on the parable and paradox of the mustard seed

 On the Parable of the Mustard Seed

Who ever saw the mustard-plant,
wayside weed or tended crop,
grow tall as a shrub, let alone a tree, a treeful
of shade and nests and songs?
Acres of yellow,
not a bird of the air in sight.

No, He who knew
the west wind brings
the rain, the south wind
thunder, who walked the field-paths
running His hand along wheatstems to glean
those intimate milky kernels, good
to break on the tongue,

was talking of miracle, the seed
within us, so small
we take it for worthless, a mustard-seed, dust,
nothing.
                   Glib generations mistake
the metaphor, not looking at fields and trees,
not noticing paradox. Mountains
remain unmoved.

Faith is rare, He must have been saying,
prodigious, unique —
one infinitesimal grain divided
like loaves and fishes,

as if from a mustard-seed
a great shade-tree grew. That rare,
that strange: the kingdom

                         a tree. The soul
a bird. A great concourse of birds
at home there, wings among yellow flowers.
The waiting
kingdom of faith, the seed
waiting to be sown.
 

  • Denise Levertov


The Gospels are filled with stories and references to seeds. I find myself paying attention when seeds and nurturing, cultivating metaphors are used. And I have always been fascinated by the paradox of the mustard seed itself, the tiniest of seeds which grows into a sprawling spreading plant.


Are we sowers? Or are we seeds? The answer like so many in the Bible is yes to both. Kind of like the country song sometimes you are the windshield sometimes the bug!! 


But new focus was added for me when I read Joan Chittister this week on prophetic courage. “We are to seed the present with godliness so that others may someday reap the best of what we sowed.” 


We are not good at non immediate gratification! Yet the basis of our faith is a waiting, albeit a paradoxical one. We are waiting for the return of Christ, yet we believe he abides with us. We are waiting for the kingdom, yet we are reminded that not only is it here AND yet to come, but it is within. 


All this is dizzying and may be assisted by seeds. Like the sowing of seeds however small and scattered in the spring our souls reside in a process of becoming, growing into a fullness which may ultimately be revealed in God’s time in a different awareness.


“Glib generations mistake
the metaphor, not looking at fields and trees,
not noticing paradox. Mountains
remain unmoved.”

Today this verse calls me to notice the paradox of prophetic sowing. I have never been a fan of “glib”; I have always been intrigued by paradox, especially the paradox of losing self to find true self. 


Mountains then may be indeed moved, not immediately, but made low eventually by the selfless casting of seeds of love and kindness and mercy and justice. May I know that sowing that I be sown by such grace. 


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