A mustard seed

From Wellington Cathedral of St Paul

A mustard seed: 3 October 2010: am: The Very Revd Frank Nelson

• Psalm 137
• Lamentations 1: 1 - 6
• 2 Timothy 1: 1 - 14
• Luke 17: 5 - 10

It all started with a throw away comment after a shopping spree. Wouldn’t it be good if …? That was the beginning. Like any really good idea it took a while to catch on; as if it needed to stay hidden in the ground for a while. Then, like the beans we used to plant in cotton wool as children, it poked its head out. A few people began to talk about it, others joined in. A bottle or two of wine was opened, ideas flowed. The seemingly random ideas were committed to paper; more were added over the months. An appointment was made. A short paper prepared. A presentation given. The idea dropped into the pond. The ripples flowed outwards and more people said yes. A date was fixed; a committee convened. The hard work began. Ticks against boxes began to collect; deadlines came, were met and the work continued. Setbacks there certainly were. But the vision held.

Less than two days ago our beloved cathedral found herself transformed into an elegant ball room – ready to receive ladies in beautiful dresses, men smart in bow tie and dinner jacket. Sacred space took on a new dimension as smoke filtered through lights. The cross on the altar sparkled, reflecting spinning glittering globes suspended where heads are normally bent in prayer. As trumpets blared and trombone sparred with sax, couples took to the floor. And, of this there can be no doubt, God in heaven, surrounded by Michael and all the angels, rejoiced and smiled and said: Another mustard seed has struck!

What a wonderful thing to come back to – the Fiat Lux Spring Ball. Let there be light. There was light indeed. Thank you to all who allowed that initial idea to grow, to flourish, and come to fruition. Thank you to the Ball Committee – for your courage, tenacity and sheer hard work over the past months. Thank you to the young adults and members of the choir, and to many others who showed up to move chairs, to pick up tables, scrub the floors, serve food and drink, dance away much of the night, and then be back yesterday morning to put all the chairs back and have the Cathedral ready for worship this morning. Thank you. And of course, thank you to those of you who, despite occasional misgivings, believed in Megan and her team, bought tickets, and came to the Ball to have a ball. I think you did. I am not sure about moving mountains, but you certainly moved the cathedral.

Yet it could so easily have been different. It could so easily have come to nothing. An idea, like that tiny mustard seed Jesus talked about, is a fragile and easily lost thing. In the short parable for today Jesus talks about faith being like a mustard seed growing into a tree. Faith too is a very fragile thing. A bad experience of church, an uncaring or thoughtless comment, and it can disappear overnight. Faith, like the mustard seed, the idea for a ball, must be fed, cajoled at times, be kept informed, encouraged and nurtured.

Today’s reading from the book of Lamentation provides a sobering example of faith gone wrong. Read the pages of the Old Testament and the wonderful story, the old old story, of God’s extra-ordinary love is laid bare. Beginning with a simple invitation to Abram to leave his home and look for greener pastures, the story of God’s love is traced through the Patriarchs from Aram to Egypt to the hill country above Canaan. The story threads together the lives of Abraham’s offspring and descendents, taking in Jacob’s ladder, Joseph’s coat and Puah’s faithfulness to her people. Like waves on the sea the story ebbs and flows. Moses sees the fiery bush, overcomes his shyness and leads his people into and through the Red Sea. With trumpets at least as loud as those of the Liberty Swing Band on Friday night Joshua and his merry men crossed the Jordan and brought down Jericho. Through Deborah, Jerubbaal and Sampson (Delilah not withstanding) God’s people know God’s love. Samuel appoints Saul (who fails), then David as king. David takes Bathsheba, repents and rules – long remembered as the greatest of all kings of the land.

This fragile thing of God’s love, this dream built on faith, is kept alive by the most unlikely of people: the youngest son, the stuttering shepherd, the faithful foreigner. It takes just one to know, to see, to hold the vision. And so we come to the prophets. Elijah takes on Jezebel. Amos takes on those he calls ‘cows’, who drink and eat while others starve. But it’s Isaiah and then Jeremiah who really call the bluff. Where people think they are fine - after all, they have the temple, they have the temple, we have the temple of the Lord – these brave yet troublesome men say all is not so well. But greed is a strange thing. It blinds us all. It makes us foolish. It sucks us in. The pressure builds. We close our eyes. The armies surround. We look for help. Not to God, but to Egypt, Assyria, Babylon – to Baal.

Come 586 BC and it’s all over. The dream is shattered. The king is dead. The temple pillaged. The city lies ruined. The land is blackened. The people are gone. Nebuchadnezzar and his armies have come.

And now, what can we say? How lonely sits the city that once was full of people! How like a widow she has become, she that was great among the nations! She weeps bitterly in the night with tears on her cheeks. Judah has gone into exile with suffering and hard servitude. The roads to Zion mourn, for no one comes to the festivals … her young girls grieve, and her lot is bitter. And they say, “Sing us one of the songs of Jerusalem.” But how can we sing the Lord’s song in this alien land? If I forget you O Jerusalem let my right hand wither away, my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth.

The dream, the faith, the love-story, so fragile, is shattered and gone. Our greed has done that. Our blindness has brought darkness. Our selfishness has destroyed our children’s future.

The writings of Jeremiah, including the heart rending book called Lamentations, sees disaster complete. The thread, so fragile at the best of times, is surely snapped. Yet even Jeremiah finds hope in the hopelessness, light in the darkness. Listen carefully next week and you will hear a quite remarkable letter of hope and pragmatism. Yes, disaster has struck. Yes, your homes are destroyed, your temple sacked, your city razed. But you still have life. God has not forgotten you. Pick yourself up. Get on with life.

A chance comment about a ball in a cathedral, a snatch of faith as small as a mustard seed, the thread of God’s love emerging time and again in unlikely places, including a cross – this is the stuff of faith, of worship, of light and life. This is the story. This is that story. This is our story.