Process & Faith: 27 July 2008

Lectionary Commentary

See also: [2005] [2002]

Ps. 105:1-11, 45b
Gen. 29:15-28
Rom. 8:26-39
Matt. 13:31-33, 44-52

How the tables have turned! Jacob was the one who gained the advantage over his brother by trickery; now Jacob is the one who is deceived. And how complicated the story now becomes with this quaternity of siblings: Jacob and Esau, Rachel and Leah.

Perhaps the best way to approach this is from the broader perspective of God’s covenant with Israel—a move supported by Jacob’s dual identity as Jacob/Israel, and also by the Midrash on the hapless Leah. In some commentaries, “Jacob” is married to Rachel and “Israel” is married to Leah, thus emphasizing his twin missions (also underscored by his being a twin). In another interpretation, commentators write that Esau was intended for Leah and Jacob for Rachel; when Jacob steals the blessing, he must fulfill his brother’s role as well as his own in establishing the twelve tribes of Israel.

Because that is what’s at stake here: the shift from the individual (Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebecca) to the community. It is signified by the forthcoming change in Jacob’s name to Israel, and by the narrative introduction of 12 male children (six by Leah, two by her maid Zilpah, two by Rachel, and two by her maid Bilhah). In Jewish mystical literature, Rachel is identified with the divine presence, the Shekinah. When Benjamin, the last of the twelve, is born, Rachel dies and the Shekinah passes from her to the twelve tribes; that is, to the community, the incipient nation of Israel.

So much attention is placed on the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, that this story serves as a welcome reminder that these sisters, Rachel and Leah—through pregnancy or surrogacy—are the mothers of the twelve tribes of Israel. Moreover, although Leah must endure a loveless marriage, it is from her son, Judah, that most of Israel’s kings will come, including David.

In preaching this text, then, it might be refreshing to focus on Leah. Although she gets the short end of the stick, and the tradition favors her sister, it is clear that God is there for Leah. She is blessed with many children, and her role in the covenant between God and Israel is clearly acknowledged. This suggests a parallel to our own lives, that although our attention may be drawn to the major players in history—or in our own families—God is not so limited. When the attention, the prominence, the spotlight, is focused on one individual, by life in general, or by a parent, or an employer, God is a steadfast presence in every life, even those in the shadows. God is always offering possibilities, opportunities, and even pleasures to enrich our lives and strengthen us for whatever contribution we can make to the well-being of the world.

The preacher may offer a contemporary midrash on Leah to further lift up her story, then use the psalm to make the transition to the present day, because “God is mindful of God’s covenant forever, and of the word that God commanded, for a thousand generations.” In other words, the God who comforted Leah is the same God that comforts us today. This God fills us with trust and hope, no matter what our circumstances, for we are the offspring not just of Jacob, as the Psalm affirms, but of these two sisters, Leah and Rachel.

That Christians are the offspring of Jacob and heirs to the promise is the point that Paul is at some pains to demonstrate throughout his letter to the Romans. His concern is understandable in the context of the 1st-century sorting-out between Jews and nascent Christians, but how does one understand this today, without either misappropriating Judaism or making supercessionist claims? In process theology, one addresses apparent conflicts by turning them into contrasts, which are held together in a container large enough to respect both. That larger container here is creation itself. In the multiplicity of creation, human and nonhuman, and in the creative presence of God in every moment of every living thing, all of life is interconnected. In the words of the elders, “We are all related.”

And should we not know how to open our hearts to God, Paul assures us that the indwelling Spirit knows us and intercedes for us “with sighs too deep for words.” We do not need to linger on the suggestion of election if we acknowledge that Paul is writing to his own community and understands salvation within a Christian context. Certainly, it is appropriate for Christians to desire to conform to the image of Christ and to expect that God is their advocate and guide in this effort.

In the beloved lines that follow (“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 Jesus Christ our Lord”), we are assured of the divine presence no matter what. The themes of trust and hope ring through these verses, echoing the promise of the psalm, that God is mindful of God’s covenant forever, for a thousand generations.

What that covenant might look like, if God’s will is done on earth, as it is in heaven, is shown to us by Matthew in a series of short parables. The basileia of God is like a mustard seed. The basileia of God is like yeast mixed into bread. The basileia of God is like a treasure hidden in a field, or a pearl of great value. It is realized when it takes root, when it rises, when one sells all one has for it.

As was the case in last week’s parable of the sower, these are wonderfully organic images that locate the basileia of God in this world. The parable of the fishnet, which suggests an eschatological reading, is the one the Jesus Seminar sees as a Matthean addition. (The others are “pink”—Jesus probably said it—while the parable of the yeast is “red”—Jesus undoubtedly said this or something very like it.)

Thus we have a mustard seed that grows and spreads like weed. It is not majestic (imperial), but common, which is to say, more likely to be shared by many. It is widely available, not restricted to the wealthy or the elite (or to those of a particular race, ethnicity, gender, or sexual preference). The very profligate nature of a weed echoes the deuteronomic admonition, “Surely this is not to hard for you, or too far away (Deut. 30:11). The basileia of God is possible; it is not out of reach. It is worth dedicating our lives to.

The parable of the yeast demonstrates that the corrupt element—sinful humanity?—is concealed within the flour. The Jesus Seminar makes the connection between the fifty pounds of flour in this parable and the fifty pounds Sara was told to make into cakes for her angelic visitors (Gen. 18:6), suggesting that the number celebrates an epiphany—a manifestation of God. In the panentheistic cosmos of process theology, God is in us and we are in God. That we are in God is not concealed from the deity, but perhaps in our willfulness we have concealed it from ourselves? That we are thoroughly received into God, exactly as we are, suggests a divine love (and forgiveness) that again suggests a grateful response of trust and hope.

Finally, the parables of the treasure and the pearl suggest that the basileia of God is a matter of discernment, of a choice between many possibilities, and the determination to place our greatest value with God and, by extension, with what God desires for creation. Because although the protagonists of these parables—the “someone” who finds the treasure, the merchant—are individuals, the parables must be read in the overarching context of God’s basileia, which is the shared commonwealth of God. In other words, the “someone” doesn’t buy the field to keep it for himself; the merchant doesn’t buy the pearl to hoard it. The basileia points to attitudes and behaviors that promote the common good. It is up to each of us to make that choice, to find our highest value in God (the treasure, the pearl). But the choice we make is to live in such a way that we will contribute to the realization of God’s will for all of creation.

The Rev. Dr. Jeanyne Slettom is associate pastor of Congregational UCC, in Brea, California, and managing director of Process & Faith. She has taught as adjunct faculty at Claremont School of Theology and United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities. She is the editor of The Process Perspective, by John B. Cobb, Jr. (Chalice Press).

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