By Rev. Jean-Pierre Ruiz
I spend lots of time at my desk. That was true before the pandemic, and it has continued to be true throughout these challenging months. My desk has served as a classroom for distance learning and conference room for more Zoom meetings than I can remember. It has even served as a virtual chapel where I have prayed online with parishioners and “traveled” to Marian shrines around the world to join in the “rosary marathon” Pope Francis called for to seek Mary’s intercession for an end to Covid-19.
It is at my desk that I started to write this column, surrounded by the reference books and biblical commentaries that are the tools of the trade, so to speak, as I began to ponder the parables Mark’s Gospel presents this Sunday. I didn’t make it very far: the words weren’t coming to me. I felt like the disciples, about whom an exasperated Jesus complained when they didn’t get the meaning of the parable of the sower, “Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand any of the parables?”
What did I do? As usual, I procrastinated, looking up minor details and discovering that mustard seeds really are very small, only one or two millimeters in diameter. I also learned that they aren’t the smallest of seeds. That distinction belongs to certain orchid seeds, which are only 1/20th of a millimeter in diameter. Picking up that tiny bit of trivia didn’t take me very far, so I procrastinated some more, this time surfing my way to the website of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden to see what was new there.
Even during the months when it was closed to the public, the staff of the Garden did a splendid job of making online visits possible. Virtual “walks” through the Japanese Garden and through Cherry Esplanade when it was at peak bloom provided a bit of nature’s beauty that was a welcome respite, even from my desk.
As I made my way to bbg.org while fretting over this column, the first words I saw were “Rose Garden in Bloom. Visit soon.” So I did! I signed up for my advance timed ticket, closed my books, turned off my computer, and made my way to the Cranford Rose Garden, a short walk from the rectory. By the time I got back to my desk later in the afternoon, after spending time seeing and smelling the roses in person—tens of thousands of magnificent blooms, some of them from rosebushes planted as far back as 1927 — I had a better idea of what Jesus is up to.
Jesus explains, “This is how it is with the kingdom of God; it is as if a man were to scatter seed on the land and would sleep and rise night and day and through it all the seed would sprout and grow, he knows not how.” My grandfather, who was a skilled gardener, would explain that sowing seed is an act of very practical faith. It’s not blind faith, because it involves carefully preparing the soil, making sure it is fertilized, patiently tending to the sprouting shoots during their growth, and making sure that weeds don’t take over. Yet even the most skilled gardener can never compel a seed to sprout and grow, nor, as my grandfather told me, should even the most ambitious gardener ever expect that a dandelion might transform itself into a daffodil.
So then, what is Jesus trying to tell us when he suggests that the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed? First of all, that we should expect the entirely unexpected, that we should prepare to be surprised by the many subtle and unseen ways in which the grace of God so beautifully blossoms, even from the smallest of seeds. The disciples are like gardeners, preparing the soil and sowing the seed, but God is in charge, and so God alone is ultimately responsible for the growth and the rich and abundant harvest.
Yes, like the mustard seed, the kingdom of God starts small. So too does the Church, the community of those who put their trust in Jesus, which began as the smallest of seeds, through God’s abundant grace now puts forth large branches under whose generous shade many can take shelter. Like the sower who scatters seed on the land and then entrusts its growth to God, so are we, as disciples of Jesus, entrusted with the mission of sharing the Word of God far and wide, confident that God’s own grace assures will make it blossom even more splendidly than tens of thousands of roses. God is in charge, and we’re not. Thank God for that!
Readings for Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
Ezekiel: 17:22-24
2 Corinthians: 5:6-10
Mark: 4:26-34
Father Ruiz, a priest of the Diocese of Brooklyn, is a professor of theology at St. John’s University, Jamaica.