 In the second follow-up parable (Mark 4:30–32), the Parable of the Mustard Bush, the imagery is consistent with Mark’s programmatic themes and reinforces a public dimension to evangelism: And He said, “How shall we picture the kingdom of God, or by what parable shall we present it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the soil, though it is smaller than all the seeds that are upon the soil, yet when it is sown, it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and forms large branches; so that the birds of the air can nest under its shade” (4:30–32). The picture of the proverbial small mustard seed producing a comparably large bush for the size of the seed is suggestive of small beginnings vs. large results. However, this, too, can obscure the subversive nature of this kingdom-parable. First, the mustard plant is not a tree; it is a large bush.[1] Second, this bush is an uncontrollable plant that tends to take over the garden. Finally, what farmer in his right mind wants birds[2] in his garden? Like Mark’s opening verses, the parable of the mustard bush “mingles”[3] three OT texts: Ezekiel 17:23, Ezekiel 31:6, Daniel 4:12: On the high mountain of Israel I will plant it, that it may bring forth boughs and bear fruit and become a stately cedar. And birds of every kind will nest under it; they will nest in the shade of its branches (Ezek 17:23). What is of interest is the contrast between the trees in the OT referents and the bush[4] in the Markan parable, and, as well an overlooked reference to the poor in the Daniel 4 context. The two Ezekiel referents are judgment-parables, while in Daniel the context is a parabolic vision of judgment on the king of Babylon. All three references utilize the tree motif,[5] which is OT imagery for kings and their kingdoms, and the branch imagery represents how a kingdom offers protection and sustenance to its subjects.[6] Jesus, on the other hand, alters the OT imagery, ever so slightly, replacing the noble Cedars of Lebanon and the large and strong tree of Babylon with a domesticated mustard bush. “It is hard to escape the conclusion that Jesus deliberately links the rule of God to a weed.”[7] Daniel’s interpretation (4:19–26) indicates that Nebuchadnezzar’s dominion would be taken away until he recognizes that the Most High is sovereign over all kingdoms on earth (i.e., the true sovereign ruler of all the trees, v. 25 NIV). Then, in light of the branch imagery, there is an interesting juxtaposition between the pending judgment and Daniel’s advice to the king of Babylon: Therefore, O king, may my advice be pleasing to you: break away now from your sins by doing righteousness and from your iniquities by showing mercy to the poor[underline by showing mercy to the poor], in case there may be a prolonging of your prosperity (Dan 4:27). This advice reflects the Exodus land stipulations concerning righteousness and the poor. Ironically, the warning is to a non-Israelite, anti-Yahweh king, ruling a Gentile empire. The OT trees vs. the Markan mustard bush, along with Daniel’s reference to showing mercy to the poor (4:27), infuse the concept of the “in-breaking of the kingdom” with a broader sense than simply individual conversion. The kingdom of God, having taken root and growing mysteriously, subverts “existing kingdom visions and power structures.”[8] The Parable of the Mustard Bush expands our understanding of evangelism to include issues regarding the dominions of mankind (i.e., socio-economic and power structures) and the poor.* Further notes on what the Mark 4 Parable of the Sower who sows teaches us: It is most certainly strange to depict the kingdom of God as a small seed that produces a wild mustard bush. Pliny the Elder wrote that such a bush was unwanted in a garden where it “grows entirely wild . . . once been sown it is scarcely possible to get the place free of it, as the seed when it falls germinates at once” (Nat. 19.170–71). I agree with commentators that see this parable describing the incredible growth of the kingdom of God as a threat to other existing kingdoms. The shrub/bush imagery should that the kingdom would be a danger to other kingdom visions and power structures Notes: [1] In the Matthew and Luke versions the bush is portrayed as a tree, which does describe what the mustard plant becomes—large and spread out. [2] Birds are equated with the nations, i.e., Gentiles in the OT imagery, and probably carry similar imagery here; thus, the term adds to the continued, increasing harvest of the gospel of the word imagery. [3] Marcus, Mystery of the Kingdom, 203. [4] Here in Mark “the seed grows into the greatest of all shrubs, but in Matthew (13:32) and Luke (13:19) it becomes a tree” (Funk, “Looking Glass,” 3–9). To someone knowledgeable of the OT, where great trees symbolize great kings and empires, Mark’s reference to God’s dominion as a large bush “comes as a jolt, even a joke. The birds of heaven are taking shelter here under a tree of about eight feet. The great tree of God’s kingdom has gone domestic” (Funk quoting M. Sabin). [5] Along with the political connotations, the tree motif also carries a cultic and/or idolatrous connection as well. [6] Ezekiel’s cedar-trees, as well as Nebuchadnezzar’s vision, represent the power and growth of two non-Israelite empires, and the birds that find rest/nesting in them are the nations (see Ezek 31:6). [7] Witherington (Gospel of Mark, 172) quoting Oakman (Jesus and the Economic Questions, 127). [8] Witherington indicates the existing structures in Israel are in Jesus’ mind; however, the parable and the rest of the Gospel seem to point toward the dominion of God reaching well beyond the borders of Israel. And, as the “pigs” story is about to suggest, certainly the existing structure in place is there by the power of Rome itself (Gospel of Mark, 172).
