When I first read this gospel portion, heaven only knows how many years ago, I wondered if the Holy Land had a different kind of mustard than the plant I’ve always seen. The mustard I know about and find occasionally in my yard and see by the side of the road is certainly not the greatest of all shrubs. I think a bird might be able to rest in the shade under a mustard plant, but I can’t imagine a mustard branch sturdy enough for anything larger than a hummingbird to perch on. In the last week or so, I’ve read several commentaries attempting to explain this seeming contradiction between the world we know and the scripture we read. My favorite thought on the subject came from my favorite commentator, Barbara Crafton. She has concluded that “the enormous mustard of this passage is the fantasy of an anxious scribe, who simply couldn't believe that Our Lord meant to compare the Kingdom of God to a common weed and decided to help Jesus out a little. To explain what he thought Jesus must surely have meant: The Kingdom of God is Really Amazing!!! It's Huge!!! It's Just Incredible!!!!!!! You've never seen anything like it in your Entire Life!!!!!!!!!” She believes – and I join her – that “Jesus meant exactly the opposite”: that the Kingdom of God is all around us, right here, everywhere, so available to us that we rarely notice it.
I lived for a while in a house on the side of a hill in a suburb of Seattle. From my porch, I could look out into the valley, which at that time was predominately open space. Each spring, every square inch of that open space was covered with mustard. In this last week, as I’ve been thinking about the gospel and our life together in this community, I thought about all that mustard and I remembered the first time I saw it. I was a Texas girl, you know. I’d seen meadows full of bluebonnets, but I’d never seen anything like this carpet of yellow covering the countryside. One day, as I was looking out across the valley, it occurred to me that there must have been a time when there was no mustard in the valley; there must have been a day when the first seed found its way there – probably by way of a passing bird. There must have been a time when the first plant sprouted from that first seed, a time when the plant grew and flourished, a time when the plant’s seeds fell into the ground and began the process that would someday fill the valley with an abundance of gold.
Over the last year, another seed has been planted – this time in our own community – and I will tell you that I am astonished at the way it has taken root and grown. During our discernment process, we identified the need for another clergy person at St. Mark’s. Whenever the need has been mentioned, we’ve all nodded and said how great it would be to have another clergy person here, and almost in the same breath, we’ve said we were a long way from being able to call anyone. During a vestry meeting in early spring, several vestry members spoke about our need to have another clergy person, and we all agreed that it would be great, for all the reasons most of us know: to have another voice in the pulpit, to provide an alternative for pastoral care for the folks who don’t connect with me, to bring new gifts to the community, to have the excitement and enthusiasm that happens when a new clergy person joins a congregation, and – last but not least – to give me a rest from time to time. Several members of the vestry committed to exploring ways that a second person could be called – and one person seemed pretty sure that we could take care of everything by fall. I was encouraged and heartened by the vestry’s enthusiasm, but I will admit I didn’t think there was the remotest possibility it could happen by fall. Not this fall, anyway.
A few weeks ago, I was in conversation with one of the graduating seminarians from our diocese. As we talked about her upcoming ordination to the transitional diaconate, I realized that she had not yet been called to a position as a clergy person, so I asked if she’d like to sort of hang out with us here at St. Mark’s. I told her we didn’t have any money, so we couldn’t pay her very much – just a little bit – but I thought this might be a good place for her to begin this segment of her ministry. I also told her that she would be helping us a great deal, by being a stable pastoral presence during my vacation times this summer. We agreed that we’d both like it if something like that could happen and that we would talk about it further. I invited her to visit with us on a Sunday, to get a sense of what we’re like in this place. She visited with us, liked what she saw, and we continued talking together about how this whole thing might work out.
I contacted the vestry to let them know what I was doing and to find out what they thought about this very fuzzy not-quite-a-plan that was emerging. The next few days were a flurry of emails and phone calls as I clarified our candidate’s hopes for the future and gathered data to support the vestry in making a decision about funding another position. This past Monday evening, our candidate joined us for the first half of the vestry meeting. The vestry members had an opportunity to get to know her, to learn a little about her life, and to ask about her hopes for her ministry with us. After she left, the vestry entered a process of discernment. We talked about our hopes and fears. We talked about the pros and cons of calling another person in general and this person in particular. We prayed. We talked some more. We prayed some more. Finally, we voted. The vote was by secret ballot so that there would be plenty of space for the Holy Spirit to change anyone’s mind. The vote was unanimous to call Kate Wilson to be with us half-time for the next six months.
We hope that Kate will be able to continue with us after these six months, but we don’t know what our financial situation will be at that point. This is the first year in a long time that our finances have been in the black, and your vestry and I feel strongly that we need to be careful stewards of your generosity and God’s gifts. We also feel strongly that calling Kate to be with us is the right thing for this time in our life as a parish. I have known her for six years, and I know that she is a person who can share the gospel with us in the good times and the difficult times of our lives. I know that she is someone you can trust to care for you when I am away. I am also delighted that we are calling one of our own – a woman of our own diocese whose congregation encouraged her to risk the path toward ordination and all the life changes that entails. There are few ministry positions open in our diocese, and most of the people our diocese calls to ordained ministry are forced to move away in order to find work.
Kate will be ordained this Saturday, June 24, at 4 o’clock at St. Tim’s, her home parish. You are all invited to attend. Her first Sunday with us will be July 2, and I hope you’ll all be here to welcome her.
I said a few minutes ago that I’ve been astonished by the way the seed planted last year has taken root and grown, and now I want to say how grateful I am that it has – and how grateful I am for the experience of these last few weeks. I preach a lot about abundance, and I frequently tell you that I often preach what I most need to hear. In these last weeks, it took me a long time to realize how much abundance we are given – to acknowledge how much abundance we hold in this place. It took me a while to step away from my habit of thinking from a perspective of scarcity – to step away from thinking that we don’t quite have enough of whatever it is that we need. It took me a while to see all the mustard plants surrounding us. It took me a while to see the Kingdom of God, in all its abundance, right here, right now.