From
The Rectory
I
hope you’re enjoying our explorations in Matthew’s gospel a little bit, if not
as much as I am. We recently spent three weeks in church looking at the
parables of Jesus from Matthew chapter 13. One of the things that I hope the children
of Dallington school have learnt is that parables are “stories with a meaning.”
Jesus made up these images or tales to teach about the Kingdom of God or of
heaven (interchangeable terms: likely the Jews said “heaven” as proxy for “God”
so as to avoid any risk of misusing his name and so breaking one of the Ten
Commandments).
Some
people think that parables are good stuff for the kids – or perhaps for simple
country folk, or the primitive people of Jesus’ day. But the Bible’s attitude
is rather different. Instead of being supposedly easy to understand, Jesus’
hearers often dislike his parables. The disciples ask for them to be explained.
People always want Jesus to speak more plainly, without metaphor, and he often
refuses.
The
parables communicate, certainly. But in a way they also conceal. They are
hostile to a superficial interest. They almost ask to be dismissed as nonsense.
But Jesus says they work rather as a test, a filter: they are like cryptic crossword
puzzles for us to chew over.
Matthew
13 contains the following parables, some almost allegories, some a one sentence
idea:
The
parable of the Sower, the good seed and the four types of soil
The
parable of the Weeds and the wheat growing together until harvest
The
parable of the smallest mustard seed growing into the biggest tree in the
garden
The
parable of the hidden sour dough starter that transforms all the great batch of
flour
The
parable of the treasure discovered hidden in the field, for which one should
sell all
The
parable of the pearl of great price
The
parable of the good and bad fish in the net which need sorting out in the end
And
the tales are told and arranged with the complexity of a Christopher Nolan
film. Sometimes they are sandwiched together with the explanation delayed. Or
one flashes back to another. There are a series of pairs or even triples. What
does each one add? Is Jesus merely repeating himself with different illustrations,
or could there be further treasure hidden a little further down?
I
commend to you reading and reflecting on these great stories or vignettes,
which live on in our culture. But can we sum up something of the meaning in
more prosaic terms?
The
kingdom of God (his rule and reign) is powerful and productive. But it depends
on a good response: on listening, and hearing, understanding and believing,
putting into practice and sticking with. Much of the growth of the kingdom in
hearts, churches and societies is slow and secret. We can be rightly or wrongly
impatient for “justice”. But Jesus calls us to wait. Our part is to scatter the
word, to fish for souls. The harvest is God’s job and awaits the final day and his
alone perfect discernment and discrimination. For now, the great thing is to
seek Jesus and his word. He is of infinite and everlasting value. Well, I
couldn’t really do it without slipping back into the metaphors!
One
other point worth making is that Jesus must have known these were tall tales.
Some of the details are wrong – we must think deliberately so. Mustard seed:
not really the smallest. Not really a tree. Not the biggest. The farming (chucking
seed around with abandon) is odd. So is the gardening (Jesus hates weeding!). A
large and precise amount of flour (alluding to Genesis 18): perhaps more than
one woman could kneed. Maybe enough for the needs of a village. A quibble about
the morality or legality of treasure trove. These things are to miss the point,
as we so easily do. And the great point is to hear Jesus. His kingdom is not
only remarkable but supernatural. It changes everything. He might even transform
us for the better.
The Revd Canon Marc
Lloyd
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