Are We There Yet? – Homily for the 11th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

First I want to wish a happy Father’s Day
to all of my fellow fathers and grandfathers,
those here present, and those who can’t be with us today.
I wish you a blessed and peaceful weekend.

With summer here,
I imagine many of you are preparing
for one of fatherhood’s greatest responsibilities,
the family vacation.

One of my favorite fatherly duties is driving the family down the road
to some exciting and new vacation spot.
Whether it’s a quick trip to Seattle to see the Mariners play,
or a leisurely trek over the mountains to Yellowstone Park,
or a long expedition down Highway 101 to Disneyland,
I love the feeling of being behind the wheel,
with my family safely buckled in around me,
and all of us just traveling together down the road.
I just love that,
especially when we’re out in the middle of Montana,
or Central Washington, or California,
and Brenda and the kids are fast asleep
and I’m the only one awake,
driving them down a long stretch of highway.
I love it when we’re all together inside the car or minivan,
and I’m making sure they’re all safe and sound,
that we’re on the right road,
that everything’s ok.
I feel like I’m really doing my job as dad,
protecting them and taking care of them.
When everyone’s sleeping in the car,
it’s as if they’re saying,
“Dad, we trust you, we can relax,
you’ve got it under control.”

I’ve never really talked about this to other dads,
but I bet I’m not the only one who feels that way.

It’s old-fashioned, I know,
and I’m sure there are plenty of moms out there
who have had the same experience,
and Brenda is perfectly capable of driving our family down the road.
But I’ve always appreciated being the one in our family
who drives the car on long vacations.
For those brief moments,
I get to take care of the entire family,
carrying everyone safe and sound
inside the safety of the car.

You know, it’s probably the closest a father ever gets
to the feeling of carrying his children inside of him,
the way their mother did before they were born.

I bring this up today,
not only because it’s Father’s Day Weekend,
but also because in today’s scripture readings,
God tells us that he’s driving us down the road of life
and we can relax in the knowledge that he’s got it under control,
that he’s going to get us safely to our destination.

Scripture doesn’t use the image of a family vacation,
but the message is still the same.

The prophet Ezekiel is speaking to the exiles in Babylon.
It’s about 600 years before the time of Jesus,
and the chosen people have been uprooted from the promised land.
They’re living in captivity far from their homes,
living under a false king,
longing to return to Jerusalem.

Through the prophet Ezekiel,
God tells his people, his family,
that he will take care of them,
that he will grow a majestic cedar out of a tiny, tender shoot
that will provide shade and protection,
not only for Israel
but for anyone who comes to dwell there.
And not only in this life,
but forever.

600 years later,
Jesus speaks the same message to his disciples.
But by this time, the Jews are living under the authority
not of the Babylonians,
but of the Romans.
And they’re impatient.
They’re tired of always being in captivity, of never being in control.
And there’s a group of zealots
who want to violently overthrow the Romans.

Scripture scholars suggest that some of these zealots
left the group and became disciples of Jesus,
but after waiting impatiently for action,
they demanded to know when he would lead the uprising.

In other words, they were saying those dreaded words
that all parents hear on long vacation trips:
“Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”
“When is the kingdom of God coming?”
“When will we be free?”

To answer that question,
Jesus tells the first parable we hear in today’s gospel.

If you look up this parable in a bible you’ll see that it’s called
the Parable of the Seed that Grows of Itself,
or the Parable of the Seed Growing Secretly.
But scripture scholar Jeremiah Jeremias suggests
that it might be more accurately called
the Parable of the Patient Farmer:

The farmer sows the seed and then rests;
his life follows its ordered round of sleeping and waking,
night and day:
without his taking anxious thought or any active steps,
the seed grows from stalk to ear, and from ear to ripened corn.
The naming of each stage of the process
describes the unceasing process of growth.
Then, suddenly, the moment arrives which rewards the patient waiting.
The corn is ripe, the harvest has come.

That’s how it is with the kingdom of God;
with the same certainty as the harvest comes for the farmer
after his long waiting,
so does God when his hour has come.
We can only wait with the patience of the farmer.

And just as Jesus tells this story to the impatient zealots,
so Mark chooses to include this parable in his gospel.
This parable is only found in Mark’s gospel,
probably because by the time Mark writes his gospel,
Christians were asking a similar question.
When will Jesus return?
When is the kingdom of God coming?
In other words, Are we there yet?
So to answer those questions,
Mark includes this parable of the patient farmer.

And here we are, two thousand years later,
and still on the road to the Promised Land,
still traveling, still asking the question,
Are we there yet?

As we read the headlines
and live through our daily struggles,
we recognize that no, clearly we are not there yet.
We still await the kingdom of God.

But on the other hand,
the kingdom of God is more present now than it has ever been.

The farmer has planted the seeds,
the growth has begun,
and it will in God’s good time, become ready for harvest.
The kingdom of God grows slowly
but is moving toward its majestic completion.

The kingdom is growing,
though the seed and the growth may be hardly visible.

Both parables in the gospel and today’s first reading remind us
that out of the most insignificant beginnings,
invisible to human eye,
God creates his mighty kingdom,
which embraces all the peoples of the world.

God says to us today,
“I’ve got this, don’t worry,
the Kingdom is coming, the Kingdom is here.
I can take something as tiny as a mustard seed
and grow it into a huge tree that welcomes and shelters everyone,
giving them a shady place to rest.”

That doesn’t mean we throw up our hands,
give up our efforts to help bring about the kingdom,
and turn everything over to God.
We are still called by our baptism to share the Good News,
to be salt for the earth and light for the world.
God still asks us to cooperate with him in bringing about the Kingdom.

But today we remember that our loving Father is driving the minivan.
Today we remember that God will see us through all storms,
that the seeds he planted are growing each and every day,
and we can be sure the harvest will come.

There’s a story about Pope John XXIII, now St. John XXIII,
the pope who convened the Second Vatican Council.
Shortly after he was elected pope he was having a hard time sleeping
because of the weight of all the concerns of the church,
and all the decisions he had to make.
Finally in prayer he said,
“Listen, Lord, this church is yours, not mine. I’m going to sleep.”
And he fell quickly asleep.

On this Father’s Day, our loving Father says to us:
“Sleep well, my children.
I am at the wheel and everything is under control.”