Bush League Ezekial 17:22-24, Mark 4:26-34
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God?”
That’s a tough one.
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God?”
That’s kind of like saying, “With what can we compare a sunset?”
or “With what can we compare that feeling of first love?”
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God?”
What’s a good analogy for God’s dream for God’s world?
I don’t know. Do you? Let me see…
God’s realm is…as big as a giant circus tent when you’re six years old
and you’re holding your Daddy’s hand and climbing the bleachers to find your seat
and your eyes are wide as saucers trying to take it all in.
God’s realm is…as colorful as the Aurora Borealis on a cold Minnesota night.
and you’re wrapped up in blankets, a steaming mug of cocoa warming your hands
and your heart’s about to burst from the beauty of it.
God’s kingdom, God’s realm, God’s dream for God’s world
It defies analogy, but that doesn’t stop people from trying.
The Prophet Ezekial used the analogy of one of the cedars of Lebanon,
the biggest tree he could imagine
to describe what he believed to be God’s coming glory.
The cedars of Lebanon were legendary for their size – 130 feet high, 8 feet in diameter.
They were long established symbols of majesty and grandeur
and Ezekiel borrowed the symbolism to fit his purpose.
In his vision, Ezekiel saw God take a tiny cutting from one of the mighty cedars
and plant that cutting on Mt. Zion in Israel.
And even though at the time Ezekiel was active as a prophet,
God’s people were being taken into exile in Babylon,
he still put forth the vision of a tiny sapling, transplanted in David’s city
that would one day stand so tall and strong,
that every kind of bird, that is, every other nation, would live in it’s shadow.
The Kingdom of God is like a lofty cedar,
straight, sturdy, enduring - growing from a twig into a mighty tree
that towers over every other tree.
That’s an analogy we can sink our teeth in;
the kind of triumphant imagery with which anyone would like to be identified.
It’s an image for the long haul,
an analogy for winners.
Across the country this month
thousands of high school seniors are walking across stages in cap and gown
reaching out to take their diploma and to shake the principal’s hand.
Many of those students are high achievers,
young men and women who have been on a steady, upward rise to success
from the moment they first sat in a sandbox.
They have had loving parents to read them bedtime stories,
creative teachers who knew how to captivate their imagination,
and a hearty breakfast to start each school day.
These students and their families have followed the rules.
They’ve done it right.
Their hard work has paid off.
THEY are like cedars – straight, sturdy, enduring.
There are no surprises. No surprises here.
That’s the way we like life, isn’t it? No surprises.
We like there to be rules, rules that, if followed, will lead us to success.
It’s the heart of our national mythology;
the whole “Founding Fathers” mystique;
the protestant work ethic and manifest destiny all rolled into one.
Like ancient Israel we in this country imagine ourselves to be God’s favorite.
We can easily adopt Ezekiel’s vision of the cedar as our own,
as the emblem of God’s blessing on us – strong, steadfast, immovable.
It suits us, especially the part about all other nations living in our shadow.
The problem Israel ran into with this image of the cedar
is that they forgot that it was an analogy of God’s strength, not their own.
They forgot that any steadfastness or endurance they showed
was not intrinsic to their nature, but a gracious gift from the Almighty.
They forgot that when other nations rested in their branches
it was their opportunity to serve, not to exploit.
It is precisely Israel’s tendency to forget,
to confuse their power and God’s power,
to get so lost in their dream for themselves
that they lose sight of God’s dream for God’s world
that is behind Jesus’ parables of the kingdom.
Only when we know the background of Ezekiel’s analogy of the giant cedar
can we see the humor in Jesus’ parables of God’s Kingdom.
“The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed.”
OK, I’m with you so far. The small becomes great.
That which is tiny has big potential.
It’s like Ezekiel said, the twig grows into the giant cedar.
The Kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed
tiny, barely visible, a speck.
But when it is sown upon the ground it grows up and becomes the greatest of all …
the greatest of all…
the greatest of all…SHRUBBERIES.
