Really?

It goes on and on, with side chapels of every size and description radiating this way and that, each one containing art treasures and graves of the famous and would-be famous.

In the floor at the center of the crossing is the grave of El Cid, and then as one turns toward the north transept, what comes into view is a staircase.

Now this is not just any staircase, but a grand, double-sided, golden staircase that gleams and glitters in the dim light; a staircase that leads to a door that is firmly shut;

a staircase that as far as I can tell hasn't been used for ages.

Someone...I forget who..., someone with a very large ego ordered the staircase to be built to make his entry more impressive.

Oh, really? Did it work out for him?

Why can't I remember his name?

Maybe it wasn't that important after all?

Maybe God's standards of judging things are completely different than ours.

Maybe God is looking for something other than what we typically expect.

In order to think about this some more, we're going to listen to a monologue of a person in the shadows of an Old Testament story, the time that Samuel was sent by God to Bethlehem to choose a person who would become king in place of Saul.

Let's imagine together this scene with the unnamed mother of David from Bethlehem.

I'm a mother. I know these things, right? Of course.

Men get themselves so tied up in who is the strongest, or most powerful, or wealthiest, but mothers see the heart, like God.

When the old prophet Samuel came to our place in Bethlehem, at first the menfolk are scared spitless.

Jesse, my husband keeps asking, “So what does this Samuel want with us?” Over and over. “So what does this Samuel want with us?” He gets the boys all excited. They wonder if maybe God is mad at them. Is Samuel coming to pronounce judgment?

But old Samuel just limps down the road, leading a heifer and talking about making a sacrifice to God. He wants to hold a big prayer meeting. Fine. I get all of the women of the village together and tell them, “Start cooking. When those men stop praying, they'll start eating.” I wonder, is praying only an excuse to eat? Around here, our religion is in our stomach.

It doesn't take me long to figure that old Samuel has something up his sleeve besides a sacrifice to God. The men kill Samuel's heifer on the altar and sprinkle the blood as prescribed. They say all of the right words and sing all the right songs and do all the right things. And when they're finished, they're famished.

So we women bring out the food. We don't get to do the praying and we don't get to do the eating, but we do get to do the work.

But old Samuel won't let them eat. “Not yet,” he says. “Let me see your boys first.” “What for?” Jesse wants to know.

Samuel gives him a dirty look. “That's not for you to know. Just bring your boys here, and let me look at then, one at a time.”

So Jesse tells Eliab to step up. He stands there for the longest time while Samuel looks him over – up one side and down the other. Then I'm thinking, “Is Samuel looking for a new priest or prophet, or what?”

Eliab and Jesse are thinking too. They think maybe Samuel is raising an army. So what do they know! Eliab starts flexing his muscles and Jesse starts bragging about how tough Eliab is, and Samuel says, “So shut up already.” Samuel waves Eliab off, and Jesse tells Abinadab to stand up.

Same routine. Abinadab is preening himself, trying to look handsome and tough.

“Cut it out, Abinadab,” I think to myself. 'I don't know what old Samuel is looking for, but I know it is not muscles.”

But of course I can't say that.

Jesse shows Samuel the seven oldest boys. They all do the same thing – acting tough, showing their muscles. Samuel is looking more and more ticked off. So what is this man seeking?

Then he talks. “God has not chosen any of these men – fine and handsome though they are. God looks to the heart.”

Listen. There are times when a mama's instinct just clicks in. She understands. She acts. I'm wondering why Samuel is poking around here in Bethlehem. This is hardly even a town, it's so small. Jesse's tribe is the smallest of all the tribes. So what does this prophet want with us?

Right then I know. Samuel is not looking for muscles. Samuel wants a real mensch. He wants quality, real passion, someone who is head and shoulders above the others. Samuel wants somebody with heart. Chutzpah! And brains to go with it. So I blurt it out before Jesse can stop me. “There's one more son, David. The youngest.”

