July 2020
Guest Sermon by Pastor Helen Beth Kuhens
Based on Zechariah 9:9-12, Psalm 145:8-14, and Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
July 5, 2020
Children's Sermon
And now for the children's sermon I want help from the younger ones gathered at home. I want help in remembering a story I first heard... oh so many years ago: the story of Goldilocks and the three bears. In this case there was a mama bear and a daddy bear and baby bear. Goldilocks happened by their lovely little cottage one morning as they had gone for a walk waiting for their porridge to cool a bit. Goldilocks was hungry and so she tried papa bear's porridge, but it was still too hot. Then she tried mamma bear's porridge, but it had cooled off too much. Then she took a bite of baby bear's porridge and it was just right! Next, she tried the chairs. Papa bear's chair was too big. Mamma bear's chair was too rocky, but baby bear's chair was just right! Then she decided she needed a morning nap. Papa bear's bed was too hard. Mamma bear's bed was too soft, but baby bear's bed was just right! And if you want you can draw a picture of Goldilocks asleep and the three bears with great looks of surprise to see her there!
But mostly I want us to remember the JUST RIGHT part of the story.
Perhaps you have seen pictures from pioneer days--long before tractors -- when two oxen are yoked together in a kind of harness so they can share in carrying heavy loads. And it's important that the harness or yoke fit--Just Right--to make it easier to carry the load.
In the Gospel lesson for today you will hear Jesus talk about a harness or yoke that fits--JUST RIGHT.
Message:
Last Sunday's gospel text focused on the wondrous gift of "Welcome" -- and Jesus' encouragement that we be a welcoming community. The closing verses of today's gospel text shorten that word "Welcome" to simply "Come"...
We hear Jesus' welcoming word of gracious invitation: "Come.... Come to me all you that are weary, all you that are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." That little word "rest" in the Hebrew tradition is far more than a " little catnap" or a slight "pause that refreshes"..... though the idea of true refreshment comes close -- Jesus' promise of REST certainly includes --refreshment and renewal . . . I wish to explore with you this morning how the first part of our traditional liturgy.... what we call "The Confession and Forgiveness" is, in a sense, an acting out of our response to Jesus' invitation in today's Gospel: "Come to me and I will give you rest". Jesus' invitation to come to him with our weariness and burdens... to come to him for true and full REST is , indeed, what happens in and through our first act of worship... what in short hand we call "The Confession" To see more fully the connection between Jesus' invitation in today's gospel reading and our traditional confession in the liturgy, I first call attention to what I think is an inadvertant leaving out of essential aspects of what happens in this portion of the liturgy. To speak of it in its entirety, it could be called not only Confession, or Confession & Forgiveness, but -- in addition-- renewal and call to discipleship as well.
With that in mind I encourage you to go back in your bulletin to the beginning of today's worship as we look more deeply at the confession, forgiveness, renewal and call to discipleship in which we have already participated... but to look at it again in light of Jesus call to Rest from Matthew's gospel.
First -- what is called "Confession of Sin", I will re-title: Confession, Forgiveness, Renewal & Calling.
Next, we have the naming of the God who invites us: Blessed be the Holy Trinity. Then, a description of this One God who is full of compassion... and if that isn't enough ... full of both compassion and mercy. In times of confession -- when we, perhaps, feel ourselves the least presentable, we are, rather, to put all fears aside for we are presented to one who is full of compassion, full of compassion AND mercy. The description continues: full of compassion and mercy AND ABOUNDING in STEADFAST LOVE. Yes, this is the nature of the God who invites us: One full of compassion and mercy, abounding in steadfast love! Steadfast love that will not let us go! If we could take in even a portion of the fullness of that description -- we could well stop right here . . . for it is enough to ponder for a life-time! AMEN
BUT, We continue:
Seeking reconciliation with God and our neighbor, let us remember the gift of baptism as we confess our sin.
Remembering the gift of baptism reminds us that even as we name our sins and in need of forgiveness, we are claimed, claimed as God's beloved children. and as we seek reconciliation, wholeness restored, we come to the One whose very nature it is to reconcile... And we continue...
Reconciling God.
We confess that we have sinned against you, against one another, and against the earth entrusted to our care. We are worried and distracted by many things. We fear difference and do not welcome others as you have welcomed us. We are silent in the face of racism and all that separates us from our human siblings.
Thus, we made our confession and then we prayed: So, For the sake of Jesus Christ, have mercy on us. . . .For the sake of Jesus Christ... Jesus...This is the Jesus with outstretched welcoming arms in today's gospel saying: Come. Come to me...
Jesus asks of us three things in this passage: Come. Take my yoke. Learn from me.
And each of these with further explanation: Come. Why? Because I know what troubles you, I know you are ever so weary... and though others may not know the heaviness of your burdens, I do. I know your particular need of my shalom, my peace, my rest.
Come. Take my yoke.
Take my yoke upon you, it fits well your life, your days and your circumstances. It is not "one size fits all!" yoke. No, it is perfectly fashioned with you in mind. It is meant for you in particular with your gifts and your needs, and, thus, it fits you well. It is not too big, nor too small.... No, it is Just Right. Just Right for you. And it's intended to make all your burdens light. But most of all, we can hear Jesus say --most of all remember: I am yoked with you. You do not carry your burden alone.
Yes, Come. Take my yoke. And Learn from me.
Why? because I am a gentle and humble teacher. I come to you right where you are ... in all the messiness & beauty, in all the confusion and wonder of your days and together we go on from there to do the healing and reconciling work your heart, your home, your community, your world cry out for.
And dear Friends, that is what we asked for, is it not when we prayed: Forgive us. Renew us. And lead us that we may delight in your will and walk in your ways ... Perhaps we can hear the intent of forgiveness, renewal and leading if we add one little word: so...so that...Forgive us. Renew us and lead us (yoke with us) SO THAT we may delight in your will and walk in your ways!
