The tiny mustard seed—we must remember—was once indistinguishable from the lofty shrub that bore it. And, in being formed, and falling to the ground, appears to diminish, so that on reaching the ground, is virtually nothing in comparison with its lofty and vibrant parent. Furthermore, this process of diminishment and apparent descent into total insignificance is still incomplete: For, that tiny seed—now almost invisible—must first die and disintegrate in the mysterious process of germination by which it will take root in the dark soil that has been its grave.
We have just heard Jesus using this image in describing the coming of the Kingdom of God. And when we consider that Jesus taught that the Kingdom of God is not out there somewhere, but among us, and within us, then there is a sense in which we are called to become that small mustard seed destined to grow into the mature tree that is the kingdom taken root within our hearts—where Christ reigns as Lord and King.
The greatest obstacle to this blessed outcome, is that we resist acknowledging that we are that tiny and seemingly insignificant mustard seed—even though admitting this is but the necessary prelude to our true greatness and the glory Jesus longs to bestow on each of us. Instead, our foolish pride blinds us to the potential that resides in our littleness, and so we desperately rebel against our littleness, either by a despairing disgust at ourselves, or by a desperate attempt to delude ourselves into believing we are greater than we are.
The Prophet Jeremiah captures this pathetic state with his image of the cedar, from whose crest God tears off a tender shoot and plants it on a high and lofty mountain. What Jeremiah doesn’t say, is that this only happens with our “yes” to God’s work in us, and our willing cooperation in being torn off and surrendering our self-made, pseudo-greatness and trusting that by being first humbled and made small and insignificant, we are actually being made capable of true glory and greatness.
This “being humbled” is a long and painful struggle. And yet, as Saint Paul reassures us, this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. But however “light” this affliction may seem in consideration of its glorious outcome, it is rarely of short duration. Benedict’s Twelve Steps of Humility bear witness to this long struggle to yield to being humbled, and like that tiny mustard seed, being reduced to what feels like nothing and the loss of our very identity.
But, like that seed which in its final stage of decaying and disintegrating, gives birth to new life, so as we approach the twelfth rung of that Ladder of Humility—having shed and been stripped all that is false and illusory about ourselves, we will be surprised to experience, not annihilation, but rebirth and the final emergence of the person we were created to be. Then with our roots firmly established in the dark, rich soil of the Truth, we will grow into that majestic cedar, and become the locus of the Kingdom of God, with Christ reigning in hearts radiant with his glory.