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Saturday, July 30, 2011

The Astonishing Woman Baker


The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
Romans 8:26-39; Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
           
            For three weeks now, our Gospel lessons have been Jesus’ parables of the kingdom.  For most of us here, I think, the idea of the kingdom of God is a spiritual tenet—because few of us have lived in the kind of kingdom that Jesus’ followers knew.  The first people who heard these parables lived under Roman rule.  They knew the physical reality of a kingdom, and most of them experienced it as deeply oppressive.  But two thousand years later, we are happy with our participatory democracy.  Well maybe this week we are not so happy—but if the behavior of our elected representatives leaves us less than pleased, at least we know that we can vote them out at the next election!
            Maybe it is because we live in a democracy that is founded on principles of freedom and religious tolerance that we have grown accustomed to thinking of “the kingdom of heaven” as something that affects our spiritual lives—or rather something that will affect our spiritual lives after we leave this material life. 
            But Jesus was teaching about much more than what would happen to us in the sweet, bye and bye.  Jesus was talking about life right now, life right here in this world.  As Paul tells us in today’s lesson from his letter to the Romans, neither death, nor life. . . will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.  So when Jesus tells his parables of the kingdom of heaven, he is not getting us ready for life in paradise.  He is trying to get us to think about right now.
            Of course, I know a lot of people, and sometimes I am one of them, who come to church exactly because it is nice to shut out the world for an hour a week.  It is nice to come into this space—not as cool as we would like it to be today, of course—but still a holy place, a place where shadows glow in the colors of the stained glass and candlelight, where we are accustomed to speaking in hushed tones, where the reverberation of the organ seems to tune our hearts to hear God’s whisper.
            And on a week like this week—when our government seems to be heading toward financial chaos, when the capital of world-wide peace is racked by a crazed terrorist, when nature seems intent on bringing us to unknown levels of discomfort—well, the idea of a weekly escape seems like a good thing.
            There’s only one problem with the notion.  It is not what Jesus taught.
            Jesus cared for the people right where they were.  He healed them and fed them and taught them.  He cared deeply for the least and the lost of society.  He gathered the children to himself, not because they were cute, but because they had so little power in their society.  He engaged in theological discussion—sometimes with scribes and Pharisees, but much more often with women and fishermen, with tax collectors and sinners.  Jesus cared for the lives of the people, and so he cared that they understood that even as they suffered under the oppression of Roman rule, they were important citizens of the kingdom of God.  Today’s Gospel lesson gives us five quick images of the kingdom of God.[1]
            The kingdom of God is like the tiny mustard seed that grows into a plant so large that birds may nest in it.  And so we know that the kingdom of God can grow from the least auspicious beginning.
            The kingdom of God is like treasure hidden in a field.  When someone finds the treasure he first he tucks it safely away in a field and then he buys the field.  And so we know that the kingdom of heaven is worth obtaining and protecting.
            The kingdom of heaven is like a pearl of great price, so beautiful that the pearl broker gives all that he has to get it.  And so we know that the kingdom of heaven is worth giving up all that we have.
            The kingdom of heaven is like a dragnet thrown into the sea that catches all manner of fish and is full to overflowing when it is pulled up.  And so we know that the kingdom of heaven is available to all.
            My favorite of Jesus’ images of the kingdom is this one: The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.  There is a wonderful commentary on these parables, written by Robert Farrar Capon.  Father Capon is an Episcopal priest, a theologian and a cookbook writer.  In fact, I first came across Father Capon’s work when I was a teenager learning how to cook.  Capon points out a couple of things about this parable that may have seemed obviously striking to Jesus’ first listeners.
            First of all, Jesus uses a woman as the agent in his parable—just an early acknowledgement of what we—or at least of what our children—have taken for granted, that women make for just as good a metaphor about God’ action in the world as men do.  It may seem obvious to us that Jesus was speaking to everyone, men and women—but to the first ones who heard the parables Jesus’ inclusion of women was a shocking upset to their world view.
            Another thing that we might miss that was obvious to Jesus’ listeners is the abundance of the bread that the woman bakes.  As Father Capon tells us, “Three measures . . . is a bushel of flour, for crying out loud!  That’s 128 cups!  That’s 16 five-pound bags!”  (Kingdom, Grace, Judgement, p. 100).  For those of you who enjoy the visual image:  if Father Capon’s calculations are correct, then the woman in the parable mixed the yeast into enough flour to fill 40 of these bags.  I baked bread for our Eucharist this morning, using just half of this bag of flour—about three cups.  I made enough bread to offer Communion to about 150 people!  The woman in Jesus’ parable took that yeast, and mixed it into enough flour to offer a mouthful of bread to 12,000.  If it sounds like a lot of bread to you, imagine how you would feel if you were truly hungry this morning.  Imagine how you would feel if you rarely had a meal that filled you up.  The woman in Jesus’ parable was making an astonishing amount of bread.  She was making enough bread to feed many, many people.  And so we know that the kingdom of heaven is amazingly abundant and astonishingly nourishing.
            There is a third obvious thing about this parable that may be easy for us to miss.  The yeast and the water in the bread are mixed together from the very beginning.  When we make bread these days, it is usually with dried granules of yeast, but in Jesus’ day, the baker kept back a lump of dough from a batch of bread, and mixed it with water and kept the gluey mess in a jar or pot until the next time she made the bread.  The yeast and the water went into the flour together.  Indeed the flour never knew the yeast without the water that carried it.  And so we know another thing about the kingdom of God—just as the flour never knows the water without the yeast; we have never known a time outside of God’s grace.
            The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened. Jesus worked with what was obvious to show the people the astonishing love of God.
            Jesus taught us all he knew about the kingdom of heaven, about the new life lived in the Spirit of God.  He taught us that is life that can start small, but it will grow big and strong.  He taught us that it is worthy of protection, and more valuable than any other possession we might have.  He taught us that the new life lived in the Spirit is available to all of us.  And in the parable of the woman baker, he taught us that the Spirit of God has been there all along, and yearns for us to join in the new life we are offered.
            Perhaps that is the most astonishing thing of all about the kingdom of heaven—we are invited to participate in it.  Paul says it this way: 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. That is, even though we don’t really know what we are doing, the Spirit is right here with us, holding us up, helping us to live in God’s love right now—in the heat, whether we are poor or rich, whether we live in places of political stability or frightening fragility.            But there is even more—because with God, there is always more—and that is, we have the power to be the ones who bring God’s love to the people.  When we join in the new life lived in the Spirit of God, then we can be like the bread that is mixed and kneaded, is leavened and rises, and expands in the baking to nourish all the ones whom God loves.
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
July 24, 2011  Proper 12A
The Episcopal Church of the Atonement
The Rev. Nancy Webb Stroud

