Jesus’ preferred teaching style is the parable.  Although the format of the parable is not rigidly structured, it is Jesus’ preferred teaching genre whenever his topic is the Dream of God (or Reign of God).  The reason parables are so effective when expounding the Dream of God is that a parable is a seemingly “neutral” story or expression of common sense that exposes the distorted myths by which most people live their lives.  And although we moderns like to believe that the manner whereby we conduct our lives is based solely on sound principles and rational facts, the reality is that the lives we live are predominantly based on myths — our projected assumptions and beliefs.    

For example, a modern myth that defines us and our society is that of the “American Dream.”  According to this myth, one can expect to participate in the “good life” — own a home with a two-car garage (and, of course, the two cars that go in the garage), take vacations every year, send the kids to the college of their choice, and retire by age 65.  On a more serious level, the “American Dream” has been a vision of American entitlement and invincibility.  Historically, this myth was embodied politically (and often religiously) in the guise of “Manifest Destiny.”  According to this myth, America is entitled to whatever lands and resources it “needs” or desires — regardless of the rights and concerns of the indigenous peoples who occupied the land or owned the resources.  Consciously or not, this myth has shaped and formed our collective and individual worldviews. 

A myth, then, is very powerful and is often what holds people’s lives together — both individually and collectively.  A myth, by its nature, is an attempt to resolve the tensions of everyday life by promising an idealized lifestyle which exempts one from all the problems and challenges of ordinary life.  And whenever our myths begin to falter — allowing the realities and uncertainties of the world to take center stage — our leaders will often try to find ways to recapture the presumed reality of the communal myth.  For example, at the height of the cold war, John F. Kennedy attempted to revitalize the American Dream by sending humans to the moon.  Yet even though American astronauts did in fact land on the moon, the war in Vietnam exposed our wanton disregard for the sovereignty of other nations and human rights and our aura of being an honest broker was undermined.  At the turn of this century, the myth of American invincibility was again challenged by the attack on the World Trade Center.  And despite the efforts of our leaders to reclaim our national myth through the engagement of a “war of liberation” — a war to exorcise the world of evildoers — the reality of “collateral damage,” Gitmo, and Abu Grab undermined our prestige around the world as a civilized society that upholds the rule of law and espouses fundamental human rights.  And today this myth of unbounded entitlement justifies the disavowal of the fundamental rights of fellow citizens whose viewpoints or identities differ from one’s own. 

Yet our experience is not unlike that of the Jewish people of Jesus’ time.  The Jewish religion and culture also had a particular myth which formed and shaped their identity as a people.  And the reign (dream) of God made specific promises — identifying the Jewish people as God’s chosen people who would triumph over their enemies.  The reign of God, when it came, would introduce a glorious new age of universal peace, with God’s chosen people, the Jewish nation, vanquishing evil empires and wielding supreme power.  Sounds familiar, doesn’t it. 

In the Jewish tradition this understanding of the reign of God was symbolized by the great Cedar of Lebanon.  The Cedar of Lebanon would be comparable in our context to a giant redwood.  The Cedar of Lebanon grew straight and tall — up to two or three hundred feet in height.  Its branches were massive, and all kinds of birds enjoyed its shade and shelter.  This image was deeply embedded in both the culture and the psyche of the Jewish people.  The reign of God, it was understood, would cast the kingdom of Israel as the greatest of nations even as the Cedar of Lebanon was the greatest of trees. 

