If you’re anything like me, you might not always be very diligent at reading the fine print. If it’s something really momentous like a rental agreement or a job contract, I’m more inclined to wade through the minutiae of technical language before signing on the dotted line. But here’s a true confession: I can’t tell you how many times I have hurriedly and mindlessly clicked the little box on my computer screen that said, “Yes, I agree to all the above terms and conditions,” without having read any of it.
You might regret being so hasty in agreeing to all the terms and conditions when it turns out that there was one crucial sentence in four-point font that comes back to haunt you later. The incredibly low interest rate goes up drastically after a few months, and if only you’d heeded the fine print, you wouldn’t have been caught off guard.
But when it’s just a matter of uploading software updates to your computer or signing up for a new email account, it’s tempting to be less careful in heeding the fine print. Who wants to spend an extra fifteen minutes reading all those boring details? So, without a second thought, we check that box, “Yes, I have read and agree to all the terms and conditions stated therein.”
I admit that I’m somewhat skeptical about the disciples’ response to Jesus’ query in today’s Gospel. Jesus has just rattled off five similes about the kingdom of heaven. These are the shortest parables we get from Jesus, and because of their brevity, they remain, at least to my mind, somewhat elusive.
After all, this is the nature of parables, isn’t it? They don’t provide clarity; they stimulate imaginative thought. Jesus seems to be offering us an abstruse mosaic that depicts the kingdom of heaven, instead of one crystalline picture. He suggests what God’s kingdom is like, not what it is. No single image can encapsulate the wonder of this dominion. If we reduced it to one simile, we’d be all the poorer for it.
But let’s return to the disciples. After Jesus offers five holy similes about the kingdom of heaven, he asks them if they have understood all this. Jesus packs a lot into a few verses. It’s like drinking from a fire hose. And the disciples’ reply is simple: yes. Really? Come on, disciples, did you really get all that? It’s reminiscent of the overwhelmed student trying to absorb a heady lecture from an unintelligible professor. Just nod and pretend that you understand it all.
Even given the likelihood that the disciples had more inside knowledge of Jesus’ words than we do, does it frustrate, perhaps even annoy, you that the disciples so glibly answer yes? Or did they simply check the box after letting the fine print go in one ear and out the other? Did they rashly agree to the terms and conditions without fully understanding them? Did they even realize they’d signed up for anything in the first place?
Based on later Scriptural evidence, it may be that the disciples just thought they understood the terms and conditions. A look at the disciples’ later behavior in the Gospels suggests that they didn’t fully understand all the fine print of Jesus’ speech. These disciples in their weakness were all too ready to accept the greatness of the kingdom of heaven without any other qualifiers. Some seven chapters later in Matthew’s Gospel, the mother of James and John asks Jesus to grant seats to her sons in his kingdom, one at his right and one at his left. Jesus responds that whoever wishes to be great must be a servant, and whoever wishes to be first must be a slave.[1]
The disciples’ quick affirmative to understanding Jesus’s parables is later countered by Peter’s threefold denial of Jesus on the eve of his death. Judas betrays Jesus. And the disciples couldn’t even stay awake with him as his death drew nigh.
And what about us? While we might be all too willing to affirm that we understand Jesus’s description of the kingdom of heaven, have we truly comprehended the fine print behind it? It’s not difficult to find hope in Jesus’ words. The mustard seed parable reminds us that God values the small things in life, and with minute quantities, God can work wonders. The image of yeast allows us to trust that the small actions we undertake in the name of Christ can, in God’s marvelous providence, actually make a difference. And the kingdom of heaven is of great value like a treasure. It also resembles a fine pearl. It is precious and beautiful, and we like things that are precious and beautiful. And finally, at some point, God will sift through what’s in his kingdom and keep only the good. Why would we want anything to do with the bad?
But this is all still very much on the surface. There is yet some fine print behind Jesus’ words. It is so fine that we have to read carefully behind the text. After all, it’s easy enough to find encouragement without reading what’s in the small font, and then reply that, like the disciples, yes, we do understand all of this.
