The Parable of the Elephants

A sermon preached with the people of Christ Episcopal Church in Warren, Ohio on July 30, 2023.

In 2019, I had the enormous privilege of traveling with Episcopal Relief & Development to Zambia in southern Africa to see the incredible work they support in that country. At the end of that visit, our group got to take a quick side-trip to Chobe National Park in Botswana.

We started out in open-air jeeps that made me feel a bit like I was on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. And then, we slowed down, as narrow trail gave way to vast expanse, and a tableau opened up before us; one that could never be duplicated by Disney Imagineers, computer-generated effects, or virtual reality.

Giants stood before us. Elephants – of all ages and sizes, silently and gracefully moving through space; space that belonged to them. They seemed to exist on a different plane. While they were free, in their natural habitat, it felt as though if I extended my arm my fingers would hit invisible glass – or maybe some kind of force field. Because it felt like a whole world – a perfect and strange world – that existed somehow alongside our world, but not quite in our world. This strange world had been there all along, but I could not have imagined it. Not really. In this moment the way time and space worked felt different.  

And then I heard myself say, out loud, to no one in particular: The Kingdom of Heaven is like …”

Now, maybe some of you have seen elephants in the wild and not had a decidedly weird spiritual awakening experience. I really wasn’t sure at the time why that was the effect it had on me.

 In the days leading up to the visit to the park, I had seen marvelous things: beautiful classrooms with little ones learning, programs about preparing healthy meals, general health and wellness, domestic violence prevention, and financial management for women. I had seen provision of medical care and vaccine distributed to families that do not have easy access to these things. I had seen Christ’s hands at work. And then: elephants?

I have come to understand that moment with those creatures moving as though they walked through water as a parable; a parable to help me interpret what I had seen but not “perceived” in those days before: a glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven.

When the disciples asked Jesus why he spoke in parables, he answered:“The reason I speak to them in parables is that ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.’

Jesus begins his ministry in Matthew’s Gospel just nine chapters earlier preaching the same one-sentence sermon John the Baptist did: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

The Kingdom of Heaven is so close, Jesus tells us. This Kingdom that belongs to the poor in heart, the mourners, the meek, the hungry, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers and the persecuted. Not to the rich, the mighty and powerful.  It’s so close we can catch glimpses of it. But they are hard to perceive.

We are offered glimpses of the Kingdom when debt is forgiven. When housing is provided. When people are fed. When captives go free. When medical care is accessed. When difference is celebrated. When wealth is shared. When bodies are respected. When people on the blessed side of the beatitudes win out. 

But so often, when we see these things, our responses go something like: “why should their debts be forgiven when mine weren’t?” or “their own country should take care of them.” Or, “those people made choices that led to their circumstance, while I made responsible choices – let them live with the consequences.” Or simply: “I don’t get it.”

And so Jesus, the great teacher and the wise pastor meets us where we are. He speaks in parables. And he does so inclusively, offering illustrations that might appeal to different people with different experiences, interests and genders, allowing all of us to enter into these stories.[i]

This morning we hear a parable that goes like this: the Kingdom of Heaven is like a seed. A tiny seed that you might never imagine would grow into an enormous tree. But it does. And that tree is maybe more of a weed – a nuisance. You might never imagine that nuisance ends up offering safety and shelter for other creatures. But it does. This thing that started so tiny, and becomes a bit of a nuisance. Is important. Is nourishing. “Can you imagine that, Jesus asks us? Okay, that is what it’s like.

And then, our real-world “perceiving” might begin. Those big, obvious things we value? Wealth, status, beauty norms, fame? Maybe those aren’t it. Maybe look for the smaller stuff. The stuff that goes unnoticed and the stuff that is seen as a nuisance. The small seeds. The poor, the weak, the captive. Help, love, true safety. Maybe that’s it.

I think that day in that open-air Jeep I heard a parable, and it went something like this:

“The Kingdom of Heaven is like a woman who comes upon giants roaming in a field. She is filled with both great joy and deep ache at the sight of a new and complete social system she felt sure existed, but had never really seen; a social system under constant threat by her own kind.”

Each of Jesus’ parables can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. We may draw different meanings from them as we age – as we hear new messages as our lives take different shapes. This is Jesus, showing up again and again, meeting us where we are.

And the Holy Spirit may even send us new parables. New, weird stories that help us interpret hard truths – and help us perceive and respond to the glimpses of the Kingdom of Heaven we have been offered.

Have you ever been sent a new parable? I’d love to hear about it. Meet me in coffee hour.

It’s really pretty comforting to know that God knows this about us: that “seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.” That God knows our limitations. And still loves us. And believes we can get there anyway.

The kingdom of heaven is like …

1 Wilda C. Gafney, “A Lectionary for the Whole Church, Year A,” p 216