Not a giant cedar with sturdy trunk and evergreen crown.
A shrubbery. A bush. Not even a nice English boxwood or holly,
but an invasive species that no self-respecting gardener would ever plant on purpose.
Unlike the mighty cedar,
the mustard seed Jesus is talking about grows into an annual plant.
It grows up to six or eight feet, which, yes, considering the size of the seed it starts from
is quite impressive,
but the stem is hollow, the branches are weak,
and it lasts only one season before it dies.
Small birds may sit in its branches to snack off of the seeds.
They may scratch under its branches and make nests on the ground in its shade.
But it’s certainly no cedar tree, that’s for sure.
Do you get the joke?
With a nod to Ezekiel that no one in his audience could miss,
Jesus turns the image of God’s realm on its head.
The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed. That’s it! That’s all!
It doesn’t look like much as a seed.
And the value of the bush it grows into isn’t judged by its sturdiness or its dominance.
Unlike Ezekiel’s analogy of the cedar,
For Jesus, God’s realm isn’t about predictable outcomes
or documented value or steady progress.
For Jesus, God’s realm is mysterious, and UNpredictable and full of surprises.
There are high school students graduating this year who have done everything right.
They have solid homes, good teachers, predictably bright futures.
They are the cedar trees.
But there are others graduating who are more mustard than cedar.
Their success was NOT guaranteed.
It’s a mystery for some why they’re walking across an auditorium stage at all
and not languishing in a prison cell or a pool hall somewhere.
In ninth grade, Cody Tipton of Erwin High School in Asheville, NC
was making money by selling the drug xanax to classmates.1
He certainly wasn’t studying algebra.
When he got busted he no doubt looked to his teachers and classmates
like nothing more than a noxious weed
Not a giant cedar, that’s for sure!
But something surprising and wholly unexpected happened to Cody.
Instead of getting into a cycle of revolving door prison sentences
Cody got a job at Bojangles and went back to school.
He’s been on the A/B honor roll ever since.
Giovanni McKnight lived without a father in a housing project in Miami.
That is, he lived there before losing even that and moving to a homeless shelter.
He was another insignificant speck, an anonymous child headed for disaster.
He bounced around to eight different schools before moving to Asheville
where he enrolled at Asheville High.
Again, against all the odds, a tiny seed was planted.
It was there somebody saw his athletic potential and got Giovanni on the track team.
He graduates this year with the school record in the 55 meter dash.
The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, Jesus says,
and it grows into a bush, not a cedar.
There’s a term you’re probably familiar with – it’s a term of derision,
meant to insult and demean.
It’s the term, “Bush league.”
It comes from the beginnings of organized baseball,
when big city teams had fancy ball fields surrounded by high walls.
Small town fields, however, were defined not by walls but by bushes.
Big city teams looked down on them.
They were “bush league.”
In Jesus’ own words, the Kingdom of God is Bush League.
To a world more enamored with cedars, this Kingdom looks pretty pathetic.
To a world that likes things simple, predictable, easily managed,
this bush league realm makes no sense. It’s downright offensive.
In a Cedar kind of world we get what only what we deserve, no more and no less,
and it’s all about maintaining dominance at all costs.
In a cedar kind of world you fight to keep things the way they are,
otherwise the tree topples over and then where are you?
But in Jesus’ bush league view of God’s Kingdom
there is always mystery and possibility and irrational hope.
Always a chance for a tiny seed to take root,
nobody deserves much, but that doesn’t stop God’s extravagant giving.
In Jesus’ bush league view of God’s Kingdom,
The least becomes great and the great may not last
and patience is a virtue because things are always changing.
In the bush league, God is in charge and we are God’s partners,
but only because that’s the way God wants it and who are we to argue.
With what can we compare the Kingdom of God?
With what, indeed.
_______
1 Students Jump Hurdles to Graduate, The Asheville Citizen Times, June 12, 2009.
That’s a tough one.