But Jesus doesn’t see it that way.  Jesus asks, “To what can we compare the reign of God, or what parable (or symbol) will we use for it?”  And instead of using the cultural image of a Cedar of Lebanon, Jesus compares the reign of God to a mustard seed — proverbially the smallest of seeds.  But, more importantly, to a first century Jew, the use of a mustard seed as the image for the reign of God is an attention getter.  To the ancient Jewish mind, not unlike the modern mind, order was identified with holiness and godliness and chaos with uncleanness and ungodliness.  Hence, there were very strict rules concerning how and what one could plant in one’s garden.  The rabbinical law of diverse kinds ruled that mustard was forbidden in a household garden because mustard was a very invasive plant.  Shockingly, an unclean plant becomes the starting point for Jesus’ description of the reign of God.  And if the starting point is an unclean image, the rest of the parable becomes even more perplexing when we consider the botanical facts of the mustard plant.  Mustard is a common, fast-spreading plant which grows to be only about four feet in height.  It puts out a few measly branches, and perhaps, with some stretch of the imagination, a bird or two might build small nests in its shade — hardly an image of grandeur or of shelter and protection. 

Still, steeped in their cultural myth and the images of the Great Cedar of Lebanon, the hearers would be expecting Jesus’ unexpected symbol of the reign of God to grow into a mighty apocalyptic tree.  But Jesus’ point is exactly the opposite.  A mustard seed will never be more than a bush.  Thus, the image of the reign of God as a towering Cedar of Lebanon is explicitly mocked.  According to Jesus, the reign of God is like a mustard seed, which someone illegally planted.  It became a shrub and a few birds rested in the modest shade of its branches.  That’s all.  Jesus’ parable subverts all the grandiose ideas concerning what the reign of God is going to be like when it finally arrives. 

So how then are we to understand this deliberate use of an unclean and insignificant image for God’s reign — God’s Dream?  In these parables Jesus’ portrayal of the reign of God suggests that God’s greatest works are not done on a grandiose level.  The reality of the reign of God is not found in cathedrals, imposing complexes, or large institutions.  The reign of God is realized in everyday life with all its ups and downs.  And above all, in its insignificance — the exact place where people actually live their lives.  In other words, the reign of God, the dream of God, is readily accessible to anybody and everybody.  Jesus’ parable affirms that grace is like a mustard seed, the smallest of seeds, sown in us.  It is growing — mysteriously in each of us.  But it is not going to turn us into a Cedar of Lebanon — a super saint.  We, quite frankly, will be doing well if we become a modest shrub. 

So, what is the Dream of God?

If we are expecting the expansion of our particular ideology (be it religious, nationalistic, or whatever) into some great visible organization that fills and dominates the earth, we have missed the point completely.  This is not God’s idea of success.  Where are the mightiest works of reign of God accomplished?  According to Jesus, inside us — in our hearts and in our attitudes.  Hence in secret.  Wherever there is love and compassion, there God is present.  The reign or dream of God manifests itself in the modest changes in our attitudes and in the subtle improvements in our behavior that no one may readily notice — including ourselves.  These are the mighty works of God, not great external achievements. 

“To what shall I liken the reign of God?”  Jesus asked.  The reign of God, the dream of God, is manifested in ordinary daily life —in our relationships and interactions with one another.  The question for us is, “Are we willing to accept the God of everyday life?”  If we do, then we will enjoy the dream of God here and now, without having to wait for an apocalypse, heaven, or for someone to deliver us from our difficulties.  The Good News is that the reign of God has come near — it is in our hearts and waiting for us to embody it, to live it.  It is our responsibility to manifest this reality in the midst of our daily lives.

It is interesting that most people — both religious and secular — are people of good will who truly want to make a positive contribution to our world.  Unfortunately, we are all too often trapped by our collective myths that insist that contributions only count when done on a grand scale and are acclaimed by others.  The reality is that the dream of God becomes a reality every time we are kind, every time we choose to live compassionately.  As a Buddhist teacher noted: Everyone wants to work for world peace, but no one wants to help Mom with the dishes.  The dream of God is manifest in our daily lives — in every interaction, regardless of how small or modest.  It is through our attitudes and relationships that the dream of God is consummated in our world.

The Dream of God, like mustard, is all-pervading — provided we are willing let go of the myths that define our lives and embrace God’s presence in our midst.  This is the truth to which Gandhi was speaking when he observed that we must be the change we wish to see in the world.  Or, to express it much more simply, it is the reality we enact every time we are willing to help Mom with the dishes.