AMEN
And now for the children's sermon I want help from the younger ones gathered at home. I want help in remembering a story I first heard... oh so many years ago: the story of Goldilocks and the three bears. In this case there was a mama bear and a daddy bear and baby bear. Goldilocks happened by their lovely little cottage one morning as they had gone for a walk waiting for their porridge to cool a bit. Goldilocks was hungry and so she tried papa bear's porridge, but it was still too hot. Then she tried mamma bear's porridge, but it had cooled off too much. Then she took a bite of baby bear's porridge and it was just right! Next, she tried the chairs. Papa bear's chair was too big. Mamma bear's chair was too rocky, but baby bear's chair was just right! Then she decided she needed a morning nap. Papa bear's bed was too hard. Mamma bear's bed was too soft, but baby bear's bed was just right! And if you want you can draw a picture of Goldilocks asleep and the three bears with great looks of surprise to see her there!
But mostly I want us to remember the JUST RIGHT part of the story.
Perhaps you have seen pictures from pioneer days--long before tractors -- when two oxen are yoked together in a kind of harness so they can share in carrying heavy loads. And it's important that the harness or yoke fit--Just Right--to make it easier to carry the load.
In the Gospel lesson for today you will hear Jesus talk about a harness or yoke that fits--JUST RIGHT.
Message:
Last Sunday's gospel text focused on the wondrous gift of "Welcome" -- and Jesus' encouragement that we be a welcoming community. The closing verses of today's gospel text shorten that word "Welcome" to simply "Come"...
We hear Jesus' welcoming word of gracious invitation: "Come.... Come to me all you that are weary, all you that are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." That little word "rest" in the Hebrew tradition is far more than a " little catnap" or a slight "pause that refreshes"..... though the idea of true refreshment comes close -- Jesus' promise of REST certainly includes --refreshment and renewal . . . I wish to explore with you this morning how the first part of our traditional liturgy.... what we call "The Confession and Forgiveness" is, in a sense, an acting out of our response to Jesus' invitation in today's Gospel: "Come to me and I will give you rest". Jesus' invitation to come to him with our weariness and burdens... to come to him for true and full REST is , indeed, what happens in and through our first act of worship... what in short hand we call "The Confession" To see more fully the connection between Jesus' invitation in today's gospel reading and our traditional confession in the liturgy, I first call attention to what I think is an inadvertant leaving out of essential aspects of what happens in this portion of the liturgy. To speak of it in its entirety, it could be called not only Confession, or Confession & Forgiveness, but -- in addition-- renewal and call to discipleship as well.
With that in mind I encourage you to go back in your bulletin to the beginning of today's worship as we look more deeply at the confession, forgiveness, renewal and call to discipleship in which we have already participated... but to look at it again in light of Jesus call to Rest from Matthew's gospel.
First -- what is called "Confession of Sin", I will re-title: Confession, Forgiveness, Renewal & Calling.
Next, we have the naming of the God who invites us: Blessed be the Holy Trinity. Then, a description of this One God who is full of compassion... and if that isn't enough ... full of both compassion and mercy. In times of confession -- when we, perhaps, feel ourselves the least presentable, we are, rather, to put all fears aside for we are presented to one who is full of compassion, full of compassion AND mercy. The description continues: full of compassion and mercy AND ABOUNDING in STEADFAST LOVE. Yes, this is the nature of the God who invites us: One full of compassion and mercy, abounding in steadfast love! Steadfast love that will not let us go! If we could take in even a portion of the fullness of that description -- we could well stop right here . . . for it is enough to ponder for a life-time! AMEN
BUT, We continue:
Seeking reconciliation with God and our neighbor, let us remember the gift of baptism as we confess our sin.
Remembering the gift of baptism reminds us that even as we name our sins and in need of forgiveness, we are claimed, claimed as God's beloved children. and as we seek reconciliation, wholeness restored, we come to the One whose very nature it is to reconcile... And we continue...
Reconciling God.
We confess that we have sinned against you, against one another, and against the earth entrusted to our care. We are worried and distracted by many things. We fear difference and do not welcome others as you have welcomed us. We are silent in the face of racism and all that separates us from our human siblings.
Thus, we made our confession and then we prayed: So, For the sake of Jesus Christ, have mercy on us. . . .For the sake of Jesus Christ... Jesus...This is the Jesus with outstretched welcoming arms in today's gospel saying: Come. Come to me...
Jesus asks of us three things in this passage: Come. Take my yoke. Learn from me.
And each of these with further explanation: Come. Why? Because I know what troubles you, I know you are ever so weary... and though others may not know the heaviness of your burdens, I do. I know your particular need of my shalom, my peace, my rest.
Come. Take my yoke.
Take my yoke upon you, it fits well your life, your days and your circumstances. It is not "one size fits all!" yoke. No, it is perfectly fashioned with you in mind. It is meant for you in particular with your gifts and your needs, and, thus, it fits you well. It is not too big, nor too small.... No, it is Just Right. Just Right for you. And it's intended to make all your burdens light. But most of all, we can hear Jesus say --most of all remember: I am yoked with you. You do not carry your burden alone.
Yes, Come. Take my yoke. And Learn from me.
Why? because I am a gentle and humble teacher. I come to you right where you are ... in all the messiness & beauty, in all the confusion and wonder of your days and together we go on from there to do the healing and reconciling work your heart, your home, your community, your world cry out for.
And dear Friends, that is what we asked for, is it not when we prayed: Forgive us. Renew us. And lead us that we may delight in your will and walk in your ways ... Perhaps we can hear the intent of forgiveness, renewal and leading if we add one little word: so...so that...Forgive us. Renew us and lead us (yoke with us) SO THAT we may delight in your will and walk in your ways!
AMEN
"Seeds of Grace"
Based on Matthew 13:1-9 (reading at the end of the sermon)
July 12, 2020
Once upon a time, there was an elderly Chinese woman who had two large pots. Each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck. Every morning, the old woman walked with the two pots balanced on her shoulders to a stream about an hour from her home to collect the water she needed for cooking and cleaning.
