Sunday, June 17, 2012

The Parable Parable

Sermon preached on 17 June 2012 at St. Augustine's Episcopal Parish.



The Gospel of St. Mark chapter four is amazing to me.  Here sits a beautiful little treatise on parables in the form of a story that is written as a kind of parable itself: rich with symbols and veiled meaning.  This meta-parable in Mark 4 functions much like any piece of great literature, portraying far more than a particular story set in one place and one time.  It opens a window through which we are able to view an aspect the universal human condition, that which is true in all places and all times.

The meta-parable opens with the words,

Again he began to teach beside the sea.  Such a very large crowd gathered around him that he got into a boat on the sea and sat there, while the whole crowd was beside the sea on the land.

“The sea” is a prominent character in this parable.  Whenever the character of the sea makes an appearance in ancient literature, it is of great mythic importance.  And in the Jewish tradition, the sea plays a central role in the process by which God creates and transforms the world.  In modern psychological terms, the sea can be understood to symbolize the unconscious, that place in our mind reserved for emotions, urges, and thoughts of which we are not consciously aware.  The unconscious is commonly represented by the image of an iceberg with 90% of its mass submerged and out of sight.

St. Mark puts Jesus out in a boat floating atop the great mythic sea talking to the crowd that remains standing on the land.  In our meta-parable, Jesus teaches from the seat of the unconscious, from where no one is able to possess his words with the conscious mind alone.  In St. Luke’s quite different account of this story the additional detail is given that the people were “pressing in on him to hear the word of God.”  The crowd wants to have what Jesus has for their own, and they want to possess it just like they possess everything else in their lives: as a component part of their conscious awareness, of the way that they understand the world.  But the word of God that Jesus speaks will not be possessed that way.  Jesus teaches from a boat floating out on the sea.

Our meta-parable continues with what Jesus has to say to the crowd from his seat out in the unconscious.  Mark 4, verse 2 says, “He began to teach them many things in parables . . .” Jesus chooses to address his landlubbing audience using the very literary form we’ve been discussing, the parable.  That’s why I’ve titled this sermon, “The Parable Parable.”  So what exactly is a parable?  We’ve already established that parables are rich in symbolic content, and that they don’t merely tell a story set in one place and one time, but many of us have misunderstandings about what parables are and how they work.  One such misunderstanding is that parables are riddles that are to be solved by thinking really hard about them.  They are not.  Another is that parables are fables used to teach moral lessons to children in Sunday school.  They aren’t that either.

A parable is a form of teaching that uses everyday objects to open up a dialog between our unconscious and the Holy Spirit.  In the course of that dialog, the Spirit uses things that are visible to our eyes and audible to our ears to illumine our inner vision and speak to the ear of our heart.  To try to understand a parable without entering into a dialog with Spirit, is to “look, but not perceive,” to “listen, but not understand,” as Jesus says in verse twelve of Mark 4. 

How, then, do we enter into the dialog?  How do we allow our unconscious to be engaged by the Holy Spirit as we listen to the parables Jesus speaks to us from the boat?  Well, if we return to our meta-parable in Mark 4, the answer comes at the end of the chapter, which is actually in next week’s Gospel reading.  But, since I don’t preach next week, I’ll go ahead and give it to you ahead of schedule.  We enter into dialog with the Holy Spirit by stepping off of the land and into a boat.  Listen to verses 35 and 36:

On that day, when evening had come, he said to [his disciples], “Let us go across to the other side. And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was (already in the boat).  Other boats were with him.

Jesus says, “Let’s travel together across the sea; let’s make our way together deep into the unconscious.”  So the disciples join Jesus in the boat from which he was teaching, and notice the last words of verse 36, “Other boats were with him.”  Other people had already left the land and joined him in their own boats.  We enter into dialog with the Holy Spirit about the teachings of Jesus by getting into our own boat and leaving the crowd behind.

I can’t tell you what your boat looks like and how you’re supposed to get into it.  The conversation is between your unconscious and the Holy Spirit herself.  I would, however, like to share what it looks like for me, as a Benedictine, to step foot off the shore and into my boat.  Perhaps you can hear from my experience something that will help you leave the land in your own way.

The Benedictine tradition into which I have been called has a really old boat that I’ve climbed into almost every day for more than two years.  This boat has a fancy Latin name.  It’s called, lectio divina, which means divine or sacred reading.  The practice of lectio involves slow, meditative reading of Holy Scripture.  And, as it’s been taught to me, I move in a linear fashion through books of the Bible, two, three, six verses each day.  I read these short passages out loud and very slowly four times.  After quieting my mind, the first time I read with my feet firmly on the land.  I observe the words and events, let my thoughts arise, and let them go.  I then pause and quiet my mind again.  The second time I read the passage with my feet in the shallow water.  I listen for a word or phrase or idea that sticks out above the others.  I hold it for a moment then quiet my mind again.  On the third reading, I climb aboard the boat.  I ask Jesus, my Master, my Teacher, to show me what he has for me to see and hear in this passage, and I ask the Holy Spirit to kindle her flame and enlighten my heart.  I read and then write a brief sentence or two in my journal about what I have been shown.  At this point I am far from the shore and floating among the deep water.  After pausing again, I ask what, in the deepest parts of my own being, in my unconscious, is in need of divine attention and correction.  I sit and wait until a word rises within me.  When it is given for me to carry, I write it in my journal.   I return to this word several times in the course of each day.

This is what it looks like for me to engage in dialog with Spirit about the word of God that Jesus speaks from the boat floating on the sea.  It is my hope that you will find your way into your own boat, and that you will brave the threatening waters that keep the crowd stuck on the land.  Know that as you push off, Jesus will be with you as your guide and teacher.

Amen.

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