[1] This would be as good a place as any to say that I am indebted to the Rev. Robert Farrar Capon for his insightful interpretation of this parable.  See especially his three-part work, Kingdom, Grace, Judgment:  Paradox, Outrage, and Vindication in the Parables of Jesus (Grand Rapids, MI:  William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company), 2002.  
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A Brief Bio

The Rev. Nancy Webb Stroud was born in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, a middle child between two brothers. She attended the same high school as her father and grandmother, and then followed in her older brother's footsteps at the University of Virginia.

After taking her degree in English and Religious Studies, she became a teacher at a small, private elementary school in the Philadelphia suburbs, intending to begin seminary studies in a couple of years. Meanwhile, she taught third grade, was appointed director of the Lower School, conducted chapel services, and organized a yearly Arts Festival, bringing in outside performances for the enjoyment of students, faculty, and parents.

Nancy met Bill Stroud while singing with the Savoy Company of Philadelphia, which boasts of being the oldest continuously active Gilbert and Sullivan production group in this country. Following a successful production of The Mikado, with sets designed by Bill and excellent fan waving by both of them, Nancy and Bill were married at St. David's (Radnor) Church in 1983.

Julia, William, and Edward followed at even intervals. Nancy was absolutely delighted to be able to stay home with her little children, while Bill served as the property manager and graveyard superintendent of their parish church.

When Edward began first grade, the old notion of attending seminary returned. With no Episcopal seminary in commuting distance, she began to take courses at Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. To help cover the cost, she took a job as communications assistant, preparing weekly leaflets and monthly newsletter for St. Peter's in the Great Valley, an Episcopal Church near the one she and the family attended. After a few years, she was accepted into the ordination process in the Diocese of Pennsylvania.

She transferred to General Theological Seminary in New York for the last year of her studies, spending her weekends interning at a tiny church in the depressed urban center of Chester, Pennsylvania. By this time, Julia was a student at Barnard College in New York. So Nancy's weeks were split between daughter and studies in one city, and ministry, Bill and sons in another. Amtrak was the richer for it!

Following ordination, Nancy served as the interim assistant at St. Paul's, Chestnut Hill in Philadelphia very near Bill's high school. For four months, she worked with a lovely congregation (many of whom told her stories of Bill as a boy) and a wonderful interim rector who had served in the Diocese for nearly fifty years. As that ministry was ending she received a call as assistant (later associate) rector back at St. Peter's in the Great Valley.

Nancy served St. Peter's during a time of transition, and so had the opportunity to work with three very gifted and very different rectors. As her ministry as Associate Rector was ending in the summer of 2009, she was delighted to receive the call to become Rector of the Episcopal Church of the Atonement in Westfield, Massachusetts.

Nancy and Bill moved to Westfield at the end of September, 2009, and are enjoying their new home. ECOTA is a congregation of about 325, and is the only Episcopal Church in town. The Diocese of Western Massachusetts is served by lively and committed clergy, and Nancy is enjoying getting to work with great colleagues in ministry.

Bill left property management as Nancy's career started, and returned to his love of theatre and history, working as a costumed interpreter of the 18th century for Historic Philadelphia. He is now enjoying opportunities for historic interpretation and stage acting all around the Pioneer Valley, and has begun to market his hand-crafted colonial reproduction men's hats.

Meanwhile, children grow! Julia lives in Manhattan where she is attends Union Theological Seminary. Will is a new college graduate, still living in the Philadelphia area. Ed is in the midst of his first co-op at Drexel University. He will spend the summer of 2011 as a Storyteller for Historic Philadelphia. Look for him on the bench outside the Arch Street Friends' Meeting when you visit the City of Brotherly Love.