There she filled the two pots. One of the pots was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. But the other pot had a small crack that slowly leaked. So, by the time the woman arrived back home, the cracked pot was only half full. And the women ended up with just one and a half pots of water.
Of course, the perfect pot was quite proud of its work. But the cracked pot was embarrassed by its own imperfection, and unhappy that it could do only half as much as the other pot.
One day, after months of what felt like bitter failure, the cracked pot spoke to the woman. “I am ashamed of myself,” the pot said, “because this crack of mine causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.”
The old woman smiled and said to the pot, “Haven’t you noticed that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I’ve always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.
“For the past months,” the woman shared, “I’ve been able to pick beautiful flowers to decorate my dinner table each day. Without you being just the way you are, I wouldn’t have this beauty to grace my house. So, little pot, don’t be ashamed of your crack. Your imperfection has brought me great joy.”
This story reminds me that none of us is perfect. And that despite and sometimes even because of our personal flaws, weaknesses, and failures, goodness can grow out of our imperfections. That what you and I see as personal, ugly cracks can give strength and happiness to others.
When I read the parable in today’s Gospel lesson, I see a similar message. Though that’s not how this parable traditionally has been interpreted. Many pastors see this story of the sower and the seeds as an allegory for Christian belief versus doubt.
To them, the seeds that land on the path and snatched up by hungry birds represent believers who let the devil take away their faith. The seeds that fall on the rocky soil or among thorns are those who initially believe, but when trouble comes along, they’re overcome by doubt. The seeds that end up in the good soil are the true believers, whom God will bless a hundredfold with earthly success and eternal life.
In fact, that is exactly the interpretation the writer of Matthew gives us in the verses after this reading. Which are assigned to be read with this parable, but I intentionally left out. I left them out, because some biblical scholars suggest they were added by the Gospel writer in light of persecution that early Christians faced towards the end of the first century AD.
Those scholars suggest that Jesus probably had something different in mind when he first told this parable. Though today it’s difficult to see that original meaning through the fog of hundreds of years of Christian history and theology.
When Jesus told this story, he was talking about the Kingdom of God—or the Kingdom of Heaven (as Matthew calls it, because Matthew was seeing things from a Jewish perspective, and Jews avoided using names for God in their writings.)
So, even though Matthew’s version uses the word “heaven,” I don’t believe Jesus was thinking about the Kingdom of Heaven only as a promise for life after death.
For Jesus, the Kingdom of Heaven—the Kingdom of God—was something that happens now in the hearts and lives of those who follow Jesus. The Kingdom of God was not a binary system that rewarded good people and punished bad people. Even though a lot of us grew up in churches where preachers told us exactly that.
One step to start seeing this parable in a new way, is to think about the sower in this story. In Jesus’ time, farmers sowed their seeds by hand. Many were poor. Few owned their own farms. There were no fancy tractors or combines or fertilizer or irrigation systems. Just the planting of seeds and manual labor. You were at the mercy of weather and luck.
But what happened to those seeds had nothing to do with their goodness or badness. Nothing to do with morality or ethics. Nothing to do with genetics or environment. And everything to do with undeserved grace.
At this Thursday’s pandemic art show that our church did in front of the Temple Beth El Synagogue, I noticed that a quilted table runner sewn by Naomi (one of our members) had the words, “To plant a seed is a hopeful deed.” Farmers know the truth of that saying. For sometimes, somehow, a crop’s yield far exceeds a farmer’s wildest expectations.
And grace is like that. Grace brings surprise when you least expect it. Grace overcomes the greatest barriers with resilience. Grace defies our self-doubts and fear with courage.
That same grace can open our eyes to see things we never saw before in our lives or society. Like white privilege and unjust systems for people of color. And high rates of suicide among queer youth.
Grace is what moves us toward change. Grace makes the Kingdom of Heaven grow in our world today.
A little over a decade ago, the Catholic monk Thomas Merton reflected about today’s parable in his book, New Seeds of Contemplation,* where he writes:
“Every moment and every event of every person’s life on earth plants something in [their] soul. For just as the wind carries thousands of winged seeds, so each moment brings with it germs of spiritual vitality that come to rest imperceptibly in the minds and wills of [individuals.] Most of these unnumbered seeds perish and are lost, for such seeds… cannot spring up anywhere except in the… soil of freedom, spontaneity and love.”
Merton is inviting us to consider that Jesus’ parable of the Sower is not just about the occasional moment when a preacher sows a seed about God. Rather, everything at every moment of our lives is a seed infused with God’s life-giving grace.
Grace happens because seeds of experience are always being sown around us and within us. Despite our narrow visions, or awkward mistakes, or the cracks that are part of all of our lives. Grace happens despite all that.
Like hope in the face of disease and death. Like love in the face of racism and homophobia. Live gentle kindness in the face of hatred and condemnation.
Seeds of grace that bring the Kingdom of Heaven where it’s least expected. Even when we feel unworthy. And weary in our daily journey.
And all we have to do is plant and watch and wait. To see what grows in our hearts, and along our pathways in this world. Amen.
-------------------------------
* Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (New Directions Publishing, 2007).
+ + +
GOSPEL READING: Matthew 13:1-9
1That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. 2Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. 3And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. 4And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. 5Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. 6But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. 7Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. 8Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. 9Let anyone with ears listen!”
There she filled the two pots. One of the pots was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. But the other pot had a small crack that slowly leaked. So, by the time the woman arrived back home, the cracked pot was only half full. And the women ended up with just one and a half pots of water.
Of course, the perfect pot was quite proud of its work. But the cracked pot was embarrassed by its own imperfection, and unhappy that it could do only half as much as the other pot.
One day, after months of what felt like bitter failure, the cracked pot spoke to the woman. “I am ashamed of myself,” the pot said, “because this crack of mine causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.”
