Luke’s parables on the kingdom of God being like mustard seed and yeast (Luke 13:18-21) give me hope today for two reasons—one for the exterior, practical life and one for the interior.
First, through these parables, Jesus tells me that the parts of my day and life that seem insignificant are not.
What unknowing person could look at a mustard seed and imagine what it could be? It’s astonishing that something so big and embracing could come from something so small. Same with yeast or sourdough starter. We begin with something—alive on its own but not yet activated—mix it with water and flour, and it expands in both substance and purpose.
Who would think that tying a shoe, filling a bowl with yogurt, trying and failing at crochet with my children, taking time to listen instead of rush on, checking in with a friend, persisting through the alarm clock to show up to prayer could hold the potential of a mustard seed or starter? But, here, in this gospel, God gives us hope that it does.
As St. Paul says, “we hope for what we do not see” (Romans 8:25). We ask God for the grace to hope that he is making something out of what we deem insignificant.
In the words of Elisabeth Leseur, “It is only in heaven that we will realize how wonderfully God made use of the labor of these little workers: the multitude of small duties, the daily acts of self-sacrifice, the acceptance of pain, offered to the heavenly father, poor worthless metal transformed by God into gold for others, that pure gold of love enriching others and ourselves” (Selected Writings).
Now, some of the time we do not see the end of something—we wait in hope, “we wait with endurance” (Romans 8:25), especially as it pertains to heaven.
But, sometimes we do see the end—we see the seed become a tree, the yeast become a loaf, the child gain the skill, the conflict resolve, the prayer be answered.
This brings us to the second reason for hope.
When we do see the end, it’s a marvel to consider the inner workings of how it came to be. We are not in control of the seed sprouting or the wild yeast that consumes the flour and water to produce a rise. We are not responsible for neurons in the brain firing or hearts softening.
The kingdom will come—yes, we await its fullness. And also—the kingdom is coming now in our hearts and lives. We hope for what will be because part of that hope is already here.