Showing posts with label garden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label garden. Show all posts

Sunday, July 16, 2017

"Planting as an Act of Faith:" A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Purple Coneflower in my neighbor's yard. The photo will make sense to you if you read the sermon.

"Planting as an Act of Faith"

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23


      
         Those of us who are gardeners plant our gardens in the spring and wait eagerly for what we planted to produce flowers or vegetables. 
            For a few weeks, I had an abundance of black raspberries.  But not too much else in my garden is ripe yet.  A little lettuce. Some chard.  But no ripe cucumbers or peppers-- yet.  Growing plants need time.
This is a good time of year to think about what the Parable of the Sower can teach us. 
Jesus has come out of the house and is sitting beside the sea. Such great crowds gather around him that he gets into a boat and sits there, while the crowd stands on the beach. And he tells them many things in parables, beginning with the parable we heard today.

            "A sower went out to sow.  And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up.  Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil.  But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. 
            Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them.  Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty...."        

            This is rich...  deep...  mysterious stuff!   Those who have ears to hear-- listen!”

            So-- what do we hear in the parable?  I think we get some clues from the context.  Chapter 13 begins with the words "the same day," which connects it to what has happened before. 
The parables of chapter 13 are Jesus' response to the rejection he has experienced in the preceding two chapters.   He’s trying to help people understand why a lot of people aren't responding positively to what Jesus is saying and doing.

Those of us who are gardeners know what we do to try to produce a good harvest.  We prepare the soil. We buy good seed and plant it. We water when necessary. Then comes the time of waiting-- the time between planting and harvest.          
            But we are well aware of how many things are out of our control.
Things can happen that we don’t control. Heat waves.  Drought.  Torrential rain or hail storms.  Hungry rabbits. We're not in charge of any of this.
Even in good soil, the increase differs.  “Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.”
Jesus tells the crowds that they won’t always be successful when they sow the seeds of the kingdom. Did you figure out the statistics from what he says?  Sowing the seeds of the kingdom results in failure three out of four times.  Seventy-five percent of the time, the work you do related to the kingdom of heaven will not yield anything.  Nothing.
The Rev. Jill Duffield suggests we imagine that stat on a college recruitment postcard or an annual financial report or the list of best jobs or a guide to happiness, health, and wealth. “Come join us and fail--often, repeatedly, spectacularly, totally!  See your efforts result in nothing!  Not exactly the top 10 ways to wealth or three easy steps to happiness or 30 days to a thinner you.”[1]

When Jesus tells this parable to the crowds and to the disciples he’s mentoring, he knows that the road ahead will become increasingly risky and harrowing. If we’re going to follow Jesus and sow seeds of the kingdom of heaven, we’re going to get plenty of opportunities to learn from failure. 
Jesus has already warned the disciples of persecutions to come. In the very next chapter, John the Baptist will be beheaded. God’s present and coming kingdom will not come without great resistance, and Jesus doesn’t try to hide that truth. Failure is certain. Sometimes our best efforts won’t bear any fruit-- or at least not the kind or amount of fruit we hope for.
            We are living in anxious times.  Some of us find ourselves having moments of despair at the state of the world.  When we look around, there are more problems than we can possibly solve. And sometimes we worry and wonder: “What’s this about, God?  Have we been planting enough seed? Are we doing something wrong?
            In agricultural terms, we live between the time of planting and the harvest, and it is a time of uncertainty.  We want to trust that we will see the planting bear fruit.  We want to believe that what God has begun will come to fruition.
              
            Barbara Brown Taylor calls the process of how seed sprouts and grows "agricultural grace."[2]   We're not in control.  As much as we'd like to keep digging up the seed to check and see if it's sprouted yet, we need to plant and then wait in faith. 

