Seeking wisdom from the treasury

1 Kings 3.5-12 I give you a wise and discerning mind.

Romans 8.26-39 Nothing can separate us from the love of God

Matthew 13.31-33, 44-52 The master brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.

 

‘Have you understood all this?’ They answered, ‘Yes.’

 

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‘Have you understood all this?’

 

Jesus asked his disciples that question at the conclusion of a whole series of parables; parables we have been hearing over the past few weeks as our Gospel reading: the parable of the sower, the wheat and the weeds, and today the mustard seed and the leaven, the hidden treasure, the pearl of great price and the net.

 

‘Have you understood all this?’ They answered ‘yes’.

 

I’m tempted to say, ‘really? Have you really understood all this?’

 

The disciples said ‘yes’, they did understand, and in response Jesus is not incredulous, but says slightly mysterious and intriguing words:

 

Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old. (Matthew 13.52)

 

So, the parables have been training the disciples, and by extension us, for the kingdom of heaven.

 

The disciples have been trained into being scribes, those learned in sacred law and holy wisdom.

 

And what a teacher they, and we, have. Not a homespun guru or moral exemplar, but Divine Wisdom Incarnate; Divine Wisdom in person: Jesus Christ.

 

Thus trained, the scribe can bring out of the treasury new insight and ancient wisdom.

 

It’s like an apprenticeship. The apprentice learns from the one who has mastery of the subject by listening to the master and trying out the craft in clear, incremental steps.

 

The apprentice is doomed the moment he or she decides they know best.

 

Imagine the novice violinist who decides that she can play the violin and need not bother with the teacher.

 

She might watch a two-minute YouTube video, but that’s about all the advice we want now; the result is an abrasive, scratching sound, not a melody.

 

And we recognise it as just bad.

 

That’s different from the novice who is carefully working on the disciplines of violin playing, building up skills, strength and stamina base, to ensure good quality sound; practising so that, in time, the beauty of the music can be heard.

 

It’s the same with the visual arts, with crafts, with dance, with calligraphy, with engineering and, indeed, with the Christian life.

 

But that’s hard in today’s culture.

 

We live in a culture that cherishes novelty and despises what is ancient; it’s a culture that says ‘I don’t need the disciplines, Christian or otherwise; I don’t need the teaching or the inherited wisdom of the past; that gets in my way, that makes me less free, oh and, by the way, I want everything now’.

 

The spiritual life, intimacy with God, does not and cannot work like that.

 

The parables train us, school us, and shape us into the ways of the kingdom of heaven.

 

It’s no accident, I am sure, that the parables draw on images of patient and deep growth: seeds growing, bread proving and yeast rising, persistent searching and its corollary, joyful finding.

 

Parables root us fruitfully in God’s life.

 

They are ancient wisdom and are endlessly generative and continue to form our minds and hearts and action in the way of the kingdom of heaven.

 

The paradox is that ancient wisdom reveals fresh insight; ancient wisdom enables us to live today wisely.

 

To go back to our violinist, but translate that to the spiritual life, when we refuse the schooling of the spiritual mastery of the teaching of Christ we are rejecting a life well lived, and our life – spiritual and physical – is scratchy, unmelodious, unattractive and just plain bad.

 

So let us turn to our Old and New Testament readings for today and see what we draw out of the treasury, both old and new.

 

In our first reading from the treasury we hear about the famous King Solomon.

 

His name is a byword for wisdom, riches and splendour.

 

When God asked him what gift he wanted at the outset of his reign as new King of Israel, Solomon chose not to ask for a long life or riches or retribution on his enemies – as many young, new rulers would - but rather a wise and discerning mind, the ability to discern what is right, discerning between good and evil.

 

That is an example to us: it echoes through what is known as the ‘wisdom literature’ of the scriptures, the books of Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs, also known as the Song of Solomon.

 

Those books tell us of the value of wisdom and pose the question, ‘where is wisdom to be found?’ (cf Job 28.1; 28.12; 28.20) .

