Fr. Manuel João, comboni missionary
Sunday Reflection
from the womb of my whale, ALS
Our cross is the pulpit of the Word

Year B – Ordinary Time – 11th Sunday
Mark 4:26-34: “This is what the kingdom of God is like.”

We are in the fourth chapter of the Gospel of Mark, the chapter of parables. The evangelist tells three parables in this chapter: the parable of the sower, the most developed one, and the two small parables found in today’s gospel passage. The three parables feature the seed and focus on both “the Word” (mentioned 9 times in this chapter) and the “Kingdom of God” (mentioned 3 times).

Plants play a special role in today’s readings: the cedar and the trees of the forest (first reading, Ezekiel 17:22-24); the palm and the cedar (Psalm 91); wheat, mustard, and garden plants (gospel). To speak of the Kingdom of God, the Lord doesn’t give us grand and complicated arguments but invites us to observe the simple realities of nature and learn from them. Learn even from the plant world because everything bears the imprint of the Creator!

We, however, are too occupied with “much more important” things and often have neither eyes nor ears to see and hear these realities that speak to us incessantly. We need moments of contemplation to cultivate the spirit of Saint Francis and to grasp the voice of creatures, to the point of having to say like him: “Be silent, be silent, I know well what you want to tell me!”

This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man throws seed on the land. Night and day, while he sleeps, when he is awake, the seed is sprouting and growing; how, he does not know. Of its own accord the land produces first the shoot, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the crop is ready, he loses no time: he starts to reap because the harvest has come.”

What does this seed speak of? This seed speaks to us of HUMILITY. The humility of smallness and weakness; the humility of being thrown to the ground, of disappearing and dying in the soil. A soil the seed did not choose, which perhaps is not ideal for germination. This humility frightens us. Instinctively, we wish to be the “cedar planted on a high and lofty mountain, becoming a magnificent cedar,” as Ezekiel spoke of. Alas, Jesus did not want to be the magnificent cedar, but a grain of wheat: “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (John 12:24).

What does this seed speak of? This seed speaks to us of PATIENCE. The patience to wait to germinate and grow, first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. This is not our logic. We are always short of time, so we want everything immediately. We are no longer capable of patience!

What does this seed speak of? This seed speaks to us of TRUST. Trust in the extraordinary power the seed carries within. Trust that no obstacle is insurmountable and that it is even possible to crack the rock. That seed, in its smallness and weakness, does not give up and does not lose heart. And so, from trust is born a new life that nothing predicted. Unfortunately, we calculate everything, and trust does not fit into our calculations!

What can we say the kingdom of God is like? What parable can we find for it? It is like a mustard seed which at the time of its sowing in the soil is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet once it is sown it grows into the biggest shrub of them all and puts out big branches so that the birds of the air can shelter in its shade.”

What does the mustard seed tell us?
It tells us not to be discouraged by our smallness: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:32).

It tells us to cultivate patience: “See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains.” (James 5:7).

It tells us to grow in trust: “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.” (Luke 17:6).

They speak to us of the Kingdom, of the humble presence of God in the world, in history, in our very lives.
They speak to us of the Word, which does not return to God without having accomplished its mission (Isaiah 55:11).
They speak to us of sowing, to tell us that our ecclesial time is no longer of harvest. Perhaps we deluded ourselves into living in a perpetual era of fruits, without tending to the sowing. The harvest season is over, and the “ecclesial winter” has arrived. We need to start sowing again. We have lived off the fruits for too long, and the granary is empty. We risk famine. We need to roll up our sleeves and sow.

They tell us to sow a new word, to sow the seeds from the granary of heaven, words “that come from the mouth of God.” They tell us that only the Word of God “is alive and active, sharper than any double-edged sword,” the only one capable of reaching the depths of the human heart (Hebrews 4:12-13). Will we be willing to listen to these voices?

Today, we all talk about crisis in our churches. Almost everyone sees the need to start anew, to return to the gospel, and to adopt the lifestyle of the early communities. But who is willing to lay down their life? We all expect a stroke of genius from a pastoral proposal that will renew the face of the church. Saint Daniel Comboni told his missionaries that they were called to “be a hidden stone underground, which perhaps will never come to light, and which becomes part of the foundation of a new building that only posterity will see rising from the ground.” If this was true for the missionaries in Africa in the 1800s, it is equally true for Christians in the 21st century: becoming living stones of the foundations of a new “Christianity.”

For Personal Reflection During the Week

The Christian of the future is called to walk the path of humility, patience, and trust!

1. Ornamental facade stones abound. Am I willing to walk the path of humility, to become a foundational stone for the church of tomorrow?
2. We all desire a new and more attractive face for the church, but perhaps we expect a cosmetic operation or a change of structures. Am I willing to walk the path of patience, to undertake a true and arduous personal conversion?
3. We are all somewhat tempted by catastrophic pessimism (“There is nothing more to be done, everything is going wrong!”) or naive optimism (“Oh well, everything will be fine!”). Both risk paralyzing us. Am I willing to break out of this logic, to undertake the evangelical path of trust, twin of hope?

Simon Peter tells us: “I’m going fishing!” Indeed, sowing! May the whole church respond: “We will go with you!” (John 21).

Fr. Manuel João Pereira Correia, mccj
Verona, June 13, 2024