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| The Mustard Seed, by Khazakstani artist Nelly Bube |
PROPER 6, YEAR B
Ezekiel 17:22-24
Mark 4:26-34
On this Second Sunday after Pentecost, we return to what is sometimes called the “green season,” variously known in the 1979 Prayer Book as the Sundays after Pentecost, in the 1928 Prayer Book as the Sundays after Trinity, and in the contemporary Roman Missal as the Sundays of Ordinary Time. In the Western Church, green vestments are worn during this season.
The standard interpretation – I don’t know whether it’s the actual reason or an after-the-fact rationalization – is that green symbolizes life and growth. It’s the beginning of summer in the northern hemisphere; and the green vestments inside the church match the leafy trees, green grass, and bushes outside. How appropriate it is, then, that two of today’s readings feature vivid images of trees and plants: Ezekiel’s oracle of the cedar tree, and our Lord’s parables of the growing harvest and the mustard seed.
The passage from Ezekiel about the cedar tree requires a bit of interpretation. Ezekiel is writing when the Babylonians have conquered Judah, destroyed Jerusalem, and taken the king, nobility, and leading citizens of the land into exile in Babylon. It is a time of despair, when all hope for the future seems lost.
In the passage from which today’s Old Testament reading is taken, the prophet presents an allegory. An eagle with long wings and great pinions swoops down and breaks off the top branches of a great cedar of Lebanon. The eagle carries the branches off and plants them in a place beside abundant waters. But instead of growing into another cedar, the branches become a low spreading vine. In the interpretation that follows, the prophet explains that the cedar is the house of Israel, the eagle is King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, and the broken off branches are the exiles, transplanted to the great city beside the River Euphrates.
Then, in today’s reading, God himself declares that he will take a sprig from the top of the cedar and plant it on the mountain height of Israel. It will sprout branches, bear fruit, and grow into a noble cedar; under it the beasts of the field will dwell and in the shade of its branches birds of every sort will make their nests. The prophecy’s meaning is fairly transparent. God is promising that from among the exiles in Babylon he will bring back to Jerusalem – the “mountain height” – a royal heir to the throne of David to reign over a restored kingdom of unprecedented power and glory. It is a message of hope in gloomy times. Even though the house of Israel has been reduced to a creeping vine by the waters of Babylon, God will yet make it a noble cedar towering over all the trees of the earth.
In today’s Gospel, our Lord draws on this tradition of Old Testament prophecy to tell two parables of the Kingdom of God. Jesus uses this phrase, the Kingdom of God, to signify that future state of affairs where, in the words of the Lord’s Prayer, God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven – which is manifestly not the case in the present age. It means God’s final triumph over the powers of evil, and the consummation of his reign over all creation.
In the first parable, Jesus likens the Kingdom of God to a farmer scattering seed upon the ground. The days and weeks pass; the farmer continues his routines of sleeping and rising, night and day. By a mysterious process the farmer does not understand, the seed sprouts and grows, producing first the blade, then the ear, and then the grain. Finally, when the grain is ripe, the farmer puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.
In the second parable, Jesus likens the Kingdom of God to a grain of mustard seed: the smallest of all seeds when sown; and yet the greatest of all shrubs when grown, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade. That last detail is an obvious allusion to the Ezekiel prophecy in the Old Testament reading. Mustard plants are apparently common around the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and can grow to a height of six to nine feet. By itself, the detail about birds building nests in their shade may be a bit of hyperbole, but it makes perfect sense in relation to the Ezekiel prophecy.
Taken together, the parables emphasize two features of the Kingdom of God. First is the contrast between small beginnings and enormous endings. The abundance of the harvest contrasts with the scattering of seeds from which it grows; ditto for the great mustard bush which grows from the smallest of all seeds. Second, while we wait for the harvest, the planted seeds are growing towards maturity by a process that is largely hidden from human sight and understanding.
Our Lord’s message is, like Ezekiel’s, one of hope. Even though we live in a world that seems very far from the Kingdom of God, nonetheless the Kingdom is already present in our midst as seed. Just as the planted seed has its own inner dynamism and power of growth that is finally revealed at the harvest, so too does the Kingdom of God, which will be finally revealed on the Last Day.
Indeed, it may not be too much of a stretch to suggest a Christological interpretation in which the seed of the Kingdom is Jesus himself, planted by his Father in this world at his Incarnation in the womb of the Virgin Mary. In his earthly life his divine power and glory remain largely hidden, and seem utterly absent on the cross, but will be revealed in fullness when he returns at the end of the age.
The message of Ezekiel’s oracle and our Lord’s parables is good news for us today whenever we’re tempted to despair. We live in an age of growing secularization, loss of faith, and declining church attendance. But today’s readings show that this is nothing new; in many different forms, God’s people have faced far worse situations in the past. God is still at work in his proverbially mysterious ways; his kingdom is living and growing. At odd moments we catch glimpses of its beauty; much of the time it remains hidden from us. So we keep faith and persevere, trusting in God’s promises that when the harvest comes his Kingdom will be revealed in all its power and glory as having been present with us, and in us, all along.