The old woman smiled and said to the pot, “Haven’t you noticed that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I’ve always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.
“For the past months,” the woman shared, “I’ve been able to pick beautiful flowers to decorate my dinner table each day. Without you being just the way you are, I wouldn’t have this beauty to grace my house. So, little pot, don’t be ashamed of your crack. Your imperfection has brought me great joy.”
This story reminds me that none of us is perfect. And that despite and sometimes even because of our personal flaws, weaknesses, and failures, goodness can grow out of our imperfections. That what you and I see as personal, ugly cracks can give strength and happiness to others.
When I read the parable in today’s Gospel lesson, I see a similar message. Though that’s not how this parable traditionally has been interpreted. Many pastors see this story of the sower and the seeds as an allegory for Christian belief versus doubt.
To them, the seeds that land on the path and snatched up by hungry birds represent believers who let the devil take away their faith. The seeds that fall on the rocky soil or among thorns are those who initially believe, but when trouble comes along, they’re overcome by doubt. The seeds that end up in the good soil are the true believers, whom God will bless a hundredfold with earthly success and eternal life.
In fact, that is exactly the interpretation the writer of Matthew gives us in the verses after this reading. Which are assigned to be read with this parable, but I intentionally left out. I left them out, because some biblical scholars suggest they were added by the Gospel writer in light of persecution that early Christians faced towards the end of the first century AD.
Those scholars suggest that Jesus probably had something different in mind when he first told this parable. Though today it’s difficult to see that original meaning through the fog of hundreds of years of Christian history and theology.
When Jesus told this story, he was talking about the Kingdom of God—or the Kingdom of Heaven (as Matthew calls it, because Matthew was seeing things from a Jewish perspective, and Jews avoided using names for God in their writings.)
So, even though Matthew’s version uses the word “heaven,” I don’t believe Jesus was thinking about the Kingdom of Heaven only as a promise for life after death.
For Jesus, the Kingdom of Heaven—the Kingdom of God—was something that happens now in the hearts and lives of those who follow Jesus. The Kingdom of God was not a binary system that rewarded good people and punished bad people. Even though a lot of us grew up in churches where preachers told us exactly that.
One step to start seeing this parable in a new way, is to think about the sower in this story. In Jesus’ time, farmers sowed their seeds by hand. Many were poor. Few owned their own farms. There were no fancy tractors or combines or fertilizer or irrigation systems. Just the planting of seeds and manual labor. You were at the mercy of weather and luck.
But what happened to those seeds had nothing to do with their goodness or badness. Nothing to do with morality or ethics. Nothing to do with genetics or environment. And everything to do with undeserved grace.
At this Thursday’s pandemic art show that our church did in front of the Temple Beth El Synagogue, I noticed that a quilted table runner sewn by Naomi (one of our members) had the words, “To plant a seed is a hopeful deed.” Farmers know the truth of that saying. For sometimes, somehow, a crop’s yield far exceeds a farmer’s wildest expectations.
And grace is like that. Grace brings surprise when you least expect it. Grace overcomes the greatest barriers with resilience. Grace defies our self-doubts and fear with courage.
That same grace can open our eyes to see things we never saw before in our lives or society. Like white privilege and unjust systems for people of color. And high rates of suicide among queer youth.
Grace is what moves us toward change. Grace makes the Kingdom of Heaven grow in our world today.
A little over a decade ago, the Catholic monk Thomas Merton reflected about today’s parable in his book, New Seeds of Contemplation,* where he writes:
“Every moment and every event of every person’s life on earth plants something in [their] soul. For just as the wind carries thousands of winged seeds, so each moment brings with it germs of spiritual vitality that come to rest imperceptibly in the minds and wills of [individuals.] Most of these unnumbered seeds perish and are lost, for such seeds… cannot spring up anywhere except in the… soil of freedom, spontaneity and love.”
Merton is inviting us to consider that Jesus’ parable of the Sower is not just about the occasional moment when a preacher sows a seed about God. Rather, everything at every moment of our lives is a seed infused with God’s life-giving grace.
Grace happens because seeds of experience are always being sown around us and within us. Despite our narrow visions, or awkward mistakes, or the cracks that are part of all of our lives. Grace happens despite all that.
Like hope in the face of disease and death. Like love in the face of racism and homophobia. Live gentle kindness in the face of hatred and condemnation.
Seeds of grace that bring the Kingdom of Heaven where it’s least expected. Even when we feel unworthy. And weary in our daily journey.
And all we have to do is plant and watch and wait. To see what grows in our hearts, and along our pathways in this world. Amen.
-------------------------------
* Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (New Directions Publishing, 2007).
+ + +
GOSPEL READING: Matthew 13:1-9
1That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. 2Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. 3And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. 4And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. 5Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. 6But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. 7Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. 8Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. 9Let anyone with ears listen!”
"Pesky Weeds"
Based on Matthew 13:24-30 (reading at the end of the sermon)
July 19, 2020
I hate weeds. Despise them. Detest them. If you’re a gardener, you probably do, too.
Last Monday morning on my day off, I decided to do some weeding. My husband Charlie is off work this summer, so he’s done a lot of that. So, I assumed there wouldn’t be much for me to do.
Wrong! We have a big backyard, so I started by my rain garden along the east fence. And spent the next three hours pulling up seed trees, yanking out quack grass and hoeing other pesky weeds.
Many gardeners use chemicals to kill weeds. Farmers use herbicides and genetically modified corn and soybeans that keep invasive species at bay. But Roundup and similar products also kill things like milkweed and other native plants that serve as food for butterflies and bees.
Charlie and I don’t use many chemicals on our grass. So, unlike many of our neighbors manicured lawns, each spring our yard produces a crop of beautiful yellow dandelions. We do this because years ago, our next-door neighbor in Minneapolis sent out an email asking people not to use pesticides. Therese’s little boy Josh died of a rare cancer. And she was convinced that lawn chemicals have negative health effects on humans and pets.
