You can do a lot with a little

Homily for June 14, 2015 (11th Sunday in Ordinary Time)
Ezekiel 17:22-24; Psalm 92 (vv.); 2 Corinthians 5:6-10; Mark 4:26-34

What do Barbie, an iPhone, a discounted book and a nice bottle wine have in common? They all had humble beginnings.  Mattel (the makers of Barbie and many other toys), Apple, Amazon and the Columbia Winery were all started by someone with big dreams and very little money—so little, in fact, that their dreams first became reality not in a board room or a lab but someone’s…garage!

If the adage that “You can do a lot with a little” is true in the purely human level of affairs, how much truer it is when God is involved!  That’s the good news in today’s scriptures.  Through the prophet Ezekiel, God promises to turn “a tender shoot” from the top of a cedar into a majestic tree.  He wrote in the early days of the Babylonian Exile, when he and thousands of people in Judah were deported.  It was time of great sorrow and anxiety.  Ezekiel had warned of this disaster, and he laid the responsibility squarely at the feet of his own people and especially their leaders.  Instead of trusting in God and reforming their lives, they had sought refuge in material comforts, corruption and injustice, political alliances and other idols; and the time had come to “pay the piper.”

But Ezekiel didn’t want to leave his people without hope.  Though they had abandoned God and would have to pay the consequences, God would not abandon them.  In time he would take a remnant and replant them.  They would be given a new mission:  to put forth their branches, bear fruit, and give shade to all who needed protection, especially the poor and vulnerable.  That mission would first belong to the people of Israel, not only in Palestine but in all the places they had been scattered.  It would be renewed and redefined in the life and ministry of Jesus, and he would hand it on to his disciples.

We are now the stewards of that mission:  to proclaim and make ever more real the kingdom of God, a place where God’s love, grace, compassion, mercy, justice and peace reign more fully in human minds and hearts.  In today’s gospel passage, Jesus uses two parables to describe what that kingdom is like.  

He begins with the image of a farmer planting by scattering or broadcasting seed.  As soon as that seed leaves his hand, so much is out of his control:  whether it will land on good soil; whether the shell of the seed will open up and allow a tender shoot to emerge; whether that shoot makes it to the surface of the earth and grows into a plant; whether that plant gets enough sunlight, water and other nourishment; whether it avoids pests; and finally what it yields.  Silently, subtly, often without notice, God does the work.  Then it’s time for the harvest.

Like the growing seasons themselves, this process repeats itself many times, in many ways, and with varying results in our lives.   I think of my own vocation and when its seed was planted in me as a first grader.  I celebrated my first “Mass” with a bathrobe as my chasuble, a folded towel as my stole, an old missalette, a piece of white bread, and a glass of grape juice.  My vision of priesthood was highly idealized and limited to what I saw in the parishes and the Newman Center we attended.

A lot has happened since 1968 and even since 1993 when I was ordained.  The world is a lot different.  My life has taken me to places and situations and has introduced me to people I could not have imagined.  Many have been blessings, though not all.  Sometimes, as with the mustard seed, God has taken something small and seemingly insignificant and made it into something great. I imagine that many of you could say the same thing as a student, spouse, parent, or even in your professional life.

The kingdom of God is ultimately the work of God.  Our mission, our privilege and grace, is to cooperate in that work.  If we keep in mind the words of St. Paul to the church at Corinth—to “walk by faith and not by sight” and to “aspire to please him” wherever we are—we may not always see what the harvest will bring.  But we know it will be good. +