            I'm continually amazed and surprised by the plants that appear in places where I didn't plant them.  Under my blue spruce trees, in the shade garden, beside the hostas and lily of the valley, I have a couple of Rose of Sharon shrubs. One grows up against the trunk of one of the spruces—so close I couldn’t dig it out if I tried.  
            My next-door neighbors on one side don’t seem to care about anything in their yard except the required mowing, yet this year I see some Purple Coneflowers growing next to their street tree, apparently from seeds from my plants.  
            I find Black-Eyed Susan’s and Purple Coneflowers and Feverfew Chrysanthemums and Toadflax and Cornflowers and Rose Campion growing in places I know I didn't plant them.  Over the years, my neighbors have seedlings from my flowers and tomatoes growing on their side of the fence-- things that they didn't plant.  Sometimes a dill plant grows in the expansion joints of my driveway. I've planted lots of flowers and herbs.  But the wind and the birds have a part in the planting too.
            Sometimes I’ve thought the White Columbine I brought from Pennsylvania is gone, crowded out by more aggressive plants.  Then a season or two later it shows up again and blooms--a reminder of Helen, the woman who gave me the plant as a parting gift when I moved to Michigan.  
            I’ve never planted any common milkweed in my garden, but I have an abundance of it in my garden to provide a good habitat for Monarch butterflies. The seeds just came-- carried by birds or the wind.
           
            A sower went out to sow….    
            In the church, we're not in control of the harvest.  That's up to God.  What we are responsible for is sowing gospel seeds.  If we let our anxiety take over, we might keep the seeds in our pocket, or plant them in safe little pots where we can keep a close eye on them or try to control them…  or dig them up every day or two to see if they've sprouted. 
            Here at Littlefield, we've been planted in a neighborhood where we don't get to see dramatic results, in terms of the church growing a lot bigger.  Sometimes it's really hard to trust God for the harvest.  But planting is an act of faith.  We've been planted, here as a result of seeds that were planted earlier, and we're responsible for sowing seeds in faith and hope.
            The seeds I'm talking about sowing have to do with embodying Jesus Christ in our actions and words.  I'm talking about reaching out in respect and friendship, honoring each person we meet, caring enough about them to take the time to get to know them...  finding out what they value… and need… and believe.
            I'm talking about being so filled with the love and peace and joy of Jesus Christ that some people will want to know how we got that way.
           
The parable of the sower and the soils reminds us that we are not in charge of the harvest.  We are called to be faithful disciples of Jesus Christ and to work as co-gardeners with God to sow the seeds of love and righteousness and justice.
            The seeds will land where they land.  Some of the seeds will feed the birds...  and they may end up being planted in some unlikely places!  Some of the seeds fall into the ground.  There in the dark earth, where you can't see and don't know how, they will push up through layers of dirt-- sometimes even through stone or cracks in concrete-- through whatever is in their way. 
            "Some seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain..."
            The good news is that God the gracious gardener is in charge of the growth.  The harvest will come in God’s time.

            Many of us have heard the story of Johnny Appleseed—that legendary frontiersman who walked across Ohio and other states giving out seeds for fruit trees.  Many generations benefitted from Johnny Appleseed’s passion for planting. 
            How different would things have been if Johnny Appleseed was worried about seeing the results of his efforts?  Suppose he didn’t trust the power of the seeds to grow?  Suppose he felt personally responsible for hovering over each and every tree until it was producing fruit?  How many trees would he have been able to plant in his lifetime?
            So it is with our sharing the good news of God’s love.  The resistance to God’s reign of justice, mercy and grace is real and strong. But our faith teaches us that, ultimately, goodness is stronger than evil, life is stronger than death. There will be discouraging times when we don’t see the yield from the seeds we plant. But there will be bursts of amazing, life-giving, abundant growth.

            Our job is to work with God in planting the seed, and then trust that grace happens beyond, through, and despite our efforts to control it or keep it in our back yard.    God can use our efforts to bring forth an abundant harvest—in God’s good time.  The Kingdom will come, on earth as it is in heaven, and we will have the joy of being part of it!              
            Thanks be to God!
Amen!
                                   

The Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
July 16, 2017


[2]Barbara Brown Taylor, Mixed Blessings.  (Susan Hunter Publications, Atlanta, Georgia, 1986), p. 68.



Wednesday, April 22, 2015

"Knowing Our Place in God's Good Creation." A sermon preached at Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Psalm 104. April 19, 2015, the Sunday before Earth Day.


Earth Day is approaching this week, and—if you turn on the news or go online, you’re sure to hear challenging ideas about caring for the environment.  So this Sunday seemed like a good day to celebrate God’s Creation and to ponder our place in it.  It’s a day to reflect on what our faith says to us about how we are called to live on the earth.
In this season of Eastertide, we are celebrating good news:   in raising Jesus from the dead, God has broken the power of sin and evil and delivered us from the way of death-- to life eternal and abundant.   We ponder what it means to live as Easter people… and what it means to live in the ways of God here and now, in a world where hunger, poverty, poor health, fear, violence, and injustice are daily realities for many of God’s people.  And today, especially, we are challenged to reflect on how we are called to live in relationship with God’s good creation.