So, Charlie and I battle our pesky weeds mostly with our hands and backs and sweat.
Today’s Gospel lesson is another story about pesky weeds. It’s often called the parable of the wheat and the tares. Tares are a weed called darnel—a weed that looks exactly like wheat in its early stages.
Modern agricultural techniques have almost eliminated darnel but it still hides among crops in some areas. One study found it made up ten percent of a wheat harvest in Ethiopia.
So, the story Jesus tells was a familiar one for the people of that time. Darnel was the curse of any wheat farmer.
Most preachers interpret this parable as an allegory about Christians and non-Christians. In fact, that’s exactly the interpretation given by the writer of Matthew in the verses after this reading. Which are assigned to be read with this parable, but I left them out, just like I did last week.
I think letting this parable stand alone without any interpretation helps us hear it just as a story. Just like the original people heard Jesus tell it. Of course, no matter how we try, we can’t see it exactly the way they did.
Like many of Jesus’s parables, this one has a surprising twist. With a couple points missed by most Christians today. First, the farmer who sows the seed is not God or Jesus. The farmer is a wealthy landowner. Back then, wheat was the crop of the rich. Poor people raised barley—a less nutritious grain worth half the price of wheat. So, the farm workers weren’t raising food for themselves or their hungry children.
Secondly, the farmer was a slave owner. The original Greek text for this passage makes it clear the laborers are slaves.
During the time of Jesus, many Jews lost their farms due to the Roman empire and its taxation. Peasants and their families often became indentured servants, forced to raise crops for their oppressors. The owner here might have been a wealthy politician who benefited from the current situation.
Of course, we white Christians like to ignore the socio-economic details of this parable. We think this story is about good wheat versus pesky weeds. About believers versus nonbelievers.
Not about rich versus poor. Not about the oppressor versus the enslaved. Not about the powerful versus the disenfranchised. Not about white versus black.
But the people of Jesus’s day hear a different story. For them, this parable carries a subversive message not obvious to those in power. I can imagine a Galilean peasant crowd listening to this parable who immediately understood what Jesus was talking about. Chuckling together at the wealthy master’s dilemma.
The slaves let the owner believe that an enemy planted the pesky weeds. But the listeners knew the true culprit. That the slaves themselves must have planted those seeds.
Sabotage is not an uncommon tactic for those living within systems of oppression. When you can’t openly confront your oppressor, you can still find ways to passively resist.
Remember the 2011 movie “The Help”? Where Minny (played by Octavia Spencer) is a black maid in the civil-rights-era South. In one unforgettable scene, Minny exacts her revenge or being unjustly fired by serving her former boss, Miss Hilly, a special version of her famous chocolate pie with one very unappetizing ingredient. And when Minny says, “Eat my sh*t!”, Miss Hilly realizes in horror that she has just done exactly that.
A prank that brought Minny great joy. A brief moment of liberation. Laughing in the face of powerlessness.
So, is that the true meaning of Jesus’s parable? That the Kingdom of God—or the “Kingdom of Heaven” as Matthew calls it—is like slaves who secretly defy their oppressor? Putting a spoke in the wheels of power, leading to unpredictable results.
Like a seed sown in the dark of night. Like an immigrant who moves into a “good neighborhood.” Like a woman who shatters the glass ceiling. Like a Native American elected to political office. Pesky weeds with deep roots.
Is that what this parable is about? That Jesus is telling us to look beyond how most people see this story. And to see how the Kingdom of God is so radical, so inclusive, so invasive, that it might even disrupt systems that have held power for decades and centuries.
For the past couple weeks, I’ve been participating in an anti-racism book club started by Kylie Oversen. About 250 local people are reading the book White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo. My small group meets on Tuesdays on Zoom.
In chapter 2 of her book, DiAngelo talks about the pervasiveness of racism in our society, much of which seems invisible to most of us white people. She refers to the metaphor of a birdcage to describe the interconnecting forces of oppression. She writes:
“If you stand close to a birdcage…, your perception of the bars will disappear and you will have an almost unobstructed view of the bird…. If your understanding of the cage is based on this myopic view, you may not understand why the bird doesn’t just… fly away. You might even assume that the bird liked or chose its place in the cage. But if you stepped back and took a wider view, you… see that the wires come together in an interlocking pattern—a pattern that works to hold the bird firmly in place. It now becomes clear that a network of systematically related barriers surrounds the bird. Taken individually, none of these barriers would be that difficult for the bird to get around, but because they interlock with each other, they thoroughly restrict the bird. While some birds may escape from the cage, most will not.” *
The birdcage metaphor is meant to help us understand why racism is so hard to see. For we have a distorted view. We miss the wires.
Today, I believe Jesus is calling us as Christians—especially us white Christians—to do much more to see and change the pervasive evil of racism in our Church, society and government.
To become pesky weeds that rise up. To challenge beliefs of so much of what’s growing around us. We do this because we believe that every single seed—even the pesky weed—is a beloved child of God.
And we, in love, seek to set all people free. Amen.
---------------------------------------------------
* Robin DiAngelo, White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism (Boston, Beacon Press, 2018); p. 23.
+ + +
GOSPEL READING: Matthew 13:24-30
Jesus put before the crowds another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field. But while everybody was asleep, [someone] came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest. And at harvest time I will tell the reapers, ‘Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”
Last Monday morning on my day off, I decided to do some weeding. My husband Charlie is off work this summer, so he’s done a lot of that. So, I assumed there wouldn’t be much for me to do.
Wrong! We have a big backyard, so I started by my rain garden along the east fence. And spent the next three hours pulling up seed trees, yanking out quack grass and hoeing other pesky weeds.
Many gardeners use chemicals to kill weeds. Farmers use herbicides and genetically modified corn and soybeans that keep invasive species at bay. But Roundup and similar products also kill things like milkweed and other native plants that serve as food for butterflies and bees.