 

In the face of all the choices we are asked to make today the gift of a wise and discerning mind is as vital as ever.

 

That’s true for earthly leaders like King Solomon - Prime Ministers and Presidents - and it’s true for spiritual leaders - bishops and priests and lay leaders - in the Church too.

 

Every day in life, the message from Solomon’s blessing is: seek not your own priorities and preferences, but the wisdom that comes from God, the Most High.

 

This week, what will a ‘wise and discerning mind’ look like in your life?

 

In our second reading we learn similarly how the life of prayer is not about lining up our own wish list but about opening ourselves to the movement of the Holy Spirit of God deep within us.

 

St Paul puts it like this:

 

26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. 27And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

 

At its heart prayer is the art of aligning ourselves to the will and purpose of God; something we only gain in true and deep silence, in dedicated time, paying attention to his Holy Spirit who shapes us and enlightens us.

 

So when you read scripture don’t impose your own terms on it, allow God’s terms to be imprinted on you.

 

And if you don’t regularly, pick up the Bible today, go back to the Bible today, for there is your treasury where you will find pearls of immeasurable value for your life.

 

You could do worse than to re-read today’s parables!

 

Read ahead to what next Sunday’s readings will be; start pondering them, extracting new insight from their ancient and enduring wisdom.

 

In our discipleship as Christians we need to rise above the chatter of the world, or rather, sink deep below to find the treasury, open it up, find the pearl of great price, the pearl of wisdom.

 

Lord, grant us wise and discerning minds,

may your Holy Spirit search our hearts

so that we may draw out of your treasury

wisdom ever old and ever new

to lead us to gracious, faithful and generous lives

as we learn and grow day by day.

Amen.

 

 

Preparing the soil of the heart

Isaiah 55.10-13  The word that goes out from my mouth does not return to me empty

Romans 8.1-11

Matthew 13.1-9,18-23 A sower went out to sow

 

The word that goes out from my mouth;

shall not return to me empty, says the Lord,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

(cf Isaiah 55.11)

 

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The poet T S Eliot remarks in a poem: ‘take no thought of the harvest, but only of the proper sowing’.

 

It’s a rather appropriate quote when we hear the Parable of the Sower: ‘take no thought of the harvest, but only of the proper sowing’.

 

In other words, don’t think about the end results first, but think about what you sow or plant and how you sow or plant it.

 

That’s not to say that the harvest, the results, the productivity or yield doesn’t matter; but the focus at the outset is about what you sow before determining the result.

 

In the biblical witness the first concern is not with the harvest, the results, the yield, but with the gift, with the proper sowing.

 

What we are asked to aspire to is fruitfulness in our lives and in our church; what that looks like is down to the growth God gives: it’s an exercise in grace and trust.

 

As St Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians: ‘neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth’. (1 Corinthians 3.7)

 

We can be sure that God wills fruitfulness in our lives and in the Church: the fruitfulness God wills in our lives is always in response to his gift of abundant life, it’s something beautifully captured in Psalm 65 sung today..

 

And as the Lord says, through the words of the prophet Isaiah, in our first reading:

 

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

   it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

   and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. (Isaiah 55.11)

 

Seed is not sown with the intention of no return; ‘it shall not return to me empty’.

 

Jesus Christ is the Word of God, sent by the Father, his mission is not to return empty, but accomplishing all that the Father wills.

 

So we could say that the sower is God, sowing himself in the person of Jesus Christ, into the soil of our hearts and lives.

 

So let’s take a look at the sower and then at the soil of our hearts.

 

First there’s the sower.

 

If you think about it, there is something a bit crazy about the sower in the parable.

 

The sower scatters seed everywhere; it goes everywhere: all over the place!

 

This flies in the face of modern farming techniques and simple common sense.

 

The modern seed drill sows the seed exactly where the farmer wants it, in the best soil.

