Why do the Lectionary-ers exclude the mercy of Jesus in favor of the delusion of personal works righteousness?
Gospel Reading: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
For Sunday, July 10 , 2011: Year A—Ordinary 15
I have learned from literature and movies and TV that a bad seed is a person who is genetically bad—no good from birth—evil even. No amount of nurturing or right moral upbringing could have any effect. A bad seed is very often a creepy little boy dressed like Angus Young of AC/DC who pretends to be good and then does horrific things when the adult’s heads are turned.
Bad Seed
While not everything I learn from literature, movies and TV is right, I do think the bad seed character explores a really interesting question about being human and about evil: Are some people born evil? I would answer this question in two ways—of course no one is born evil and yes, everyone is born evil.
Without whipping up some old school systematic theological debate, let me just say—I would like to think that everyone is born with the same disposition regarding one’s predilection to evil. And, more importantly, I think that it is all sorted out by the grace of God through Jesus Christ—I am sure many of you could get behind me on that.
Which is why I cannot imagine why our beloved lectionary-ers chose to edit this pericope the way they have this week. They've taken a beautiful and deliciously mysterious Dagwood-of-a-God sandwich and pulled the mercy meat out from between the slices of chiding, ethical bread.
God Sandwich
Top slice of chiding, ethical bread: Jesus tells the parable of the sower. Some seeds fall on the asphalt, birds eat them; they grow up and get fried by the sun. Clearly some of the seeds make all kinds of unwholesome, half-baked, choices about where they should land. Other seeds fall on fertile soil and bring forth amazing amounts of whole grain goodness.
Mysterious mercy meat in the middle: the disciples ask Jesus why he speaks in parables. He answers, to you have been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but not to them. He says they can’t see, hear or understand—I talk to them this way so they know they can’t see, hear or understand—so then they will turn to me and I will heal them. Then they will know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven. Get it? You know it or you realize you don’t know it and then you know it—because God’s mercy meat is a given.
Bottom slice: same as the top slice, but with more imploring you to act right. Be like a seed that falls on good soil—don’t be like one of those rolled oats that have the naughty notion to just go falling on the path or among the weeds or on the rocks.
Blind to Reality
Here is why the sandwich makes no sense without the mercy (by the way, sorry about this kind of lame extended sandwich metaphor—I promise not to end this post by asking, “Where’s the beef?”): the seed doesn’t choose where it lands. That is the responsibility of the sower.
What Jesus is getting at with the mercy in the middle, is that, if you think that you, a mere seed, can control what soil you land on, you are blind to your own reality. Once you realize you cannot do a thing about the state of your soil, you turn and you are healed.
The Hardest Question
Why do the Lectionary-ers exclude the mercy of Jesus in favor of the delusion of personal works righteousness?
Russell Rathbun is a preacher at House of Mercy in St. Paul, Minnesota, the author of Midrash on the Juanitos (Cathedral Hill Press, 2010) and the curator of The Hardest Question.