Charlie and I don’t use many chemicals on our grass. So, unlike many of our neighbors manicured lawns, each spring our yard produces a crop of beautiful yellow dandelions. We do this because years ago, our next-door neighbor in Minneapolis sent out an email asking people not to use pesticides. Therese’s little boy Josh died of a rare cancer. And she was convinced that lawn chemicals have negative health effects on humans and pets.
So, Charlie and I battle our pesky weeds mostly with our hands and backs and sweat.
Today’s Gospel lesson is another story about pesky weeds. It’s often called the parable of the wheat and the tares. Tares are a weed called darnel—a weed that looks exactly like wheat in its early stages.
Modern agricultural techniques have almost eliminated darnel but it still hides among crops in some areas. One study found it made up ten percent of a wheat harvest in Ethiopia.
So, the story Jesus tells was a familiar one for the people of that time. Darnel was the curse of any wheat farmer.
Most preachers interpret this parable as an allegory about Christians and non-Christians. In fact, that’s exactly the interpretation given by the writer of Matthew in the verses after this reading. Which are assigned to be read with this parable, but I left them out, just like I did last week.
I think letting this parable stand alone without any interpretation helps us hear it just as a story. Just like the original people heard Jesus tell it. Of course, no matter how we try, we can’t see it exactly the way they did.
Like many of Jesus’s parables, this one has a surprising twist. With a couple points missed by most Christians today. First, the farmer who sows the seed is not God or Jesus. The farmer is a wealthy landowner. Back then, wheat was the crop of the rich. Poor people raised barley—a less nutritious grain worth half the price of wheat. So, the farm workers weren’t raising food for themselves or their hungry children.
Secondly, the farmer was a slave owner. The original Greek text for this passage makes it clear the laborers are slaves.
During the time of Jesus, many Jews lost their farms due to the Roman empire and its taxation. Peasants and their families often became indentured servants, forced to raise crops for their oppressors. The owner here might have been a wealthy politician who benefited from the current situation.
Of course, we white Christians like to ignore the socio-economic details of this parable. We think this story is about good wheat versus pesky weeds. About believers versus nonbelievers.
Not about rich versus poor. Not about the oppressor versus the enslaved. Not about the powerful versus the disenfranchised. Not about white versus black.
But the people of Jesus’s day hear a different story. For them, this parable carries a subversive message not obvious to those in power. I can imagine a Galilean peasant crowd listening to this parable who immediately understood what Jesus was talking about. Chuckling together at the wealthy master’s dilemma.
The slaves let the owner believe that an enemy planted the pesky weeds. But the listeners knew the true culprit. That the slaves themselves must have planted those seeds.
Sabotage is not an uncommon tactic for those living within systems of oppression. When you can’t openly confront your oppressor, you can still find ways to passively resist.
Remember the 2011 movie “The Help”? Where Minny (played by Octavia Spencer) is a black maid in the civil-rights-era South. In one unforgettable scene, Minny exacts her revenge or being unjustly fired by serving her former boss, Miss Hilly, a special version of her famous chocolate pie with one very unappetizing ingredient. And when Minny says, “Eat my sh*t!”, Miss Hilly realizes in horror that she has just done exactly that.
A prank that brought Minny great joy. A brief moment of liberation. Laughing in the face of powerlessness.
So, is that the true meaning of Jesus’s parable? That the Kingdom of God—or the “Kingdom of Heaven” as Matthew calls it—is like slaves who secretly defy their oppressor? Putting a spoke in the wheels of power, leading to unpredictable results.
Like a seed sown in the dark of night. Like an immigrant who moves into a “good neighborhood.” Like a woman who shatters the glass ceiling. Like a Native American elected to political office. Pesky weeds with deep roots.
Is that what this parable is about? That Jesus is telling us to look beyond how most people see this story. And to see how the Kingdom of God is so radical, so inclusive, so invasive, that it might even disrupt systems that have held power for decades and centuries.
For the past couple weeks, I’ve been participating in an anti-racism book club started by Kylie Oversen. About 250 local people are reading the book White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo. My small group meets on Tuesdays on Zoom.
In chapter 2 of her book, DiAngelo talks about the pervasiveness of racism in our society, much of which seems invisible to most of us white people. She refers to the metaphor of a birdcage to describe the interconnecting forces of oppression. She writes:
“If you stand close to a birdcage…, your perception of the bars will disappear and you will have an almost unobstructed view of the bird…. If your understanding of the cage is based on this myopic view, you may not understand why the bird doesn’t just… fly away. You might even assume that the bird liked or chose its place in the cage. But if you stepped back and took a wider view, you… see that the wires come together in an interlocking pattern—a pattern that works to hold the bird firmly in place. It now becomes clear that a network of systematically related barriers surrounds the bird. Taken individually, none of these barriers would be that difficult for the bird to get around, but because they interlock with each other, they thoroughly restrict the bird. While some birds may escape from the cage, most will not.” *
The birdcage metaphor is meant to help us understand why racism is so hard to see. For we have a distorted view. We miss the wires.
Today, I believe Jesus is calling us as Christians—especially us white Christians—to do much more to see and change the pervasive evil of racism in our Church, society and government.
To become pesky weeds that rise up. To challenge beliefs of so much of what’s growing around us. We do this because we believe that every single seed—even the pesky weed—is a beloved child of God.
And we, in love, seek to set all people free. Amen.
---------------------------------------------------
* Robin DiAngelo, White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism (Boston, Beacon Press, 2018); p. 23.
+ + +
GOSPEL READING: Matthew 13:24-30
Jesus put before the crowds another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field. But while everybody was asleep, [someone] came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest. And at harvest time I will tell the reapers, ‘Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”
"The Leaven Lady"
Based on Matthew 13:31-33, 44-46 (reading at the end of the sermon)
July 26, 2020
When I was in high school, I worked in a grocery store in my hometown of Dassel. One of my coworkers was a woman named Violet. Violet loved to chat and laugh.
