[Jesus] put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; 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.”
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
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.”
“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.
“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
“Have you understood all this?” They answered, “Yes.” 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.”
My sermon from the 9th Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (July 26 2026) on Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52.
So even though I know how to follow a recipe, I don’t really know what a “measure of flour” actually means. I’m familiar with cups, tablespoons, pints, quarts, and weighing ingredients on a scale. But measuring a measure is a metaphor that is slightly over my head. I’m sure most of us know what it’s like when a metaphor doesn’t connect in the way it should. We’re left feeling a bit dumb we don’t get it or confused why others don’t see things the way we do. One metaphor isn’t always enough to break through which is why, I think, Jesus used a lot of different kinds of metaphors to describe the kingdom of God. Today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew gives us a taste of what it must have been like listening to Jesus speak. The crowds around him were often very diverse – full of merchants, fishermen, farmers, shepherds, slaves, servants, the sick, the healthy, the faithful, the doubters, men, women, old, young, those who worked in their home, and those without one. Not everyone was excited to see Jesus speak and most didn’t become his disciples immediately he preached and shared. Jesus, though, wanted everyone to experience what it means when God’s kingdom comes near and so he used many different metaphors as a way to let his stories linger in their minds and souls. As we listened to these words, the mustard seed or pearl or the net might have been the image that spoke to you. But for me, it was the dough that made me pause and wonder.
Now most of Jesus’ stories contain a setting, a plot, a cast of characters, and a few verbs. And while those details are easier to see in the longer stories Jesus told, this one sentence about a woman baking bread can still be enough. For thousands of years, people have noticed something happens when a little piece of old dough is left on the kitchen counter. When given enough time and a little moisture, the old dough expands and changes while its carbohydrates are converted into gassy bubbles. This fermented dough can then be used to transform freshly made dough into bread that is bigger, flufflier, and delicious. This process is how dough is leavened and, when used as a metaphor in our Bible, is typically seen as a bad thing. Yet in Jesus’ story, this process is a good thing because it describes what the kingdom of God looks like. It wasn’t until the 1800s that we finally identified the microscopic fungus, aka yeast, that makes this fermentation happen. But folks in Jesus’ day knew that the sticky, wet, and smelly batch left to fend for itself in our kitchens could create a lighter bread that was fun to eat. We have our own starter dough at home or maybe we’ve made it during those moments when bread making becomes a very trendy thing to do. But based on the number of bread machines that are donated to our Trash and Treasure rummage sale every year, we prefer to focus on the crusty bread rather than the process itself. But, for Jesus, it isn’t the end that defines what God’s kingdom is. Rather, God’s kingdom is the source and start of everything that comes next.
And what comes next is always meant to be a lot. I learned while preparing for today’s sermon that in our current context, a measure of flour is 1 cup. Yet in the ancient world, a measure of flour was a whole lot more. According to scholars, that measure would have weighed between 20 and 60 lbs. The amount of dough in Jesus’ story was incredible and it would have been handled by a person who didn’t have a commercial motorized mixer. She would have done everything by hand and it began by taking a tiny bit of yeast and hiding it within a mountain of flour bigger than her. Jesus doesn’t tell us why she’s making this huge pile of dough but we know it must have been for something that was immediately about to happen since she wouldn’t be able to set any of it aside. It sounds as if she is making bread for a kind of gathering her entire village could go to. And what that gathering might be is something we get to decide for ourselves. Maybe she was getting ready for a wedding, celebrating a joyous event where her child was invited to make a household all their own. Or maybe grief was stirring in everyone’s heart while they prepared to host a feast in memory of someone who had made an incredible difference in their lives. As she worked the dough by hand, we can imagine her kitchen was full of words while people shared stories, laughed, cried, and talked about what was about to come. When the dough was finally mixed, it would need time to rest and so the rest of her life would go on as she took care of her family, friends, and everything else the world brought her way. But once the dough was fully leavened, the baking could begin. And once the loaves were crispy and fresh, a feast would be shared with all.
We often imagine, I think, that every word, verse, and story in our Bible should be able to answer whatever questions we have. Yet I wonder if Jesus’ parables are sometimes less about answering a question and more about showing who our God chooses to be. We want the so-called kingdoms that make up our lives – such as our families, our homes, our neighborhoods, and every community we’re a part of to appear strong and good. They should be full of joy and working towards an outcome that matches what we think it means to be successful and true. Only the messy bits of life that lead to something positive should ever be on display. When folks view our life from afar, they should be envious of how good our life appears. It’s a way of life that focuses on the end results others see. And the stuff that makes us vulnerable, fragile, imperfect, and truly human are the things we’re supposed to hide. Yet it’s in those hidden bits of life where, according to Jesus, God’s kingdom is found. God’s kingdom will always be messy since it’s in that mess where love, care, mercy, and compassion are shared. It’s through our tears and laughter, our confidence and confusion, our fears and joys, where God’s presence, power, and persistence breaks through those kingdoms we try to build on our own. And while we often want our life to be less smelly, and way less funky that it is, it’s through the mess where we discover how beloved we already are. It isn’t the feast at the end that defines what being with our God is all about. Rather, it’s in the everyday things that feel hidden – such as grace and hope – where our eternal life is found. There is no one single metaphor that can fully measure or express God’s vision for our lives and our world. Yet, in baptism and through faith, the yeast of God’s kingdom is already in you. And it’s bubbling out in the welcome, the mercy, and the love we share.
Amen.