2 PENTECOST, PROPER 6, YEAR B
SERMON PREACHED AT CHRIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, NORWAY, MAINE
THE REV. ANNE G. STANLEY
14 JUNE 2009
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1 Samuel 15:34-16:13; Psalm 20; 2 Corinthians 5:6-17; Mark 6:26-34
In many ways, all of today’s readings tell us about hope.
After struggling with King Saul, the people needed new leadership. And God did not disappoint. God anointed another, a surprise, a youth, David, a keeper of sheep, Jesse’s youngest son. “And the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.” Hope for the future.
The psalm assures us of a future, too. “May the Lord answer you in the day of trouble…” We pray to God because we trust.
“We are always confident,” writes the Apostle Paul, “we walk by faith, not by sight.” Our hope rests, he says, not in what is seen, always; it rests in what is unseen but hoped for. If we could always see, we wouldn’t need hope!
And in the gospel, Mark’s Jesus tells us more about hope. New life that springs up from hidden seed, tiny seeds, a new creation, the realm or kingdom of God.
But let us not confuse hope with optimism.
Kevin Hackett, one of the Cowley monks, recently preached a superb sermon on hope. Kevin’s the young monk who has set the psalms to music, the arrangements we have been chanting for a few months now at Christ Church.
Br. Kevin points us to the words of Desmond Tutu, who says he is not optimistic about an end to the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, but that he is hopeful. Optimism requires clear signs that things are changing—meaningful words and unambiguous actions that point to real progress. Tutu’s words. I do not yet hear enough meaningful words, nor do I yet see enough unambiguous deeds to justify optimism. Hope, on the other hand, says Tutu, hope persists in the face of evidence to the contrary, undeterred by setbacks and disappointment.”
Br. Kevin goes on. Having “hope” means having the capacity to imagine a future. In spite of evidence to the contrary, or no evidence at all, if we have hope we can imagine a future anyway.
With King David, the Israelites could imagine a future. By praying and trusting in God, the psalmist could imagine a future. By confidently walking by faith in spite of not seeing proof yet, the new Christians could imagine a future.
And the farmer, by not worrying about the seed he had planted, could sleep at night, even though his seeds had not yet sprouted. No evidence of sprouting, but hope anyway.
I, on the other hand, have had a struggle with my seeds. Especially my bean seeds. I had forgotten this parable of Jesus when I planted them and in the weeks afterwards. It would have saved me time and grief if I’d remembered!
We share our vegetable garden with moles this year. I didn’t notice the holes right away. I planted my beans, a little earlier than I should have, maybe, but I was eager to get everything well established before leaving for General Convention in early July. The packet said they’d sprout in 3 to 7 days. For awhile, like the farmer in the parable, I slept at night, confident of my future beanstalks.
But after seven days, then ten, then two and a half weeks and still no sprouts, I worried. I no longer slept and woke, confident that my seed would sprout and I knew not how. I fumed. I bought pin wheels so the vibrations would scare off the moles. I rummaged around in the soil in an effort to peek. I was horrified to find some beans had separated from the sprouts they’d begun to grow. Bitten by evil moles! I checked the internet. I could use mothballs, I could buy sonar devices, even harpoon traps.
Then I read to parable. It didn’t help. Why couldn’t I relax, like the farmer? I read some more and learned that moles most likely weren’t the sole culprits after all, it was probably mice or voles, which zip around in the mole tunnels and nibble roots and climb up and out to chomp on baby leaves. But moles themselves are carnivores. Moles eat earthworms and other meaty things.
So I pushed a few more bean seeds into the ground, poured on some water and decided to take a leaf out of the farmer’s book. I slept and rose, slept and rose, night and day. It rained and the sun shone and then it rained again. And lo, four days ago, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a line of little bent-over bean shoots, pushing up out of the soil. Today they are two inches tall---all twenty-two of them. The seed sprouted and grew in spite of me and I did not know how.
Except that I really do know. The mystery has everything to do with the earth and the seeds themselves and not a whole lot to do with the farmer, me. A whole lot to do with the way God works, not the way I work.
I had wanted visible evidence of every planted seed sprouting, exactly on MY schedule. I had no hope. No evidence, no confidence, no hope.
Br. Kevin Hackett goes on to say, “there is virtually no circumstance in this life that does not contain the seeds of hope….If you find yourself tired or discouraged or ready to give up, don’t…..You are not alone.” He reminds us that the words “help” and “hope” are related. God is our helper, which of course, gives us every reason to hope. “God is with you,” he says. “God is with us. The outward circumstances of life may not give us much reason for optimism, as Archbishop Tutu says, but because God is God, there is every reason for hope.”
It seems Jesus is calling us to do what we can; but fussing over and micro managing our bean seeds or our children or our spouses or even our churches, has more to do with ulcers, most likely, than with hope. The growth that is God’s reign often comes as a total surprise, for us to discover, not orchestrate, new life bursting forth from unlikely places, at unlikely times, new life even from a Cross.