Written on July 17, 2008

[For the JULY 27, 2008 lectionary: Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52]

PEARL ON A TENNIS COURT by Larry Patten

Whether in my 1959 Revised Standard Version (the Bible my parents gave me when I was a young and foolish lad) or my 1990 New Revised Standard Version, Matthew’s Gospel reads “kingdom of heaven.”

However, I usually say, “realm of love.”

What is this kingdom or realm?

What does it mean to proclaim: The kingdom of heaven (substitute “realm of love”) is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.

I can more easily tell you WHY I prefer “realm of love” to “kingdom of heaven” than WHAT it means. Simply, realm is not male-oriented. A king is male. I was raised in a generation that questioned the use of male-only words and phrases. And so, I prefer changes that challenge limited, sexist language. Once I thought God was male, bearded, distant, capricious, and divine. A Holy Guy you always invited to parties and mostly hoped would never show up.

But I digress. What is the “realm of love?” Sadly, I suppose, it’s as much a cliché as “kingdom of heaven.” When I started using “realm of love” instead of “kingdom of heaven,” it was pretty cool that I got a reaction from some folks out in the pews.

“What the heck do you mean by that nonsense?” my generous-spirited parishioners would kindly query.

I replied that I used “realm of love” because people are so familiar with “kingdom of heaven” that they don’t listen. I reframed the language to make people wonder . . . and hear again. But after awhile, people stopped asking questions. I preached or taught and used “realm of love” and—ta-da—they stopped listening again. At first it was new and unsettling, then it became little different than the old version.

But I digress. Again. I always avoid subjects I’m nervous about.

Jesus said the “realm of love” was like a mustard seed that grew, a woman mixing yeast, someone finding (and hiding) a treasure, and a merchant searching for pearls.

Hold it. Stop. Let me grab a thick, expensive book from my library shelf and have a reputable scholar take a stab at a definition. No! I won’t do that . . . it will be more digression. I must be brave.

First, each of Jesus’ examples was simple. Seeds, yeast, a field. All mundane, all part of every day life. Second, a person does something and there is transformation.

And so let me let suggest this “parable” from my personal experience: the realm of love is like the woman at the tennis court hitting a ball with me until I rediscovered myself.

Huh? (Don’t you wish I were digressing, now?)

Years ago I was away from home and had one of the most frustrating times of my life. I angrily walked away from a church conference where every idea I had proposed was ignored or ridiculed and ended up at a nearby tennis court. Why do people say one thing and do another? How can people so casually insult or belittle another person? Why was everyone dumping on me? All I had was a can of balls, my racket, and the aforementioned anger.

I smacked the tennis ball against a wall. Alone. Angry. Hurt. And then a woman appeared and asked, “Want to hit with me?”

Every moment is a choice. What a radical difference there can be between “yes” and “no” . . . between wallowing in self-pity and turning to hear another. Will I add the leaven? Will I open my eyes wide enough to notice the treasure?

I said, “Yes.”

And we played. For over two hours. We never played a single formal game. It was all backhands, forehands, lobs, and net play. I never knew her name. She never knew mine. And then her boyfriend arrived and we waved goodbye.

I was alone again. No longer angry. No longer feeling hurt.

Jesus rarely used traditional “religious” language. In particular, in his parables, he spoke words that listeners could relate to. I fervently believe we all have our divine stories, moments in our lives—often as simple as a tennis game—where a new thing arrives. We can never plan them, but enough of the time we can welcome them.

For me the “realm of love” can be described as a tennis game. Not because “love” is one of the scores in that game. But because for a few unexpected hours someone—unbidden but essential—helped me transform anger into play. I had not known there was a pearl on that concrete tennis court.

“Want to hit with me?”

How blessed to answer, “Yes.”

What is your parable, what is your moment in God’s realm of love, that helps define the divine in your life? It will be different for each of us, and yet it will always have the same ending . . . we will have been transformed.

in Peace,

Larry