The Parable of the Mustard Seed

Reflections on Mk 4:26-34

Scripture excerpt (RSV-CE)

And [Jesus] said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed upon the ground, and should sleep and rise night and day, and the seed should sprout and grow, he knows not how. The earth produces of itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”
And he said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything.

“The kingdom of God” in Greek is ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ, which is more accurately translated as “the ruling of God”, emphasizing the dynamic aspect: not a static kingdom, but rather the process of God’s ongoing reign.

Our Lord Jesus Christ deliberately crafted this concept to carry many meanings, and employed it variously in his teaching. By it he meant the Paradise to come, where God reigns, but also the effect of grace upon man, and even Himself.

This is no accident: the three meanings are intertwined. To enter the garden of Paradise, we must cultivate the garden of grace in our soul. For this garden to flourish, it needs a Gardener who will sow and nurture the saplings of grace.

Those who have tried gardening know it is a slow occupation. Years pass between the moment you plant a seed and the time when you can enjoy a fruit-bearing tree. There is something mysterious in how a tree grows. You can prune it, provide nutrients, but you have no power over the growth itself – the hidden vital force that “through the green fuse drives the flower”. You can only assist it.

In nature, the seed of a black mustard (Brassica nigra) is indeed very small, 1-2 millimeters, but from it emerges a spreading bush up to two meters tall. Similarly, the act of God may appear as small as a dot, but it holds immense potential.

It may be that, in the same fashion, a single cell in a primordial soup already contained the vast diversity of all forms of life. Or that an infinitely small and dense singularity encompassed the entire material universe. Or that the Church of Christ, which has spanned millennia and billions of people, began with only a dozen Apostles.

It seems that our Lord delights in producing the great from the small.

The seed of grace is also tiny. When God sows it in the soul, it does not sprout instantly. Sometimes, after converting to Christianity, people do not become better and kinder on the spot – some even seem to grow more difficult.

This happens to saints as well. St. Augustine, when he de facto converted and accepted the truth of Christ, still for a time resisted the grace fiercely, clinging to old ways – as his prayer vividly tells of that period in his life, “Lord, make me chaste, but not yet”. It is very relatable.

However, grace works patiently. It must settle, take root in the soil of the soul. It takes time for its sprout to break the surface. And only after it had been watered and cared for, does it become a tall plant that can bear fruits and provide shadow.

St. Thomas Aquinas teaches that grace is habitus animae, “a habit, or a permanent disposition of the soul”, which forms gradually and then gradually shapes us. The Catechism says that grace is a gift that “perfects the soul to enable it to live with God”. So, the key to the concept is, again, continuity. The kingdom of God is God’s unceasing guidance.

Unless we hinder it, we have almost no control over which paths grace will carve in our soul: “the seed should sprout and grow, he knows not how”. In a way, it acts alongside – but not against – our will. We might compare it to a “sacred symbiont” that dwells in us, which does not destroy, but cleanses and heals instead.

Yet this analogy falters, as it seems to set grace and soul in some sort of opposition. In truth, grace conforms to the soul as water to a vessel. We would not call tea or coffee alien to a cup! Yes, they are distinct, but are meant for each other: just as the purpose of a cup is to contain liquid, the purpose of the soul is to contain grace.

A vessel without liquid is empty, no matter how beautiful or well-made it is.

The best symbol for grace is indeed water: transparent, humble, as though invisible, yet ever-present and absolutely essential for life.

Falling from God like rain, it washes the dry rocks of the soul, from its heights to its depths, finding, filling, and mending every crack. It is also like the mustard tree of the parable, springing up from once-arid, now-revived soil. After all, trees also consist mostly of water and serve as living vessels for it.

However, the Lord compares the kingdom of God not only to the grain, but also to the ear of wheat. Here again we encounter the multivalence of his metaphors. Nourished by water and rising to the sky, the seed becomes an ear, and the ear must one day be cut down.

No matter how good or pure our soul may become in this life, whatever good fruits she bears, her purpose is transfiguration. As the grain must die to become the ear, and the ear must die to become flour, so too we must go down into the earth in order to sprout again – that is, to be resurrected – in a renewed, better form.

We will lose nothing that makes us ourselves, but will be freed from evil – from our flaws, imperfections, wounds. At the same time, we will become far greater than we are today, capaces aeternitatis – able to receive eternity and live in it joyfully forever.

May God help us to tend and weed the garden of grace within, so that this small seed of the age to come eventually opens for us the gates to the boundless Heaven, the true and everlasting kingdom of God. Amen.

Reflections on Scripture, with emphasis on thoughts and symbols rather than one central idea.

940 words – this article is brief. About 3 minutes to read for an average reading speed.

Complexity: average. It is rather saturated theologically. Requires basic knowledge of Christian paradigm.