31 He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; 32 it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”
33 He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”
44 “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and reburied; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
45 “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; 46 on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
47 “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; 48 when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. 49 So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous 50 and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
51 “Have you understood all this?” They answered, “Yes.” 52 And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has become a disciple in the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”
– Matthew 13:31–33, 44–52 (NRSVUE)
Sometimes the imperial powers of the world simply seem to be too much—they are too big, too powerful, and too mighty to be overcome. For those who lament the state of the world and its current powerbrokers, we may feel as though our numbers are too small, our voices too faint, and our impact far too little.
It’s not hard to imagine that Jesus’s earliest followers might have felt similarly. In the context of the first century Roman Empire, they represented a small and at-risk minority sect within Judaism. Roman propaganda, on the other hand, claimed “an empire without end” (Latin: imperium sine fine; Virgil, Aeneid, 1.279) and an “eternal city” (Latin: aeternae urbis; Tibullus, 2.5.23), which reinforced the inevitability and immutability of their rule. What difference could followers of Jesus make? Where was the real-world impact of the movement of the Kingdom of Heaven/God on earth?
This collection of parables offers a word of hope, encouragement, and persistence for those feeling discouraged both then and now. In spite of their brevity, these five parables offer plenty of imaginative and creative interpretive space. There are some common threads to consider, however, especially with the theme of “hiddenness.” Time and time again, Jesus compares God’s reign to something hidden beneath the surface, either growing quietly or waiting to be discovered. While Rome’s presence is obvious and ubiquitous, the hidden work of God’s reign is nevertheless politically consequential.
In the first parable, Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to a mustard seed which someone sows in a field (13:31–32). The seed grows underground, hidden from view, while observers cannot see any change. This “smallest of all the seeds” will grow into “the greatest of shrubs” and even a tree. While the mustard plant is not actually a tree, the comparison evokes biblical imagery of empires: Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon, for example, are each depicted by prophets as towering trees that are cut down by God (Ezek 31:1–18; Dan 4:10–26). Jesus’s description of the mustard “tree” as a home for “the birds of the air” also evokes Ezek 17:23–24, in which Israel is imagined as reigning over the other kingdoms of the earth:
23 On the mountain height of Israel
I will transplant it,
and it will produce boughs and bear fruit
and become a noble cedar.
Under it every kind of bird will live;
in the shade of its branches will nest
winged creatures of every kind.
24 All the trees of the field shall know
that I am the Lord.
I bring low the high tree;
I make high the low tree;
I dry up the green tree
and make the dry tree flourish.
I the Lord have spoken;
I will accomplish it.
Ezekiel was writing in Babylon, an oppressive imperial context where the future was far from certain. Yet these words offer hope of restoration and the promise of an end to oppression and political domination.
For Jesus’s own first-century hearers, invoking God’s kingdom/reign (Greek: basileia) creates a political framework for these short stories. It sets God’s reign in tension with Rome’s own basileia, and invites listeners to wonder: What does God’s reign look like in the world, especially when Rome appears firmly in control? The Parable of the Mustard Seed speaks a word of encouragement to those suffering under imperial oppression. It reminds listeners that God’s reign may not always be visible or obvious. It may even appear small and unimportant. Nevertheless, it is growing purposefully, and will one day fully supplant the empires of this world. At the same time, it promises protection, abundance, and a home in its branches.
In the parable that follows, Jesus compares the basileia of heaven to yeast which a woman mixes into bread dough (13:31). In spite of its remarkable brevity, the theme of hiddenness once again emerges. For yeast, first-century listeners would likely have imagined something akin to sourdough starter. The NRSVue translation obscures the Greek, which says she “hides” or “conceals” (enekrupsen, from the verbal root kruptō) the yeast in the flour. The word choice summons to mind a baker who kneads yeast into the dough, and when done can no longer see the leavening agent itself. Yet even though it is unseen, it continues its important work, transforming the dough into food that will be nutritious and life-sustaining once baked.