The text of the first hymn we sang this morning, “The Canticle of the Sun,”  was composed by St. Francis of Assisi.  Francis is known as one of the earliest Christian environmentalist and the patron saint of ecology.  Those of you who were in our book group a few years ago, Chasing Francis, may remember one of the characters saying the Francis “was a nature mystic.  His love for the earth shaped his whole theology…. Franciscans call it a spirituality of creation.”[1]
St. Francis believed everything we see in creation is a reflection of the Creator-- just as we are.  He treated everything in creation as if it were his brother or sister, because we all have the same parent.
For Francis, the world was a prayer book where the footprints of God,[2] could be found everywhere. 

When you ask people about God—and where they feel close to God—for many people one of their first responses would be “Nature.”
I know that I feel close to God when I work in the garden, working with God to cultivate my vegetable crops and planting  flowers to create a place of beauty.    I find joy in sharing a place on earth with Sister Robin and Brother Monarch Butterfly.
But for many of us, even those who feel close to God in nature, there’s a disconnect.   Susan Andrews puts it this way:  “If God is in Nature, if God is the designer of the complexity and intricacy and inter-dependability of Nature, then shouldn’t we honor and worship and glorify this God by protecting that same natural world?  And yet only 50% of Presbyterians consider themselves environmentalists… and only 51% of us have ever voted for a candidate based on his or her environmental positions.  It seems that we ‘discover’ God in nature, but then ignore God when we are called to put the well-being of nature before our own personal agenda.”[3]
 
In the Sufi tradition of Islam, there’s a story that tells of a priest who walks into an empty sanctuary and finds a young man sitting in a chair, with his feet propped up on the communion table.  “Take your feet off that table.  That is a holy table!”
“Where shall I put them?” asked the young man.[4]
In other words, where should he put his feet that wasn’t holy?

In an ancient story in the Hebrew scriptures, Moses is minding his father-in-law’s flocks in the wilderness beneath Mount Horeb when he encounters an angel of the Lord who appears in a flame from a bush that is burning but not being consumed.
Moses hears the voice of God instructing him, “Remove the sandals from your feet, for the ground you are standing on is holy ground.”
The ground on which Moses was standing was wilderness.  The name of the mountain, “Horeb,” simply means “wasteland.”  There was no sanctuary there, no religious shrine, nothing to make it seem extraordinary in any way.  And yet it was “holy ground.”  So I hope that, during Earth Week, we’ll all think and pray about what  makes ground “holy.” 
We can argue about the politics of environmental justice.  There are those who see the environment as another aspect of the “culture wars,”  who would like to label and dismiss people who care about the environment as “liberal” or “tree huggers” or “naïve,” and who say it’s about being “politically correct.” 
But those of us who call ourselves Christians need to take seriously what our faith says about Creation.
The Bible is a powerful witness to the sovereignty and providence and creativity of God—the Holy One who is the Source of all life.   In Psalm 104, which we read responsively today, we have an amazing picture of Creation as the work of God’s love, in which each part is inextricably bound with each other part.  Everything is both dependent on and responsible for every other part. 
Human beings don’t even show up in this psalm until verse 14, and then our role is limited.  We are described as one of the creatures that receives bounty—bread and wine to gladden our hearts, and oil to make our faces shine.  The only other place we show up is toward the end, where the only appropriate response to the wonder of creation is described.  We are to sing praises… to meditate on the exquisite gift of creation…  and to rejoice in God’s abundant providing. 

In Genesis chapter one, the scriptures tell us that when God created the world, God blessed it and called it very good.[5]  God is revealed through the beauty, power, abundance, and mystery of the natural world.  Through wind and flame, water and wilderness, creatures and seasons, God is continually present and active in the world.
Human beings are endowed with reason   and given the responsibility to celebrate and care for Creation.  God’s first command to humanity was given to Adam in Genesis 2:15:  to care for the earth.  Cultivate” and “protect” it.”
Over the years, we allowed the biblical texts to be twisted so that “dominion” came to mean “domination,”    and stewardship came to mean “exploitation.” 
Too many Christians think that we are the center of the universe   and have twisted the gospel of Jesus Christ to mean that God is only interested in saving individual human souls--  rather than all of creation. 