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God?”
That’s kind of like saying, “With what can we compare a sunset?”
or “With what can we compare that feeling of first love?”
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God?”
What’s a good analogy for God’s dream for God’s world?
I don’t know. Do you? Let me see…
God’s realm is…as big as a giant circus tent when you’re six years old
and you’re holding your Daddy’s hand and climbing the bleachers to find your seat
and your eyes are wide as saucers trying to take it all in.
God’s realm is…as colorful as the Aurora Borealis on a cold Minnesota night.
and you’re wrapped up in blankets, a steaming mug of cocoa warming your hands
and your heart’s about to burst from the beauty of it.
God’s kingdom, God’s realm, God’s dream for God’s world
It defies analogy, but that doesn’t stop people from trying.
The Prophet Ezekial used the analogy of one of the cedars of Lebanon,
the biggest tree he could imagine
to describe what he believed to be God’s coming glory.
The cedars of Lebanon were legendary for their size – 130 feet high, 8 feet in diameter.
They were long established symbols of majesty and grandeur
and Ezekiel borrowed the symbolism to fit his purpose.
In his vision, Ezekiel saw God take a tiny cutting from one of the mighty cedars
and plant that cutting on Mt. Zion in Israel.
And even though at the time Ezekiel was active as a prophet,
God’s people were being taken into exile in Babylon,
he still put forth the vision of a tiny sapling, transplanted in David’s city
that would one day stand so tall and strong,
that every kind of bird, that is, every other nation, would live in it’s shadow.
The Kingdom of God is like a lofty cedar,
straight, sturdy, enduring - growing from a twig into a mighty tree
that towers over every other tree.
That’s an analogy we can sink our teeth in;
the kind of triumphant imagery with which anyone would like to be identified.
It’s an image for the long haul,
an analogy for winners.
Across the country this month
thousands of high school seniors are walking across stages in cap and gown
reaching out to take their diploma and to shake the principal’s hand.
Many of those students are high achievers,
young men and women who have been on a steady, upward rise to success
from the moment they first sat in a sandbox.
They have had loving parents to read them bedtime stories,
creative teachers who knew how to captivate their imagination,
and a hearty breakfast to start each school day.
These students and their families have followed the rules.
They’ve done it right.
Their hard work has paid off.
THEY are like cedars – straight, sturdy, enduring.
There are no surprises. No surprises here.
That’s the way we like life, isn’t it? No surprises.
We like there to be rules, rules that, if followed, will lead us to success.
It’s the heart of our national mythology;
the whole “Founding Fathers” mystique;
the protestant work ethic and manifest destiny all rolled into one.
Like ancient Israel we in this country imagine ourselves to be God’s favorite.
We can easily adopt Ezekiel’s vision of the cedar as our own,
as the emblem of God’s blessing on us – strong, steadfast, immovable.
It suits us, especially the part about all other nations living in our shadow.
The problem Israel ran into with this image of the cedar
is that they forgot that it was an analogy of God’s strength, not their own.
They forgot that any steadfastness or endurance they showed
was not intrinsic to their nature, but a gracious gift from the Almighty.
They forgot that when other nations rested in their branches
it was their opportunity to serve, not to exploit.
It is precisely Israel’s tendency to forget,
to confuse their power and God’s power,
to get so lost in their dream for themselves
that they lose sight of God’s dream for God’s world
that is behind Jesus’ parables of the kingdom.
Only when we know the background of Ezekiel’s analogy of the giant cedar
can we see the humor in Jesus’ parables of God’s Kingdom.
“The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed.”
OK, I’m with you so far. The small becomes great.
That which is tiny has big potential.
It’s like Ezekiel said, the twig grows into the giant cedar.
The Kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed
tiny, barely visible, a speck.
But when it is sown upon the ground it grows up and becomes the greatest of all …
the greatest of all…
the greatest of all…SHRUBBERIES.
