What’s in Your Pocket?

"When once the owner of the house has got up and shut the door, and you begin to stand outside and to knock at the door, saying, ‘Lord, open to us,’ then in reply he will say to you, ‘I do not know where you come from… go away from me, all you evildoers!’" Oh, what a wonderful Gospel passage to be offered as I return from vacation. There is a collection of passages in the Gospels that are often called Jesus’ "hard sayings". It’s a bit odd, isn’t it, that we’ve developed this pigeon hole called "hard sayings" as though by labeling these phrases and filing them away as somehow special or extra-ordinary, we can make them more manageable to our own sensibilities. Jesus’ sayings are Jesus’ sayings. They are the words of our Lord, spoken to us, this Sunday and every Sunday. "The Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ according to Luke." And in this morning’s Gospel, Jesus says, "I do not know where you come from… go away from me."

Jesus pretty clearly says that not everybody is going to get into the kingdom. Not everyone is going to know the joy of the heavenly banquet. The door is narrow. It takes some work, some effort, to get in. And, more than that, a time will come when even the narrow door is closed. When it will be too late— the opportunity to enter will have passed.

Let me read to you a few verses from Luke’s gospel that immediately precede the reading appointed for this morning. These verses, too, are about the kingdom of God. Luke 13:18: Jesus said therefore, "What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it? It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches.

And again Jesus said, "To what should I compare the kingdom of God? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened."

There we go… what a relief! To be back amid the sayings of Jesus that we like. These parables are so familiar to us, both of them: the parable of the mustard seed and the parable of the leaven. So familiar that sometimes we probably miss their fullness. Both of them speak to us of something tiny that has great potential. Something tiny that has great power, great significance, great potential. They are encouraging, empowering. The small, the everyday… these can be images for the kingdom of God. A tiny seed, a bit of yeast… these bring the kingdom of God into our world, our lives.

The parable of the mustard seed. The parable of the leaven. But, you know, it’s not really the parable of the mustard seed. It’s the parable of the mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden and watered and cared for and it grew and grew until it became a tree that served as home and shelter for God’s creatures, the birds of the air. Similarly, it’s not the parable of the leaven. It is the parable of the yeast that a woman took and mixed with flour. And, although Jesus doesn’t say so, we may presume that the woman kneaded and baked the bread and offered it as nourishment to her family or her neighbors.

As I consider the hard sayings of this morning’s gospel, an image comes to mind. Jesus paints a graphic picture of people struggling to get through the narrow door to God’s kingdom. Or the even starker picture of a great line of humanity stretching back from a door that has been closed and locked. Person after person locked out of the kingdom of God. In my imagination I wonder how many of those individuals have in their pockets a handful of mustard seeds or a few grains of yeast. Standing outside the portal to the kingdom. Yearning to get in. With a few seeds or specks of yeast cherished in their pockets. But it is too late. Too late to grow a tree. Too late to knead and rise and bake a loaf of bread.

I can’t help but think of that awful series of TV credit card commercials for which the punch line is "What’s in your wallet?" But I ask you today, "What’s in your pocket?" A mustard seed? A bit of yeast?

Mustard seeds and grains of yeast are marvelous things. You can find them almost anywhere. You don’t have to be rich or strong or gifted or even saintly to find and keep them. They are ordinary, common, small. And they do have such power, such potential. Potential. In the parable of the mustard seed, the seed is not the kingdom of God; it is the kingdom’s potential. The seed is a glimpse, a promise, a vision of something that can be. The people in this morning’s Gospel saw Jesus in person; they ate at his table; they glimpsed holiness in their midst; they heard in his words the promise of the kingdom’s joy and fulfillment. That is as much, or more, than most of us expect or experience. But these were just seeds. In one town and village after another, the people of Jesus’ time were handed seeds. Seeds of wondrous power and potential. But evidently they did not plant the seeds, but rather kept them in their pockets. The seeds stayed seeds, never becoming more, never being planted, never growing into the living tree that is the kingdom of God. And as those people stood on the outside looking into the very kingdom of God, Jesus said, "I do not know you. I do not know where you come from. Go away from me."

Mustard seeds and grains of yeast are marvelous things. Common, abundant in our lives, too. They are the glimpses we are given of God’s kingdom. They are the collection of experiences we are given when feel touched by God’s presence. They are those moments when we experience, even if just for a fleeting instant, the promise of something holy, grand and eternal beyond what we see and touch in our daily lives. The witness of a grandparent’s faith. The breathtaking beauty of nature’s wonder. The eager smile of an infant just baptized. The overwhelming majesty of resonant prayers said in a holy space. The voluntary sacrifice of one life so that others may live. The graceful generosity of those who have little. The resurrection of being forgiven. These experiences are mustard seeds, grains of yeast, offered into all of our lives. Visions of God’s presence. Promises of God’s kingdom. Dropped into our hands. Wonderful gifts, found in small moments, in ordinary places.

Seeds. Bits of leaven. We can slip them into our pockets like a valued coin or a beautiful shell collected along the beach. We can slip them into our pockets and hold them close.

Or...   Or we can do the work of growing, of building, the kingdom. We can draw confidence from the promise, the vision, we have been given and do the work of ministry that is required to make the kingdom real in our lives and our world. It takes ministry to turn this vision into reality. It takes action, work, for the kingdom’s potential to be realized. We must plant the seed, we must knead the bread before the kingdom of God can truly exist for us and for those around us. It is through the process of building up the kingdom that we gain our own citizenship there. Not to mention all the seeds and bits of yeast we pass along to others while we’re at it.

We must build the kingdom. Teach Sunday School. Teach children about God’s presence and love. Build the kingdom.  Bake bread for the hungry. Make the kingdom real.  Give enough of our financial resources that it makes a difference in the kingdom of God. Evangelize. Offer praise and witness to God in the marketplace, in the highways and byways. Build up the kingdom of God.  Visit the lonely and isolated; bring the community to those who are exiled by infirmity or despair. Work for justice and peace. We must build God’s kingdom on earth. For God’s sake. For others’ sake. For our sake.

What’s in your pocket? Are you carrying a handful of cherished mustard seeds, some grains of yeast… memories from your life of times when you glimpsed the potential of the kingdom of God? If we are to truly know the kingdom, to experience its joy, to live as its citizens, we must do the work of planting and nurturing those seeds, of mixing and kneading that yeast into dough and baking it with care. I don’t know how much work is necessary, what exactly, specifically, is expected of you, or even of me. God is loving and merciful, and I truly believe that God yearns for us all to find our place at his heavenly table, to come home to his kingdom. But I also know that, in the end, even a great fistful of mustard seeds stashed in a pocket isn’t good for much at all.

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