 

It’s highly mechanised and scientific: computers calculate the amount to sow and where to sow in it the field to achieve the maximum yield when it is cut down.

 

But that’s also true in the technique used until the mechanisation of agriculture.

 

The sower would take handfuls of seed from a basket on his hip and cast it onto the ground.

 

The sower was skilled in getting as much of the seed onto as much of the good soil as possible.

 

So, in ancient and modern times it seems bonkers to sow seed on a  footpath, or on rocky ground or in amongst weeds.

 

Seed was, and is, hugely precious and not to be wasted.

 

God, the sower is wonderfully lavish in scattering the seed: it is sown indiscriminately, it is sown without cost and sown everywhere: God the Sower sows his word into every human heart: the question is, ‘how will it grow’?

 

But Jesus’ parable isn’t agricultural guidance; it is a parable of the Kingdom.

 

Parables are not one hit morality tales, but endlessly generative stories that are sown in our minds and hearts to open us to the ways of the Kingdom of Heaven.

 

Jesus Christ sows the seeds of the Kingdom into our hearts by the telling of parable and this parable is about the soil as much as about the sower or the seed; it demands that we pay attention to ourselves and our inner life.

 

So now, consider the soil of your heart.

 

When the seed of the Word of God lands in your heart, what chance are you giving it to grow, to yield and be fruitful? How able is God’s word able to take root, truly and deeply in your heart?

 

This is about deep self-examination. It’s the sort of self-examination and expression of vulnerability that I am privileged to hear in confession and spiritual direction.

 

Is the soil of your heart like a path? The soil of a path is trodden down, well-worn and compacted; a hard carapace, a crust, sits on top of it making it impenetrable: the seed cannot take root; when it rains the seed is washed away.

 

That’s when our hearts are ready to receive the Word but we don’t engage with it, we offer nothing in return for the gift and, as a bird pecks the seed, so the Evil One pecks it away and the Word of God is lost to us.

 

Are you seeking truly to understand the Word of God? What needs to break up or soften the ground so the seed can root?

 

Is the soil of your heart like rocky ground? The soil of rocky ground is sparse. When there is little soil but mostly rock the seed can send out roots but the root has little chance: there’s no depth of soil, all is shallow so when the sun comes out rather than giving growth it burns the roots away and the seedling withers away.

 

That’s when our hearts receive the Word of God and then fall away at the first sign of pressure, because the Word of God can’t grow deep in us.

 

Are you seeking to take the hard rocks out of your life so that there is more soil in your life to receive the Word of God?

 

Is the soil of your heart already full of other strong plants? Soil that’s full of already established plants is not going to have space for the seed of the Word of God to grow.

 

That’s when other priorities are already established in us. As Jesus’ interpretation of the parable suggests the cares of the world and the lure of wealth are like already established plants that crowd out the Word of God, to which we might add distractions, doggedly held onto ideologies or views that are not of the Gospel.

 

Are you ready to root out pernicious or unhealthy attitudes, practices or pursuits that are not of the Gospel?

 

Is the soil of your heart good soil? Soil ready to receive the seed so that it can take deep root in you? For then you will be fruitful.

 

‘How do I do that?’ you might say. It’s in confession of our sins. It’s in deepening our relationship with God in prayer. It’s in receiving the grace of the sacrament.

 

In confession, prayer and the Sacrament we prepare and till the soil to receive the Word of Christ which will grow richly in us and we will be drawn into intimacy with our loving heavenly Father, to whom be all honour, glory and praise, now and to all eternity.

 

 

Come to me

Zechariah 9.9-12 See now, your King comes humbly to you

Romans 7.15-25a I do not understand my own actions.
Matthew 11.16-19,25-30 Come to me and I will give you rest

 

 

Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

 

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One of the accusations made against our faith, against Christianity, is that it is negative or pessimistic about the human condition.

 

In the case against Christianity St Paul is often held up as a convincing argument.