From the moment she arrived at the store until she left, Violet never stopped talking. Which for a shy kid like me, helped to fill the quiet gaps in conversation.
Like many teenagers, I viewed anyone over the age of 40 as old. Violet was in her 70s. Which in my youthful eyes seemed ancient.
But Violet was still working. In fact, she had two jobs. Violet only worked at the grocery store on Saturdays. Her weekday job was at what everybody called the yeast factory, located on the northern edge of town. I always assumed they only made yeast there. We sold little packets of yeast at the grocery store.
Years later, I was surprised to learn how the yeast factory also did something else. Back in the 1930s, a Dassel businessman named Lester Peel was the factory manager. The yeast they manufactured was used as an additive in animal feed.
Lester discovered that local farmers were discarding ergot-infested grain to avoid contaminating their products. Ergot is a plant disease caused by a fungus that infects developing grain. It becomes visible when ergot bodies are formed in place of kernels—looking like dark purple heads on the wheat.
Years before, scientists had discovered that drugs produced from ergot stop bleeding in patients and reduce symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Two major issues affecting soldiers in battle.
Before World War II, The United States imported ergot from Europe, where children gathered it in fields. But, as the war raged on, that source went away.
And that’s when Lester realized there was a new market for ergot. So, he created a business called Universal Laboratories to fill that void. It operated out of the yeast factory.
Dassel farmers brought their contaminated wheat to the factory, where it was loaded onto conveyor belts. There female employees sat for hours picking out the good grain by hand, leaving the ergot kernels on the belt.
Women did the work because of their manual dexterity. My coworker Violet was one of a dozen ladies employed by the factory. It was a great job for her. Violet, the great talker, enjoyed chatting all day with her friends while they worked side by side.
And even though I used to think she was just making yeast, Violet was more than a leaven lady. Surprisingly, what she was doing much more significant. She was helping to save lives.
Today’s Gospel lesson includes another yeast story. At first glance, it looks like just a story about a woman who mixes together yeast and flour to bake bread for her family. An everyday activity for women at the time of Jesus.
But like many of Jesus’s parables, there’s something here that most people miss. Something that puts a little twist in the story. Something surprising.
Most preachers interpret this parable similar to how they interpret the parable of the mustard seed in this passage. That the Kingdom of God—or “Kingdom of Heaven” as Matthew calls it—starts out small, but grows exponentially. A parable often applied to evangelism and church growth.
But I think that Jesus’s parables often have a more radical and sometimes even subversive meaning. That often Jesus is seeking to challenge the religious status quo. That often Jesus is saying to us, “God is not what you think.”
I believe this seemingly simple story about baking bread would have raised questions for those who heard it originally.
First, the Jewish community to which Jesus belonged would have been surprised by his use of yeast and rising bread as a metaphor for the Kingdom of God.
Each year, during preparations for Passover or “Pesach” in Hebrew, Jewish woman cleaned their kitchens and homes from top to bottom to make sure no “chametz” or leavened products remained.
During Passover, many Jews eat only unleavened bread—the bread that the Jewish people baked the night before Moses led them out of bondage in Egypt. Unleavened bread is a symbol of what God did for them.
Leaven, on the other hand, is sometimes used in Hebrew scripture as well as rabbinic writings to represent human evil and corruption. Something undesired that spreads out of control, like an invasive cancer or COVID-19.
The second surprising element of Jesus’ parable is the woman herself. For while women in first-century Jewish society were probably better off than in other cultures of the ancient world, they were still considered second-rate citizens, subject to the will of their father or husband. Added to that is the fact that she would have been a Middle Eastern, Jewish woman of color.
Throughout the gospels, Jesus treats women with extraordinary respect and compassion. But this parable goes ones step further. For when Jesus depicts this woman as the symbol of God’s kingdom, many of his listeners would have a hard time seeing beyond their preconceived biases about her.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been participating in an anti-racism book club that’s reading White Fragility, by Robin DiAngelo. This week, my small group talked about “implicit bias,” which is defined as the unconscious bias against people of color that permeates our society. DiAngelo talks about how the mainstream definition of a racist person is always an individual who consciously doesn’t like people based on race and intentionally seeks to hurt them.
Which, as she says, leads to the belief that “you [cannot] be a good person and participate in racism; only bad people [are] racist.” * Because of that assumption, we as white Christians are hesitant to admit our own implicit biases, which makes it easier to deny the realities of racism.
Today, Jesus’ parable calls us to open our eyes to see our personal and societal preconceptions. To be a church that strives to see beyond our white culture and unspoken beliefs about people. To talk with one another openly about these issues.
The last thing I want to point out about this parable is also the thing that’s most surprising. A detail most Christians overlook. Jesus tells us the woman takes three “measures” of flour. The original Greek says three “strata,” which today would be just over a bushel, or a 40-pound bag.
If you’re a bread baker, you know that’s a lot of flour. It would require a 100-quart Hobart mixer with a giant dough hook to prepare it. After several hours of baking, your kitchen would be filled with 50 loaves of bread. Enough to make 400 sandwiches.
In other words, this woman was baking an enormous quantity of bread. A loving mother who wants to do more than just feed her family. A leaven lady ready to serve her entire village.
I believe Jesus is telling us that the Kingdom of God is like a woman who wants to feed a hungry world. The meal and its leftovers are for everyone. All are welcome at God’s great feast.
A story of grace that’s so incredible, so surprising, so inclusive, so beyond what we imagine, that it shatters our lowered expectations. And defies our limited vision.
To make us see that the Kingdom of God is the greatest gift we can receive. And the most gracious gift we can give. Amen.
-----------------------------------------
* Robin DiAngelo, White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism (Boston, Beacon Press, 2018), p. 71.
