creating new life that extends infinitely out into the world, and the future.
The second pair of parables is about the kingdom of heaven we feel in the pure gift of the love of God. It’s a gift which we do not earn, but which God just gives us. Just think about this for a minute: God…loves…us. It’s the most mind-boggling thing there could possibly be; and it’s a gift for which we would give everything we have.
This is the experience of the man who finds treasure hidden in a field, and sells everything he has to buy the field, to get that treasure. This makes him sound kind of sneaky. But in that time, the people of Israel were under constant threat of invasion, and burying your valuables was a common way of protecting them; and the implication is that the original owner didn’t know the treasure was there, so it wasn’t his to begin with. So the discovery of it was a pure gift of God, out of the blue: that’s what causes the joy, which happens before he even acquires the field (“in his joy he goes and sells all he has and buys that field…”): the pure gift is the real treasure; for which the man would pay anything.
And finally, the merchant who deals in pearls finds one that’s greater than any he’s ever seen, so he sells all the pearls he’s already got to buy that one. The beauty of this pearl is what he’s been looking for all his life; so now none of his other pearls, which he’s spent his life acquiring, matter, and he’ll give them all up for his heart’s desire. That’s the beauty of the kingdom of heaven.
I’m going to close with a quick story of a little glimpse of the kingdom of heaven I had a while back here at St. John’s. For many years, every summer, we hosted something called Camp Jonathan. It was a one-week day camp for young people who have recently experienced the death of someone very close to them (usually a family member), a unique and wonderful program. One day I was invited to join their opening gathering; I got there a little early, and fell into conversation with a very energetic six-year-old boy. He was playing with two toy helicopters he had brought; I asked him some questions about what they could do, and he showed me how they took off and landed; he also showed me a grenade launcher he’d made with a rolled-up piece of paper and a pipe cleaner.
The next day, I was in my office just before lunchtime and that little boy (with one of the teachers) showed up at the door. He had a piece of construction paper in hand, and the teacher said that he wanted to show me his drawing. So I came out from behind my desk, and the boy held it up so I could see it. It was not immediately apparent to me what was represented; there were a number of odd, and brightly colored, shapes; so I asked him what it was, and he said, It’s a circus at my church. I said, A circus at your church? And he said, Yes, there’s a circus at my church. Evidently wherever his family went to church, somewhere around here, a circus had set up its tent and was performing on the grounds.
Now, I happen to love circuses, I’ve gone to the circus all my life, I’ve told circus stories in sermons. And the idea of a circus at a church was something that had never occurred to me, but the idea instantly took root in my head (there’s something of the kingdom of heaven in a circus, in the pure delight the circus creates.)
But of course the most wonderful thing was that it was just as exciting to this little boy, and that he had come down to share that excitement with me, on the basis of our five-minute friendship the day before. That was a gift of God, out of the blue, unmerited, with some implications that could be infinite (the exhilaration of a circus in a church), and from a very small source. To me, that has “kingdom of heaven” written all over it. As we become more aware of the presence of the kingdom of heaven in our lives, we grow in thankfulness, in hope, in joy; and, in the working of the Holy Spirit, all those spread out all around us. In the words of Andrew Becket, it really is quite a thrill when that happens. Thanks be to God.