Dear Friends,
What does it mean to put down roots?
As I’ve been describing over the last many weeks, I have spent the last decade on the move. Since 2013, I’ve had 7 addresses across three different states and about 1000 miles. But, what I may not have mentioned, is that I grew up with deep roots – almost unbelievably so.
Though no one in my family lives there anymore, I grew up in Staten Island – the seventh generation in my family to live there, the fourth generation to live in one particular neighborhood, and the second generation raised in one particular house. The neighborhood, in particular, was small and fairly static. My next door neighbors as a young child were the same ones who lives next door when my mother was a child in the same house. My kindergarten teacher had been my mother’s third grade teacher, and was a member of the church we attended. And don’t get me started on the longstanding grudge between my mother and a woman I knew only by name as Mrs. Burns. I could go on about how connected, how deeply enmeshed we were with that place.
My wife, by contrast, is from a family that mostly refuses to set down roots. Born on home leave to international aid workers, she lived in the United States for a whole 6 weeks before her parents picked up and took her with them to Tanzania; she would country hop, primarily around Central America, until she left for boarding school at 16. And, at the same time, I have learned the landscape of other expat children who populated her childhood, the family friends, often from her parents’ time with the Peace Corps, who still appear today for Thanksgiving dinners or board games when they pass through New England. These radically different upbringings have, I think, taught me a great deal about what roots can look like. My parents didn’t even have passports until I was in graduate school, but I wouldn’t argue their roots are any deeper than those my in-laws have set down over the years.
In this week’s Gospel, Jesus does something unusual. Or rather, Jesus does exactly what he normally does – he tells a parable. But then he does something strange: he explains the Parable.
As we well know, the great difficulty with parables is that they are utterly inscrutable and Jesus largely refuses to say more. But the Parable of the Sower (you can hear this parable here) receives unusual treatment in Matthew’s telling. After telling the story in the usual way, Jesus says:
Hear then the parable of the sower. When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.
How strange! I wonder why Jesus explains more about this particular parable. I wonder if there is something special we should notice here. Or maybe, perhaps, Jesus was just so tired of being misunderstood, so tired of the foolishness of the disciples. We can’t know – but we can, of course, wonder.
One thing that sticks out to me in this telling is the attempts at goodness made by those who are not planted in the good earth. Those who fail to put down roots can still receive the Good News joyfully, with enthusiasm and desire, but they may lack the ability to dwell with the goodness long-term. Other seeds can struggle to combat the call of the world – a familiar temptation. It seems to me, that perhaps Jesus explained this story because it reads as fundamentally about discipleship and how we create disciples. In this way, this parable is another that is less about the Kingdom of Heaven or the nature of God, but about our presence in the world – making it more like the Parable of the Good Samaritan than, for example, the Parable of the Mustard Seed.
It’s always interesting to sit with the Parables because we are never done with them. Godly Play helps us to understand this, presenting us with the precious gold boxes with their stubborn lids like locked doors. But we have to remember to return – to spend time with these texts beyond their brief presentations in the spiraling lectionary, in order to realize that there is another side to the story. There is always another side.
Here, the original text reminds us about the other side of the story, though it can be hard to hear both at the same time when we are so used to Parables coming without instructions or clarifications. Still, those are never the whole story either. Jesus doesn’t give us everything we need to know what this story means, but he gives us something extra. And there are always other places to pause in our lives that let us come closer to the story. This song, “I Planted Seeds,” sung here by Mother Sylvia Miller-Mutia, an Episcopal Priest, Godly Play storyteller, and Music that Makes Community practitioner is one of those points of pause.
Practices Of Discipleship
I don’t think we talk about discipleship enough in progressive circles. Like certain other terms, it feels like a word that throws up some red flags, especially when we’re focused on discipleship at a personal, family level. It is, I think, a word we associate with fundamentalism, perhaps with particular stripes of Christian homeschooling and the like. But what would a progressive view of discipleship offer us?
It’s a big question, and one I’m not sure I have an answer for (yet). But if the core of discipleship is to be actively learning about and acting in ways more aligned with God’s desire for our lives and world, then one thing I do feel sure about is that there are countless ways we can practice discipleship in our day-to-day lives.
One of these ways of being and forming disciples that is of particular relevance for the community of readers here is to be people who help children notice God. In a recent piece for Renovaré, Lacy Finn Borgo explores some of the core questions we might ask to help children notice God’s presence. And ‘notice’ the language here. We are talking about helping children be aware of a God who is already there. This is also the heart of Godly Play – giving children the language for the God they already know. As Lacy puts it, “How do we, adults, work with the Spirit, who is already working?”
She also offers us some guiding questions, and they are questions that are worth asking ourselves as well. When, we might ask, did you see goodness or beauty today? Or, in today’s often frightening world, when did you feel safe?
You and I already know that when we help children notice God, it helps us to notice God, too. And what could be a better way for us to understand discipleship than to be present to the mutuality of that experience, learning from each other.
(Also, if you haven’t yet, be sure to check out Lacy’s most recent book, “Faith Like A Child: Embracing Our Lives As Children of God.”)
In These Green Growing Days
We are settling well into these Green Growing Days – and with that, a heads up that you may or may not get a newsletter from me next week! In the US, this season is often packed with travel and complicated kinds of rest; how many of the clergy reading this will go on vacation and call on their neighbors to fill in for them? But many of use also travel during this time and I’m off to North Carolina to play! at the Wild Goose Festival. If you’re there, stop by the children’s area to say hello! And after that I’ll spend a few days with my family. So a few things for your coming days –
It’s not currently Feeding the 5000 time in the lectionary, but I’m loving some of the feeding story materials from Muddy Church, specifically from The Great Big Picnic series. Among their questions, I’m particularly charmed by wondering whether God has a favorite food. As a once-picky-eater-turned-foodie-with-food-allergies, I wonder!
(I also just moved to a new town where one of the Episcopal Churches (maybe) has a monthly Messy Church, so keep your eyes peeled – I hope to check it out!)I’m currently on programming hiatus at my church home base, but this summer I’m running an all-ages process art based formation program during our lemonade hour. Learn more about the creative and theological ideas at play over at Grow Christians. Any of these activities can easily be done at home with folks of all ages and abilities. I think the idea of process may also take us a long way in thinking about discipleship, but that’s a musing for another way.
One of the things I’m most excited about at the Wild Goose this year is that we (the Godly Play team) are hosting a whole family area, including a “backyard patio” where we’ll be having story time! Wherever you are, I invite you in these coming days and weeks to have a picture book scavenger hunt.
As you share stories, look for how different types of people and places are represented. Are there visibly disabled people in the illustrations? Who speaks the most in your stories? Where are the authors and illustrators from? There are so many wonderful questions we can ask about the stories we choose that reveal the vastness of God’s creation – and also the bias that so many of us bring to storytelling. Who is missing from your stories and how can you fill those gaps? Of course, you can do this activity with any kind of media at varying levels, but I’m very team picture book!)I’ve been having a delightful time adding to this playlist of songs about faith and joy, many of which are prime sing-along material. What are you singing to/with God these days?
Go in peace – or rather, I’ll go in peace (as much as I can with construction on the way to my nearest airport). Wish me luck!
Bird