Proper 6, Year B 2024: Mark 4:26-34

Studying for her doctorate in medicine, Martha Jones was inside Royal Hope Hospital when it was transported to the moon. Showing great bravery in the face of alien invaders, Martha was invited to join the Doctor in traveling through space and time. After some time traveling together, the Doctor was captured. Using what she had learned during their time together, Martha traveled the world telling the story of the Doctor, his resistance, and all he had done to help the people of Earth in his more than 900 years of life. The telling and retelling of the story generated psychic energy which led to the Doctor’s release and his foe’s defeat.

Now this is, of course, a story of science fiction. But in it is an important truth about the power of storytelling. Martha Jones’s around-the-world storytelling tour created a powerful hope in the people to which she told it. That kind of hope is real and it is true. It’s why dictators throughout time and across cultures have tried to control stories, in an attempt to control ideas and emotions. 

Christianity is a faith of stories. From the very beginning of Genesis to the end of Revelation, storytelling is used to teach us of our past, to explain the present, and to give hope for the future. Jesus used stories throughout his entire ministry either to make his meaning clearer or to veil his meaning from those who wished to entrap him. And Jesus’ parables are not literal accounts of things that happened. These parables from Mark today are about the closest Jesus comes to a straightforward description of a thing that happens, the hyperbole of the mustard tree being the greatest of all the shrubs aside. But the prodigal son wasn’t a guy Jesus knew. The good Samaritan, also, not a friend of Jesus’. But storytelling is a powerful pedagogical tool while a good cover to be able to say, “I didn’t say all priests are too concerned with purity laws to help a man on the side of the road, just this one priest in this story was. Maybe don’t be like him, but I didn’t blame all y’all.” wink wink. In teaching through parables, Jesus was toeing a dangerous political line.

I’ve always been struck by the word “parable”. I don't think I’ve ever heard it in a context other than describing one of these stories of Jesus in the Gospels. The word “parable” is just a transliteration of the Greek παραβολή. So why that word. There were other options, right? Comparison, metaphor, fable, proverb. So what’s so special about a parable? A parable is what you’ve been taught it is, if you’ve been hearing the parables of Jesus your whole life like I have. A parable is a teaching aid cast alongside the truth being taught. This casts additional light by using an arresting or familiar analogy, (which is often fictitious or metaphorical, but not necessarily). So these parables in Mark’s Gospel are a really good “starter lesson” on parables. They’re not particularly complicated. Which makes sense with where we are in Mark’s Gospel. Even though Mark’s storytelling moves at a rapid fire pace, the disciples were just appointed in chapter 3. Today’s parables are the last two in a series of five parables, kind of the end of “Parables 101”. Mustard seed is tiny. It grows into something huge, way bigger than you’d ever think something tiny could grow into. Place that parallel to our faith. Even if we feel like our faith is tiny, like said mustard seed, it can also grow into something seemingly disproportionately huge.

But, while a parable is a metaphorical comparison, a pithy and instructive saying, and a placing of one thing by the side of another, like a juxtaposition, I was intrigued by the last definition I found, which is what really makes the word stand out: an act by which one exposes himself or his possessions to danger, a venture, or a risk. And these stories that Jesus tells are dangerous. They’re risky. He is encouraging his listeners to reimagine how they see God. He’s giving them new ways to experience God and new ways to see themselves in relationship with God.

When we have an opportunity to tell our stories, to be a witness in the world to the light of Christ that is in us, we sometimes clam up. Sometimes it’s because we’re scared. We’ve seen the damage that can be done by toxicity in faith communities and are afraid of doing the same. When I was an undergrad, I took a summer reading criminology course where one of the books we read was about psychopaths. And in this book, the author described the personality traits that are most often held by psychopaths. And at the end of this chapter, the author said, you might recognize some of these traits in yourself. That is normal. Don’t panic. If you are worried about whether or not you are a psychopath, you aren’t one. Psychopaths don’t care what other people think and don’t worry about these kinds of things. I say that to say, if we are worried about our witness being the toxic faith environment in the world, by all means we ought to evaluate the way in which we tell our stories. But if we are truly witnessing to the faith that is in us, not evaluating other people’s experience of God but sharing our own experience, strength, and hope, then our witness can be powerful.

Episcopalians really like the quote attributed to St Francis, “preach the Gospel always. When necessary use words.” It’s a lovely quote. But we oftentimes then never find it “necessary” to use words, and then use St Francis as cover. But remember, St Francis was an itinerant preacher, that is, he went from place to place and used words to preach the Gospel. So, this quote isn’t an excuse to never speak up. It is a reminder that we ought to practice what we preach. To tell the story, and then live the story.

Sometimes we don’t tell our stories because they’re ours and so we’ve heard them too many times in our own heads. We know them so well that we think, “no one wants to hear that, it’s boring.” In seminary, we had to do a lot of self reflection. A lot of “reaction” papers. And toward the end of my last year, I got a text from a friend that simply read, “I am my least interesting subject.” And that really resonated with me, as I was writing my last assignment for my degree - a reflection paper. But the advantage to telling stories over and over again is that we get good at it. We learn how to tell the same story in different ways for different audiences. That’s what Jesus was doing - being a good storyteller and a good teacher by changing his methods for his audience. And in the storytelling, spreading the Good News.

I was once preparing to speak to a group. As part of the prep for the speaking engagement, the group sent out guidelines for speakers - what they encourage you to address, about how long to go, and it included this advice: remember, you are interesting. I had never had anyone say it quite like that. You, your person, that’s all that you need, to be authentic and honest and vulnerable, and that is interesting.

So tell your stories, even when it’s scary or uncomfortable. Your stories matter. Your witness is important in the world. You are interesting. And we always have the light that is Christ in us to show us the way. Amen.