The Cosmic Imagery of the Mustard Seed
The Cosmic Imagery of the Mustard Seed
Scripture is not a simple text.
Scripture is not a simple text. By this I don't mean it’s difficult, but rather what I just said: not simple, not “not composed of many parts.” Scripture certainly has many parts: it has many characters, various narrative devices, a host of genres, veiled meanings and fuller meanings, prophecies and revelations, etc.1 The difficulty that many can experience in studying Scripture can derive from, other than a personal intellectual infirmity,2 not being ready to face these realities. Ancient Christian study of Scripture prepared the people of its time for this by emphasizing the “four senses” (the literal/historical and the three spiritual senses: typological, moral, and anagogical), instilling the notion that Scripture can’t be approached one-dimensionally but rather is an enthralling and dynamic experience.3 As biblical studies have advanced and the study of God’s Word has been buttressed with more “academic” knowledge, this has also become apparent to people who’ve sought to understand Scripture through the means of literary criticism or of ancient cultural studies, which do add some much needed depth to Scripture (although oftentimes at the risk/cost of “secularizing” it, as I’ve expressed elsewhere).4 Now, because of the infantilization that Western Christianity has experienced during modernity5 the way we look at Scripture is very simplistic, as juvenile personalities beget juvenile means of perception that beget juvenile theologies.6 So, we circle back to that one-dimensional approach to Scripture which is colored with a dash of expressive individualism and, voila, we arrive at treating the Bible as, on the one hand, 23,145 verses of self-help instructions (or, more accurately, just a few dozen we hyperfixate on)7 and thus sermons about “slaying the giants in your life,” and on the other hand a story about the world’s greatest self-help guru. I say all this to establish that the way we read Scripture has progressed, throughout Christian history, from esteemed and disciplined to lackadaisical and self-centered. Accordingly, when we probe a variety of verses for their meaning, but only understand those verses as being autotelic rather than Christotelic, we miss out on a lot of true meaning, context, and nuance. One of the ways I wish to demonstrate and remedy this is by leading us through a spirited analysis of a seemingly unassuming piece of Scripture: the Parable of the Mustard Seed.
The modest parable reads as follows per Matthew (13:31-32):
He gave them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest garden plant and becomes a tree, so that the wild birds come and nest in its branches.”
The reading is very similar in the synoptic passages (Lk. 13:18-19; Mk. 4:30-32), but what about the meaning? Well, in its immediate sense, the “literal” (per the four senses set out above), the message is that the kingdom of God, while starting small and humble, will grow into a mighty force. However, can we go deeper with this?
What one will learn very quickly whether by happenstance, years of ardent study, or by virtue of a Bible that has built-in cross references (as with me), is that the Parable of the Mustard Seed recapitulates biblical language that appears in several other places in Scripture. Most apparent for our purposes are the words of Ezekiel from the first half of his book (17:22-23):
This is what the Sovereign Lord says: “I will take a sprig from the lofty top of the cedar and plant it. I will pluck from the top one of its tender twigs; I Myself will plant it on a high and lofty mountain. I will plant it on a high mountain of Israel, and it will raise branches and produce fruit and become a beautiful cedar. Every bird will live under it; every winged creature will live in the shade of its branches.”
What does this mean? Well, James Jordan notes that the cedar tree was the symbol of the Davidic covenant, as it was out of the cedars of Lebanon that the house of David built the Temple, establishing a new age in Israel’s worship of Yahweh their God.8 As Dr. Tom Constable adds, “the Lord Himself would also snip a tender twig from the top of the tall cedar tree that represented the Davidic line of kings,” for as David himself proclaims to the prophet Nathan: “I am living in a palace made from cedar” (2 Sam. 7:2; cf. 1 Kgs. 5). So, a sprig from the House of David (the house of cedar) will be planted “on a high and lofty mountain” in Israel. Does that also sound familiar? It should, because as Dr. Constable points out this “tender twig seems clearly to be a messianic reference” as can be seen from an assembly of verses across the prophets:
“A shoot will grow out of Jesse’s root stock,a bud will sprout from his roots” (Isa. 11:1).9
“I, the Lord, promise that a new time will certainly come when I will raise up for them a righteous branch, a descendant of David. He will rule over them with wisdom and understanding and will do what is just and right in the land. Under his rule Judah will enjoy safety and Israel will live in security. This is the name he will go by: ‘The Lord has provided us with justice’” (Jer. 23:5-6).
“Then say to him, ‘The Lord of Heaven’s Armies says, “Look—here is the man whose name is Branch, who will sprout up from his place and build the temple of the Lord. Indeed, he will build the temple of the Lord, and he will be clothed in splendor, sitting as king on his throne. Moreover, there will be a priest with him on his throne and they will see eye to eye on everything’” (Zech. 6:12-13).