There is a glittering allure behind the images that Jesus offers us. And I can’t help but wonder if we find them hopeful because, without the clarifying fine print, they seem to feed our distorted notions of hope. It’s a secular hope that has wandered far from that which God truly offers us.
We imagine a tiny seed growing into the largest of trees, the biggest of trees in the neighborhood, the greatest tree in the world, a tree so mammoth that it only reinforces pride in our handwork of planting the seeds. We picture grains of yeast multiplying and multiplying, yielding bigger and bigger loaves of bread. These loaves of bread are huge, the best bread we’ve ever baked. We love the idea of treasure, of finally discovering a trove of riches we’ve always longed for. We are entranced by the dazzling beauty of the pearl of great price; it looks rather stunning on a necklace. And in that great fishing net, we are all too happy for the bad seeds to be thrown out, those people we abhor and wish to distance ourselves from.
Now add to this the voices of our world that constantly tell us that we need to be something big. And great is not enough. We must be greater, the greatest. Some of us are told that our voices are too humble or gentle to be heard or say anything of importance. Some are told that their education is too small for them to be of worth to society. Many are warned that their checking accounts have too little money in them to have a good life. And if you have too little, then perhaps you haven’t worked hard enough. And the more blasphemous, accusing voices say that your faith is too small for you to be in God’s good favor.
And so the news that God looks with compassion, mercy, and love on the small things of this world, calls them very good, and gives them growth is powerful. But it’s not all there is to the story. There is fine print that we have not yet heeded, even though we have said, yes, Lord, we understand all the terms and conditions.
We should be grateful that God has no desire to make things or us great just for the sake of being grand. If we heed the fine print, we need not fear a gotcha situation like the technical language that usually catches us off guard and spells bad news. Behind the fine print of the Gospel, there is a healing message that will bless and grace not just our own lives, but the lives of all people.
Let’s take a look at the fine print of Jesus’ parables. The mustard seed, that smallest of seeds, does not just become the greatest of trees. It becomes the greatest of trees so that the birds of the air can find shelter. Those tiny, tiny grains of yeast when mixed with flour don’t just make the most delicious loaves of bread. They make dough rise and expand so that beautiful bread can be baked and given to nourish bodies that are hungry. The treasure hidden in a field is not some miser’s horde that will collect dust until the miser dies. It is treasure that gives its owner joy and causes that owner to give up everything else, because great value doesn’t reside in many possessions. The fine pearl is of such beauty that even one small pearl is worth forsaking all other material things, because richness doesn’t consist in having much. And that big fishing net isn’t intended just for catching the largest number of fish. The image is meant to inspire discernment, so that through patient sifting, the choicest fish are kept.
Very little discernment is required to amass a fortune or to try to be the best in whatever you’re doing. But much discernment is required in making choices so that we can play our part in witnessing the greatness of God’s kingdom.
If we’re really honest, we probably don’t fully understand Jesus’ somewhat enigmatic parables. That’s okay, and pat yourself on the back for having the necessary humility to say so. But if we read the fine print and permit the Holy Spirit working within us to give us eyes of discernment, these parables will tell us something about who we are to become. We are to think more about the greatness that God alone can bring. For that to happen, humility is a term and condition. To find eternal treasure we are to give up much. To have big hearts, we are to have tiny egos. Finding greatness is not about us. It’s about a greatness that enfolds the very least of these.
The point is not for each of us to hope that God will make us or our human projects great, but instead for God to use us to provide greatly for others. If we’re going to check that box and say yes to the terms and conditions with some degree of truthfulness, we must read the fine print. And that fine print tells us in no uncertain terms that we must lose our life to find it, and to experience the glory of God, we must be servants. For if we lose our lives for the sake of the Gospel, we will find life. But more importantly, others who have little will find life, too.
So Jesus asks us now, have you understood all this? But before we answer the question, let’s read the fine print. And then, and only then, can we honestly say yes to the greatness of God, who makes all things new.
Preached by Father Kyle Babin
26 July 2020
Saint Mark’s Church, Philadelphia
[1] Matthew 20:26-27