Wednesday, July 20, 2011

The Sort

Preaching this Sunday.  It*s like adding yeast to flour.  Years ago I used to make bread.  I remember punching down the dough after the first rising, putting it in a warm place to rise again.  This morning I woke with my head spinning around all the parables.  I figure this is part of that first punching down.  We*ll see what it looks like after the second rising, and the baking.  I think I remembered to put salt in the dough.  Nothing worse than a tasteless loaf of bread.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like
Wheat and weeds growing
To be harvested together,
Only sorted
At the end.
The Kingdom:
It*s all the fish of the world
Swimming together,
Only gathered into nets
And sorted
In the end.
I remember the fairy tale:
The girl who was given the task
Of sorting all the grains of wheat
Out of a huge pile.
She enlisted the ants
To help her.
She could not do it alone.

I sort and sift and net
The parables of the Kingdom
Jesus told
plus a few more.
Instead of neat orderly piles,
They grow
(Mother used to say)
Like Topsy
(I never knew who Topsy was
But I knew she was always growing
Bigger than anything I ever knew)

Like mustard seeds
They become mustard trees,
Birds nest there.

Like yeast
They make more than enough bread
For the veritable Feast
At the end
More than enough bread
For the Heavenly Banquet.

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