 

All the ills of the Church and any negativity about being human - body, mind and spirit - get pinned on him.

 

Yet St Paul’s vision of being human is entirely misrepresented.

 

St Paul retains the deep conviction that what is said in the Book of Genesis about the fundamental goodness of God’s creation is true.

 

That’s why he can be clear sighted about where things go wrong.

 

St Paul is such an acute observer of the way in which humanity, starting with himself, has the propensity to mess things up.

 

God saw his creation of human beings and declared that we, and all that he has made, are ‘very good’.

 

So, St Paul muses, ‘‘I do not understand my own actions’  to which, surely, we say, ‘I know what you mean’: for which of us really does understand our own actions?

 

‘For’ he continues, ‘I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate’ (v15).

 

The human propensity to mess things up. I recognise that in my life, fellow sinners: you might recognise it in yours too.

 

So St Paul is not negative about our being human but realistic and also sees that we are a mystery unto ourselves, let alone to others.

 

And he notices something else:

 

So I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. (vv21-23)

 

St Paul is expressing the deep desire of the followers of Jesus Christ: I want to lead a life that is virtuous and good and beautiful and true and sometimes when I am so close to living that life that I feel all the more acutely that I am not there.

 

In the face of this contemporary culture falls back into notions of self-improvement; if I want this enough I can have it, I can do it.

 

The culture believes in mind over matter; as if our mind and body are not connected – and therein lies one of the greatest fallacies and sources of unhappiness that we can have.

 

St Paul acknowledges this tendency when he says, ‘So then, with my mind I am a slave to the law of God, but with my flesh I am a slave to the law of sin’ (25b).

 

He knows that when we detach mind and body we live fragmented lives not whole and healthy lives, and that is a source of despair.

 

There is something unintegrated -disintegrated - about being human.

 

The path to integration and wholeness is the path of holiness about uniting the will of the mind and the actions of the body.

 

That is not to be pessimistic about being human but is realistic and with hope.

 

It is modernity and contemporary culture that is most pessimistic about human nature because it tells us that we are okay, when we know in ourselves that all is not okay; it tells us we are more connected than ever, when loneliness stalks and pervades society; it tells us that all we need to be satisfied is to be able to choose, irrespective of what our choice may be and however bad it may be for us or for other peoples’ lives.

 

In the face of the enduring human questions, ancient and modern, St Paul cries out, ‘Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?’

 

Who will rescue me; who will save me?

 

His answer: ‘Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!’ (v25a).

 

This is St Paul’s hope and ours: Christ is the Saviour, he will rescue us from this body of death, sin and contradiction, from the burden of our predicament of doing what we do not want to and failing to do want we know we should.

 

Our hope is found in placing ourselves in his love and finding peace and rest in him.

 

Here is our hope; in Christ who says,

 

Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11.28-30)

 

‘Come to me’ – that is a deep and gracious invitation.

 

‘Come to me you who labour’ - the laboriousness of the lot of men and women is part of our fallen condition (cf Genesis 3.16-19).

 

Life can be a slog and laborious.

 

‘Come to me you who are heavy laden’ - we are laden down with our human predicament, with sin and with the tension between what we think and what we do.

 

‘Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me’ says Christ.

 

His yoke is the cross: this is what he has carried for us; his death on the cross has broken the power of death and sin, powers which are the ultimate burdens that we bear.

 

‘And learn from me’.

 

The Christian life is all about learning to walk the way of the cross – a path we begin in baptism – shaping our lives after the example of Christ in which we find rest and tranquillity for our souls.

 

Today hear afresh the call, ‘come to me’, for in coming to him we find our life, our hope and our salvation.

 

In imitation of Christ, leading lives shaped by him, we will begin to have unravelled the conflicting powers at war in us; we will begin to see clearly the path set before us; and we will witness to his beauty, goodness and truth and our bodies will no longer be a body of death but a body of life.

 

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!