Samuel sits up real straight. “Bring that youngest son to me. We won't sit down to eat until I have met your youngest son.”

You see, Jesse doesn't like David. He sings songs and twangs on that harp, and dreams dreams.

It was true. My David has beautifl eyes. You should see his skin – so bright and clear and ruddy. His older brothers tease him . But I can see things in David that they don't see. God has plans for my boy. Mothers know these things, right? of course.

It didn't take them long to find David. He was in the wadi, just behind that hill. They brought him in, running, sweating, in his work clothes.

Old Samuel takes one look, then closes his eyes. I knew he was praying. Then slowly, his mouth whispering ancient and holy words, Samuel takes a horn and pours oil on David's head.

David never blinks. He was expecting this, maybe? He falls to his knees as the oil runs down his cheeks. His eyes meet the eyes of Samuel and an holy fire passes between them.

Then Samuel just turns on his heel and walks away. David doesn't say anything either, Off in the other direction, Back to the sheep.

Jesse is sitting there scratching his head. The older brothers start into the wine and the food. They have no idea. No idea!

I get back to my cooking pots. But I know. I know. God had seen the heart of my David, and called him to a fearful, holy destiny.

No one tells me these things. I am a mother. I know, right? of course, right!

And I am afraid. Tonight, in the middle of the night, I will wake up and I will cry. And then I will pray, “God, be careful with my child.”

[by Ralph Milton, 1997]

That was about as far away from a golden staircase of an entrance as we could imagine, isn't it.?

Dragged in from tending the sheep, smelly, sweaty, not knowing what was going on, and commissioned for something he did not know what.

And then Jesus in today's Gospel reading uses a strange little comparison, doesn't he?

We're expecting something grand:

The kingdom of God is a great processional staircase which we ascend in triumph... or something like that.

But instead we hear that the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed which grows into ...what?

Sorry, no amount of wishing can make the text say “ a mighty oak tree” or anything similar. A mustard plant is still a mustard plant, an annual, not very impressive in size.

Maybe small birds could land on it, but not much more.

So what is Jesus saying with this strange comparison?

It must be that his standards for the Kingdom of God are quite different than ours.

Perhaps he is looking for things other than size and power.

Maybe other measurements such as faithfulness, persistence, hospitality, and thoughtful seed-sowing are more important to the Lord Jesus.

And so our congregation Council meets tomorrow for its re-organizational session for the year.

They have decisions to make and directions to discern.

We'd love for everything to be grand and glorious, but some of our work will be much more like mustard plants than oak trees.

But God will be glorified in that as well!

How will it all turn out?

I don't know; that is up to God.

He is the one in charge of it all.

But our task is clear:

we are to continue planting and tending and preparing for harvest, and not waiting for someone else to do our jobs.

We are to be faithful, persistent, hospitable seed-sowers and tenders until the time of God's harvest.

It is as simple, and as complicated, as that.

We are strengthened for the task here together in Word and Sacrament, and then are sent out to our tasks

... in weekday and Sunday study opportunities,

...in conversations over coffee,

...on an exercise walk with a friend

...in a card or a letter to someone we haven't seen in a while,

...in greeting a new person down the block

...in continuing the gentle discussion with a person having deep hesitations and painful memories,

...in making sure that some of our printed resources just happen to be lying around in eye-catching places,

...in signing up to help at the July 4^th event when make ourselves especially available to the public,

...in taking the time to greet someone in this assembly that that you do not know yet; It matters not whether that person is a long-time member or a first-time visitor....the Lord will bless that branch of the vine into growing when we take the time to nurture it.

And on and on goes the list.

None of them are particularly grand and glorious...but they can be effective, because they contain God's seeds, God's promises, God's own love for us.

Remember this: since we are planting in the kingdom of God because of our Holy Baptism, that means that God himself is taking responsibility for the outcome—and it will be a good result!

Really!

It is so unlikely, we think.

Yet if it is God's will, it is a sure thing.

Really! Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.