Not a giant cedar with sturdy trunk and evergreen crown.
A shrubbery. A bush. Not even a nice English boxwood or holly,
but an invasive species that no self-respecting gardener would ever plant on purpose.
Unlike the mighty cedar,
the mustard seed Jesus is talking about grows into an annual plant.
It grows up to six or eight feet, which, yes, considering the size of the seed it starts from
is quite impressive,
but the stem is hollow, the branches are weak,
and it lasts only one season before it dies.
Small birds may sit in its branches to snack off of the seeds.
They may scratch under its branches and make nests on the ground in its shade.
But it’s certainly no cedar tree, that’s for sure.
Do you get the joke?
With a nod to Ezekiel that no one in his audience could miss,
Jesus turns the image of God’s realm on its head.
The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed. That’s it! That’s all!
It doesn’t look like much as a seed.
And the value of the bush it grows into isn’t judged by its sturdiness or its dominance.
Unlike Ezekiel’s analogy of the cedar,
For Jesus, God’s realm isn’t about predictable outcomes
or documented value or steady progress.
For Jesus, God’s realm is mysterious, and UNpredictable and full of surprises.
There are high school students graduating this year who have done everything right.
They have solid homes, good teachers, predictably bright futures.
They are the cedar trees.
But there are others graduating who are more mustard than cedar.
Their success was NOT guaranteed.
It’s a mystery for some why they’re walking across an auditorium stage at all
and not languishing in a prison cell or a pool hall somewhere.
In ninth grade, Cody Tipton of Erwin High School in Asheville, NC
was making money by selling the drug xanax to classmates.1
He certainly wasn’t studying algebra.
When he got busted he no doubt looked to his teachers and classmates
like nothing more than a noxious weed
Not a giant cedar, that’s for sure!
But something surprising and wholly unexpected happened to Cody.
Instead of getting into a cycle of revolving door prison sentences
Cody got a job at Bojangles and went back to school.
He’s been on the A/B honor roll ever since.
Giovanni McKnight lived without a father in a housing project in Miami.
That is, he lived there before losing even that and moving to a homeless shelter.
He was another insignificant speck, an anonymous child headed for disaster.
He bounced around to eight different schools before moving to Asheville
where he enrolled at Asheville High.
Again, against all the odds, a tiny seed was planted.
It was there somebody saw his athletic potential and got Giovanni on the track team.
He graduates this year with the school record in the 55 meter dash.
The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, Jesus says,
and it grows into a bush, not a cedar.
There’s a term you’re probably familiar with – it’s a term of derision,
meant to insult and demean.
It’s the term, “Bush league.”
It comes from the beginnings of organized baseball,
when big city teams had fancy ball fields surrounded by high walls.
Small town fields, however, were defined not by walls but by bushes.
Big city teams looked down on them.
They were “bush league.”
In Jesus’ own words, the Kingdom of God is Bush League.
To a world more enamored with cedars, this Kingdom looks pretty pathetic.
To a world that likes things simple, predictable, easily managed,
this bush league realm makes no sense. It’s downright offensive.
In a Cedar kind of world we get what only what we deserve, no more and no less,
and it’s all about maintaining dominance at all costs.
In a cedar kind of world you fight to keep things the way they are,
otherwise the tree topples over and then where are you?
But in Jesus’ bush league view of God’s Kingdom
there is always mystery and possibility and irrational hope.
Always a chance for a tiny seed to take root,
nobody deserves much, but that doesn’t stop God’s extravagant giving.
In Jesus’ bush league view of God’s Kingdom,
The least becomes great and the great may not last
and patience is a virtue because things are always changing.
In the bush league, God is in charge and we are God’s partners,
but only because that’s the way God wants it and who are we to argue.
With what can we compare the Kingdom of God?
With what, indeed.
_______
1 Students Jump Hurdles to Graduate, The Asheville Citizen Times, June 12, 2009.
posted by David Cameron | 5:26 PM
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