Josephine Anne and Mustard Seeds

A pint-sized woman with a big heart for the country. This is how friends and family have described Josephine Anne Lapira. Her description reminds me of the mustard seed in Jesus’s parables. It is the smallest of seeds which becomes the greatest of all shrubs, putting forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.

Pliny the Elder, in his Natural History, wrote that “mustard grows entirely wild, and when it is sown, it is scarcely possible to get the place free of it, as the seed when it falls germinates at once.”

John Dominic Crossan tells us that the mustard in the parable was a wild weed shrub that grew to about five feet. Even in their domesticated form they were a lot to handle. Mustard in a well-kept garden not only spread beyond expectations but also attracted birds of all forms thus disturbing the made-up balance of a well-manicured garden, with the birds’ unpredictable feeding habits, and worse, their droppings.

Gardeners, of course, did not want weeds in their gardens. They did not want wild mustard at all cost. They spend time creating the perfect balance in their gardens: putting in the best, throwing out the worst. A well-manicured garden has no room for wild mustard, so they cut mustard young and at the roots. The mustard weed though have a way of coming back.

They always do.

Jesus likens the reign of God to a weed. It grows where it is not wanted and eventually takes over the place. All wild mustard have to be cut down lest they disturb the domesticity of the gardens tended by the rich, the powerful, and the religious elite.

But wild weeds have a way of coming back. When you least expect them. Ask any gardener. You can never completely eradicate wild weeds like mustard. They have a way of sprouting in places where they disturb, disrupt, and dismantle well-manicured gardens.

They always do!

What gardeners never understand is this: for every mustard they cut down.  Ten will take its place. For every ten, one hundred. For every hundred, a thousand.

Josephine Anne and everyone like her will rise again. They always do.