Let
us pray. May the imperfect words of my
mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O God, our
rock and our redeemer.
Ok,
let’s clear some things up. Before we go
forward in besmirching the honorable name of Mulberry in talking about our
gospel text for this morning, I thought I should let you know that the Illinois
Everbearing Mulberry originated in White County, Illinois, in 1958. The fruit’s flavor is, and I quote, “good to
very good, very sweet, considered best by many.” The tree is “vigorous, extremely hardy, and
productive.”[1]
When
I shared this in a former congregation, I received a note from one of the
prolific landscapers that the word “hardy” is code language for a shallow root
system that is invasive and that that root system destroys everything around
it. Mulberry roots are known to be expansive, aggressive, and cause damage to
structures. The wide-ranging root system
makes it impossible to get out of the ground.
Thanks, I think? I promised to
share this information with future congregations. And here we are.
Teaching
in rural Galilee, to people who are or were formerly peasant farmers, I think
Jesus assumes his disciples know the realities of all things “mulberry.” His hope that we might uproot the mulberry
tree to be thrown into the sea gives us a clue what Jesus considers to be
shallow but invasive, aggressive, and destructive to the everyday life of a
rural Jew. For the author of Luke
collects sayings as a way of clueing us in.
Later on in Luke, it is those people who are the powerful exploiters
that harm children who might have a millstone tied around their neck and thrown
into the sea. It is the oppressive and
violent Roman military who act as the Gerasene demon, possess a man and have
him violently cutting himself, that Jesus casts into pigs and then they run
into the sea. It is again the Roman
Empire in the visions of Revelation which the angel takes as a millstone and
throws into the sea.
To
remember that all through Jewish mythology “the sea” is the place of primordial
chaos, the place beyond the reach of God’s goodness, a place reserved for those
who do not wish to be a part of God’s creative rhythm, cannot accept God’s
diverse, life-bearing order—an order fashioned with pillars of justice.
For
Jews living in occupation, oppression, hunger, and violent repression, Rome
seems as all-powerful. The people must
ask, “How can we possibly have faith that God is at work, that things can be
different, that we might do anything to create change when the violent
destroyers, their root system shallow but pervasive and ruining everything, run the world?
Do we need to have some great trust that God is just when injustice
seems to hold sway? Do we need to have
some great trust that love moves the dial, Jesus, when all around us it feels
like the world is unraveling? How do we
unseat the mulberry tree that is shallow but is so pervasive and destructive,
not allowing life or thriving for anything else?
Jesus
responds that, even if you see yourself as small, something the world might see
as a weed itself, just get started. And
the way a mustard seed works is it moves from underneath and becomes constant,
regular, and pervasive. But start
small.
The
story is told of the Dunnes Stores Strikers in Ireland. David Nihill, Irish author and comedian tells
it best. He refers to the women who
started small as the grapefruit ladies.
In Ireland, 41 years ago, ten white ladies working in grocery stores said, “We refuse to sell grapefruits imported from South Africa any more in this grocery store and by doing that we’re going to end apartheid. And then said, ‘Who’s with us?’”
And the whole of Ireland said, “We really don’t like grapefruits, to be honest, it’s more of a luxury product. And I don’t know if you’ve looked outside but we really don’t have any black people either, so best of luck with that strategy.”
To be honest not a whole lot of people supported them. Maybe one or two politicians, but for the most part the police were against them, the trade unions were against them, and Dunne stores, the grocery store they worked in, was against them.
And just a lot of the country
And they were delighted one day when this Black fella called Nimrod showed up and they were like, “Ooooh, must be workin’, I’ve never seen a black guy before and there’s one out there right now so we’re having an impact.” These ladies had never met a black person before despite protesting on behalf of their rights.
And this guy Nimrod said to them, “Ladies, what you’re doing is so potentially impactful that I can’t even really properly vocalize it so I’m just going to stand with you every single day in solidarity until people pay attention.”
And he stood with them every single day for six months walking three miles each way to get there with the ladies and nobody paid much attention at all, to be honest.
Until it made its way to a rather interesting man Archishop Desmond Tutu. On his way to pick up his Nobel Peace Prize he was like, “I’ve got to meet the grapefruit ladies.” And he did. He flew over to meet with them in London.
And because of that a rather interesting man in America got wind of it. And he said, “I’ve never heard of a bunch of white people protesting over something that affects with them so little. This is fantastic. I have to march with these grapefruit ladies.” That was Rev. Jesse Jackson. And he did march with the grapefruit ladies.
That was enough to get the attention of a guy on his Long Walk to Freedom on Robben Island, South Africa. And he said, “Once in a while, you hear other people fighting on behalf of you, and it just really inspires you to keep going. I have to meet with the grapefruit ladies.” That was Nelson Mandela. And in 1990 he flew to Ireland to meet with the grapefruit ladies. By that stage the Irish government had given in, the trade unions had given in, the grocery store, Dunne Stores had given in, and Ireland became the first country in the Western world to ban the import and sale of all goods from South Africa thereby helping ending apartheid with a fruit that Ireland doesn’t really like.
It's a lovely bit of history that all too often gets forgotten. But Nelson Mandela never forgot. When Nelson Mandela passed away, he made sure the ladies were welcome guests of honor should they want to attend. And they did attend in a free South Africa they helped create.
It was only then that Nimrod, the one black guy who showed up at the protests in Dublin, got around to telling him who he actually was. He had been Nelson Mandela’s cellmate on Robben Island, he knew exactly what he was doing.
He knew that Irish people like speaking up for other oppressed groups and the Irish like the hip-hop, so they were a little bit black, and I tell you that story because the leader of those 10 people was called “Karen” so there you go.
I tell you that story so we might
remember who we are. And that our faith
does not really expect that much of us.
Just that we do not have to put up with mulberry trees that try to take
over our garden in invasive, violent, and aggressive ways. We can be the weeds who work in small,
constant, and pervasive ways to be the catalyst, or a small part, to overthrow
the violence with communal resistance, to join hands with God to prepare the
path of justice.
It
is the great Mexican-American writer and psychoanalyst, Clarissa Pinkola Estés,
born just down a way in good ole Gary, Indiana, who reminded us that we were
born for this. She wrote:
Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good. What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, continuing. We know that it does not take everyone on Earth to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale.
One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these -- to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.
There will always be times when you feel discouraged. I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it. I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate. [...]
In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.[2]
We live in desperate
times. In the time and place of Jesus,
it felt like the whole world was coming to an end, unraveling. And Jesus shared how the people might create
mutual aid networks to share food, attend to mutual healing, and piece together
a community that might offer resistance and transformation to the
violence.
We might not feel like a great ship
ready to sail. But collectively, maybe
we can see ourselves at least as a weed, small and non-threatening, but willing
to begin with grapefruit to be a soul on deck.
Be a soul on deck. Amen.
[2]
Clarissa Pinkola Estés, “You were made for this,” AWAKIN.ORG, https://www.awakin.org/v2/read/view.php?tid=548.
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