Where the journey may lead

March 1, 2024

Genesis 37:3-4, 12-28 | Matt 21:33-43 | Psalm 105:16-22

Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.”

This gospel tells us the kingdom of God will be given not to those who merely show up, but to those who “produce the fruit.” The use of such a strong action verb – “produce” – makes clear that we are called to act and to deliver. There’s an expectation of labor here, and of results. 

Questions inevitably follow. I can “talk the talk” of Christianity – but can I “walk the walk?” Sometimes it’s easy to find comfort and maybe a little self-satisfaction in small actions: I smiled at a stranger. I bought a coffee for a friend. I let someone merge in front of me (ok maybe that one’s actually huge for a Rhode Islander…). Are these small acts of kindness – which cost me little, and yield little in return – enough to “produce the fruit” of the kingdom of God? They certainly feel nice. Nice for the receiver. Quite nice for me as the giver.

But in this season of sacrifice, is God calling me to do more? To risk something, to dig deeper, and to push myself? How can I labor, and how can that labor produce the fruits of the kingdom of God? I’m certain there’s a range of acceptable ways to labor and “produce the fruit” in God’s eyes. I don’t claim to have the answers here. Lately, though, here’s what’s been on my mind as I ponder these questions:

A recent essay from the Episcopal Church called for difficult conversations in our faith communities – the kind that prioritize justice over comfort, in line with Jesus’ example. In a completely different context, I recently heard someone say, “we need to create not just safe spaces, but brave ones, to allow for hard conversations.” She was referencing the kind of dialogue that generates honest self-reflection, accountability, reconciliation, and action. I admit that my own anxiety, and a desire to retreat, kicks in sometimes when I picture these tough conversations and hear these calls to action for justice. But I wonder if these “brave spaces” are where I’m called to journey this Lent. I wonder — if I can push aside my own fears and insecurities and push myself toward joining these efforts, might I encounter those who are working for God’s kingdom in ways unexpected? I’m eager to see where the journey may lead.

Katie Anderson