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 An etymologically based proclamation-centered evangelism is insufficient to reflect the reality of the presence of the kingdom of God, and, as well, disconnects evangelism, not only from the full life of the church, but also from the public and social implications of the kingdom. True, it might be anachronistically incorrect to jump completely from Jesus’ deeds straight to social action, but it is equally wrong to turn Jesus’ parables into mythic stories that affirm “traditional” American values, limited government, and a political and legal agenda that seeks to promote “our way of life” [note A]. Although leaping from the text to “Christian humanitarianism” is an over-simplification, we cannot ignore that Jesus engaged social institutions, nor overlook that Jesus had immense theological conflicts with temple leadership that reached back to Exodus stipulations and their social implications regarding the vulnerable. The kingdom context places evangelism directly in the midst of the public realm where the Christian community is obligated to deal with structural sin and be an advocate for the vulnerable and the poor. Also, to not include social action outcomes in evangelistic activities, limits the possible outcomes where God’s rule and reign can be expressed, realized, and experienced. Such limiting is the result of a privatized and dualistic understanding of the gospel. Rather, a kingdom-centered evangelism allows for the fullness of the gospel to be realized in individuals, groups, structures, systems, and even culture. Evangelistic strategies and actions ought to enact, demonstrate, fulfill, and advocate for outcomes consistent with God’s reign over all the realms of humanity. Evangelistic outcomes ought to include both personal decisions for Christ and actions that promote God’s righteousness and, in particular, social action that engages the needs and welfare of the vulnerable and the poor. Almost four decades ago, David Moberg, in his The Great Reversal: Evangelism and Social Concern, asked how Christians were to deal with the issues of poverty. This continues to be a pertinent question for the Christian community today—let the debate be lively! However, the topic should not be shrunk to public vs. private, government vs. church, or red vs. blue politics. The gospel of the kingdom is “multidimensional and all-encompassing” and is concerned with both the individual and society. Of course, the gospel calls individuals to a right relationship with God, but it goes beyond private piety, calling Christians, especially Christian leadership, to engage, not only with direct action (i.e., social action) on behalf of the economically vulnerable, but also social and institutional structures that work against fulfilling the church’s obligations toward the poor. The Exodus land-laws, operating behind Mark’s programmatic theme, were given to ensure that the vulnerable (i.e., the land-less) were full participants in the benefits of living in the land [Note B]. Social Action is a means to ensure that the blessings and benefits of living in society reach to the poor. The parable of the Sower who sows encourages the Christian community to waste its seed, sowing it into every realm and every corner of society “in hopes that good soil might somewhere be found,” because it is “our area.” Note A: Actually, it is not altogether inappropriate to make a logical leap from Jesus’ deeds—miracles, exorcisms, healing, over-turning temple-trading tables, cursing a fig-tree, and the ultimate temple-destruction announcement—for it has been noted that some of the miracle stories contain references to actual political referents, and the miracles themselves carry a contrast to a social-political dynamic of crowd control. Note B: For insight on “the land” and the land-less poor, see Walter Brueggemann, Land: Place as Gift, Promise, and Challenge in Biblical Faith (Fortress). *Excerpt from the 2nd chapter of Wasted Evangelism: Social Action and the Church's Task of Evangelism (Resource Publications, an imprint of Wipf & Stock).
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AuthorChip M. Anderson, advocate for biblical social action; pastor of an urban church plant in the Hill neighborhood of New Haven, CT; husband, father, author, former Greek & NT professor; and, 19 years involved with social action. Archives
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