Sociologists like Robert Bellah and theologians like Sally McFague keep reminding us of the degree to which the strong sense of community and the priority of  “the common good” that was foundational in the biblical and republican traditions are no longer shaping life in our society today.   McFague says that, although we continue to live in communities, our motto of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” is usually interpreted these days in personal, individualistic ways, as, for instance, the right to carry a gun or the right to do as you choose, rather than our responsibilities for the welfare of the community.[6]

We don’t all agree on the environmental problem, or the scope or cause of the problem, much less the solution.  But there seems to be a growing consensus that current trends in growth and consumption are not sustainable.

When it comes to the environment, we need an alternative worldview.  We need alternative, faithful ways to know our place in Creation that are not naïve or simplistic.  For instance, recycling is a good thing to do, but efforts by individual and volunteer organizations to recycle will not save the planet. 
As one of my colleagues has said, the issue is too global,  too political,  too economically driven to be resolved by personal piety or individual good intentions.  The issue is ultimately theological—a matter of faith—because it raises the question, “Who owns this place?”[7]  
As persons of faith and as a faith community, our task is to imagine how the world would look if God really is ruling, and then to implement that vision—put it into action.
Theologian Robert Costanza states the challenge this way:  “The creation of a shared vision of a sustainable and desirable society, one that can provide permanent prosperity within the biophysical constraints of the real world in a way that is fair and equitable to all humanity, to other species, and to future generations.”[8]
The key elements here are sustainability and justice.  Sustainability is about recognizing that the earth’s resources are not unlimited, and that any global life-style created on the model of American consumption is suicidal.  Justice demands that we recognize the huge gap—which widens every year—between the haves and have-nots of the earth.

Sally McFague observes that the Greek word for “house” is oikos, which is the root word for “economics” … for “ecology”  …and for “ecumenicity.”   Thus she suggests that caring for the earth is simply a matter of household economics, which leads her to offer three simple rules for our global household.
The first rule, as in any household, is take only your share.  All the cookies are not for you.    My share-- as your share-- is what is needed for a decent life:  food, shelter, medical care, and education.  There is enough for all--  if everybody would share.
Second, clean up after yourself.  The ring in the bathtub is yours.  That’s simple fairness. 
The third rule is:  keep the house in good repair for the children and grandchildren who will come after you.
Take only your share, clean up your own mess, and keep the house in good repair.   It’s a simple vision on a global scale.
But we can’t be simplistic and think this can happen through our good intentions as individuals.  We need a renewed worldview--  because the current one is not working. 
We need a world in which nations have the humility to confer and compromise...  and to sign and honor treaties to work together for global cooperation to work together on environmental and justice issues.  We need national leaders who have a vision for the common good-- in their own nations and beyond their borders…  and who are courageous enough to risk their political popularity for the promise of a viable global future.  We need economists and business leaders who are smart enough to know that it takes more than money to create a harmonious global household. 
We need faith communities—people like us—who know the earth is the Lord’s and that all the earth is holy ground.  We need to commit ourselves to living and proclaiming that alternative vision to our communities and the world.

We live in a broken and fearful world, but we are Easter people who follow the Risen Christ.   We know that we can trust in the power of the Holy Spirit to give us the courage we need to unmask idolatries and to work with others for justice, freedom and peace, for the welfare of all.
So… let us commit ourselves to live more lightly and faithfully on this holy ground, and to care for the earth as a way of worshipping and serving our gracious Creator God!
May it be so for you and for me.
Amen!








[1] Ian Morgan Cron, Chasing Francis: A Pilgrim’s Tale (NavPress, 2006), p. 75.
[2] “Vestigia Dei”
[3] Ibid., p. 2
[4] Quoted by P.C. Enniss in “Holy Ground” at www.goodpreacher.com

[5] Genesis 1:1-31
[6] Sally McFague, Life Abundant: Rethinking Theology and Economy for a Planet in Peril (Fortress, 2001).


[7] P.C. Enniss, “Holy Ground,” in www.goodpreacher.com

[8] Robert Costanza et al, An Introduction to Ecological Economics (1979), quoted in Sallie McFague, Life Abundant.