+ + +
GOSPEL LESSON: Matthew 13:31-33,44-46
Jesus put before the crowds another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.” He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; On finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”
From the moment she arrived at the store until she left, Violet never stopped talking. Which for a shy kid like me, helped to fill the quiet gaps in conversation.
Like many teenagers, I viewed anyone over the age of 40 as old. Violet was in her 70s. Which in my youthful eyes seemed ancient.
But Violet was still working. In fact, she had two jobs. Violet only worked at the grocery store on Saturdays. Her weekday job was at what everybody called the yeast factory, located on the northern edge of town. I always assumed they only made yeast there. We sold little packets of yeast at the grocery store.
Years later, I was surprised to learn how the yeast factory also did something else. Back in the 1930s, a Dassel businessman named Lester Peel was the factory manager. The yeast they manufactured was used as an additive in animal feed.
Lester discovered that local farmers were discarding ergot-infested grain to avoid contaminating their products. Ergot is a plant disease caused by a fungus that infects developing grain. It becomes visible when ergot bodies are formed in place of kernels—looking like dark purple heads on the wheat.
Years before, scientists had discovered that drugs produced from ergot stop bleeding in patients and reduce symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Two major issues affecting soldiers in battle.
Before World War II, The United States imported ergot from Europe, where children gathered it in fields. But, as the war raged on, that source went away.
And that’s when Lester realized there was a new market for ergot. So, he created a business called Universal Laboratories to fill that void. It operated out of the yeast factory.
Dassel farmers brought their contaminated wheat to the factory, where it was loaded onto conveyor belts. There female employees sat for hours picking out the good grain by hand, leaving the ergot kernels on the belt.
Women did the work because of their manual dexterity. My coworker Violet was one of a dozen ladies employed by the factory. It was a great job for her. Violet, the great talker, enjoyed chatting all day with her friends while they worked side by side.
And even though I used to think she was just making yeast, Violet was more than a leaven lady. Surprisingly, what she was doing much more significant. She was helping to save lives.
Today’s Gospel lesson includes another yeast story. At first glance, it looks like just a story about a woman who mixes together yeast and flour to bake bread for her family. An everyday activity for women at the time of Jesus.
But like many of Jesus’s parables, there’s something here that most people miss. Something that puts a little twist in the story. Something surprising.
Most preachers interpret this parable similar to how they interpret the parable of the mustard seed in this passage. That the Kingdom of God—or “Kingdom of Heaven” as Matthew calls it—starts out small, but grows exponentially. A parable often applied to evangelism and church growth.
But I think that Jesus’s parables often have a more radical and sometimes even subversive meaning. That often Jesus is seeking to challenge the religious status quo. That often Jesus is saying to us, “God is not what you think.”
I believe this seemingly simple story about baking bread would have raised questions for those who heard it originally.
First, the Jewish community to which Jesus belonged would have been surprised by his use of yeast and rising bread as a metaphor for the Kingdom of God.
Each year, during preparations for Passover or “Pesach” in Hebrew, Jewish woman cleaned their kitchens and homes from top to bottom to make sure no “chametz” or leavened products remained.
During Passover, many Jews eat only unleavened bread—the bread that the Jewish people baked the night before Moses led them out of bondage in Egypt. Unleavened bread is a symbol of what God did for them.
Leaven, on the other hand, is sometimes used in Hebrew scripture as well as rabbinic writings to represent human evil and corruption. Something undesired that spreads out of control, like an invasive cancer or COVID-19.
The second surprising element of Jesus’ parable is the woman herself. For while women in first-century Jewish society were probably better off than in other cultures of the ancient world, they were still considered second-rate citizens, subject to the will of their father or husband. Added to that is the fact that she would have been a Middle Eastern, Jewish woman of color.
Throughout the gospels, Jesus treats women with extraordinary respect and compassion. But this parable goes ones step further. For when Jesus depicts this woman as the symbol of God’s kingdom, many of his listeners would have a hard time seeing beyond their preconceived biases about her.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been participating in an anti-racism book club that’s reading White Fragility, by Robin DiAngelo. This week, my small group talked about “implicit bias,” which is defined as the unconscious bias against people of color that permeates our society. DiAngelo talks about how the mainstream definition of a racist person is always an individual who consciously doesn’t like people based on race and intentionally seeks to hurt them.
Which, as she says, leads to the belief that “you [cannot] be a good person and participate in racism; only bad people [are] racist.” * Because of that assumption, we as white Christians are hesitant to admit our own implicit biases, which makes it easier to deny the realities of racism.
Today, Jesus’ parable calls us to open our eyes to see our personal and societal preconceptions. To be a church that strives to see beyond our white culture and unspoken beliefs about people. To talk with one another openly about these issues.
The last thing I want to point out about this parable is also the thing that’s most surprising. A detail most Christians overlook. Jesus tells us the woman takes three “measures” of flour. The original Greek says three “strata,” which today would be just over a bushel, or a 40-pound bag.
If you’re a bread baker, you know that’s a lot of flour. It would require a 100-quart Hobart mixer with a giant dough hook to prepare it. After several hours of baking, your kitchen would be filled with 50 loaves of bread. Enough to make 400 sandwiches.
In other words, this woman was baking an enormous quantity of bread. A loving mother who wants to do more than just feed her family. A leaven lady ready to serve her entire village.
I believe Jesus is telling us that the Kingdom of God is like a woman who wants to feed a hungry world. The meal and its leftovers are for everyone. All are welcome at God’s great feast.
A story of grace that’s so incredible, so surprising, so inclusive, so beyond what we imagine, that it shatters our lowered expectations. And defies our limited vision.
To make us see that the Kingdom of God is the greatest gift we can receive. And the most gracious gift we can give. Amen.
-----------------------------------------
* Robin DiAngelo, White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism (Boston, Beacon Press, 2018), p. 71.
+ + +
GOSPEL LESSON: Matthew 13:31-33,44-46
Jesus put before the crowds another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.” He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; On finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”