The quantity of flour is surprising: three measures may be as much as 60 pounds of flour, enough to feed more than a hundred people! It is a feast. The quantity echoes Genesis 18, where Sarah bakes cakes from three measures of flour (Gen 18:6) to offer extravagant hospitality to three angelic visitors. The parable is an image that speaks to the abundance and life-giving nature of God’s basileia. Whereas the vast majority of the non-elite inhabitants of the Roman empire knew chronic scarcity of food and resources, the fortunate and elite few enjoyed a surplus of wealth. God’s reign, in contrast to Rome’s, promises “daily bread” and even abundance to all. Yet once again, the image of this parable suggests that this is something that takes time to develop and come fully to fruition.
The third parable in this lectionary reading again depicts something hidden (Greek: kekkrummenō, from the root kruptō): this time a treasure in a field. The sparse details again open many possibilities in its interpretive space. For example, is this a day laborer who is working in someone else’s field? What type of treasure is this? We have no idea, except that it is valuable to the finder. More importantly, however, this person shows patience and restraint in re-hiding the treasure, and then goes to sell everything to take ownership of the field.
This strange parable asks hearers to consider what of value might be hiding beneath the surface, and what they would be willing to give up to acquire it. There is a hint of shrewdness or even calculated deception—the worker doesn’t reveal what’s hidden in the field when buying it (perhaps breaking Roman law in the process). There may even be a bit of irony or schadenfraude at the expense of the presumably wealthy landowner who gives up this farm. At the same time, the buyer takes a tremendous risk, giving up everything to acquire this treasure. The result is joy, which in the Gospel of Matthew evokes worship of God and delight in God’s presence (e.g. 2:10). The reign of God may be hidden, but it invites participants to risk much—even everything, to know the joy and treasure inherent in this alternative way of life in the world.
The fourth parable in this collection has similarities to the third. The theme of hiddenness is muted, but discovery is still present. A merchant is actively seeking costly pearls, finds one “of great value,” and then goes and sells everything he has to purchase it (13:45–46). This action is shocking. He gives up everything for this pearl—what does he have left to live on? The parable hints that God’s basileia demands a radical reorientation of one’s life and priorities. The shock of the parable conveys how confusing and even disorienting it may feel to attempt to live into the values and ideals of the basileia of God in the midst of Rome’s empire.
Finally, the Matthean Jesus concludes this teaching with a parable about a fishing net. God’s reign is compared to a net cast into the sea, which catches fish of every kind. Once the net is full, fishermen haul it ashore and patiently sort the good fish from the bad (anticipating the Son of Man’s eschatological sorting of sheep and goats in Matt 25:31–46). While the theme of “hiddenness” is not overt in this parable, the fishermen do cast the net indiscriminately into the water below in order to catch what is hidden from view. They are uncertain about what they have caught until they are able to drag the net ashore and do their sorting. In a similar way, those who participate in God’s basileia inevitably live with uncertainty about what their work will accomplish. Seeds are planted. Dough is leavened. And nets are cast. Yet then one must wait and trust that God is at work.
Five brief parables. This lectionary reading offers a plurality of options for preaching, teaching, or reflection. Again, there is wisdom in being selective. Yet the theme of “hiddenness” offers much for consideration, especially for people of faith in today’s world.
Plenty of people are overwhelmed and increasingly discouraged by the current political environment in the United States. Hope feels hard to come by when each day seems to bring more bad news. Those who experience discrimination, hostility, and oppressive legislation (especially people of color, LGBTQ+ persons, and women) are fearful of violence and even their lives. Churches and people of faith who are engaged in important work for advocacy and justice in their community may not yet see the fruits of their labors.
Rome’s power and control in the first century were obvious, visible, and overwhelming. God’s reign, in contrast, was quiet, subtle, and hidden. Progress toward the fullness of God’s reign surely felt—and still feels—slow and incremental. Nevertheless, Jesus’s parables offer encouragement to people working to build a world that better reflects God’s heart. Do the work, but be patient. Take risks when appropriate, and give fully and wholeheartedly to this vision. Trust that something is happening, something purposeful and live-giving. And that just beneath the surface lies treasure waiting to be discovered. Ultimately, trust that Jesus’s parables anticipate the end of imperial oppression and domination. Neither Rome nor the power brokers of today will have the final word.