This becomes doubly interesting when we note Isaiah’s messianic prophecies and the humble imagery of the parable, for at the beginning of the fourth song of the Suffering Servant it’s said that “He sprouted up like a twig before God, like a root out of parched soil; he had no stately form or majesty that might catch our attention” (Isa. 53:2), connecting arboreal imagery with that of a man without stately appearance, humble and insignificant. The connections between Ezekiel 17:22 and Isaiah 53:2 aren’t merely conceptual but textual as well, driving home the idea that there’s some manner of inspired correspondence here. In the same way that people “considered him insignificant” (v. 2) the mustard seed is “smaller than all the other seeds” (Mt. 13:32). Yet, the Suffering Servant is exalted and restored (Isa. 53:10-12) as the mustard seed “when it is fully grown…is larger than the garden plants and becomes a tree” (Mt. 13:32).
So, again, inspired correspondence is certainly at work here. Reading Ezekiel beyond its literal into its spiritual sense we see that there is a messianic element to this language. Indeed, consider where Ezekiel describes the Lord as planting His messianic twig: “on a high mountain of Israel” (17:22). Ezekiel also says that this twig will himself become a “a beautiful cedar” (v. 23), which reflects what I just said about the insignificant root becoming the mighty tree, the messianic prophecy of death and resurrection, and it also connects to what I mentioned about cedar being the tree of the Davidic covenant, as the tree of the temple. Indeed, scholars have connected the temple imagery with the cedar, Dr. Constable noting that Ezekiel’s “high mountain is probably Mount Zion, the place where Messiah will set up His throne in the Millennium” and connects this to Psalm 2: “I myself have installed my king on Zion, my holy hill” (v. 6).10 There’s other passages in the Old Testament that connect Zion, the messianic king, and the Temple (cf. Zech. 8:3; Ps. 48:2; Ps. 132:12), most explicitly in the prophecy of Zechariah (6:12-13) mentioned above:
Then say to him, ‘The Lord of Heaven’s Armies says, “Look—here is the man whose name is Branch, who will sprout up from his place and build the temple of the Lord. Indeed, he will build the temple of the Lord, and he will be clothed in splendor, sitting as king on his throne. Moreover, there will be a priest with him on his throne and they will see eye to eye on everything.’”
We have the imagery of the tree, it sprouting up, the Messiah, the temple, and the only thing we explicitly lack is reference to the mountain of God, but considering the profound imagery of the cosmic mountain and the role it’s always played in the ancient Israelite religion,11 in addition to the fact that Mt. Zion is given a messianic role (as noted before with Ps. 2:6, cf. the conversation here), I say it’s reasonable to conclude this is happening on God’s holy mountain, “from his place” as it’s worded by Zechariah.12
By connecting all this it’s pretty clear that Ezekiel’s prophecy connects to messianic imagery, when interpreted in the spiritual sense. Now, what does this mean given its employment by Christ, the Messiah, several centuries later? The answer, of course, is that we’re seeing how it’s being fulfilled as is often the situation when the Gospels incorporate Old Testament language or imagery in the words or deeds of Christ (cf. Lk. 24:13-35). So, given this Old Testament provenance, are we interpreting Christ’s employment of it in the Gospels in its appropriate sense? Well, given that we’ve learned that the arboreal imagery of Ezekiel is messianic, then we must take this to be the case as well in the Parable, which also employs arboreal imagery. If the Messiah is a sprig that sprouts up, then what must the mustard seed that grows into a mighty tree be but the Messiah as well? This is made clear from other parts of the New Testament where Christ is held in parallel to a seed, most explicitly by Himself in John 12: “I tell you the solemn truth, unless a kernel of wheat [κόκκος σίτου ∥ κόκκῳ σινάπεως in Mt. 13:31] falls into the ground and dies, it remains by itself alone. But if it dies, it produces much grain” (v. 24). This is clearly in reference to Christ’s death and subsequent resurrection, and it also relates to the language of the small and insignificant becoming stately and extraordinary. This connection is made doubly clear based on the most detailed exposition on the Resurrection in the New Testament, 1 Corinthians 15:
And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare seed—perhaps of wheat or something else. But God gives it a body just as He planned, and to each of the seeds a body of its own. … It is the same with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. (vv. 37-38, 42-44)
The language is clear: “sowing” and “raising” are agricultural terms,13 seed is explicitly mentioned, and Paul’s whole theology of the Resurrection is grounded in “Christ, the firstfruits” (v. 23).14 Therefore, Christ is the seed (cf. 1 Pet. 1:23).
Given all this, then, here’s how I interpret the Parable of the Mustard Seed: The mustard seed is Christ, Who is incarnated (“took”) by the Father (“a man”) and crucified and buried in the ground (“sowed in His field”), a seed small and unsuspecting like Isaiah’s Servant (53:2), which then gloriously resurrects into a mighty tree (“when it has grown it is the greatest garden plant and becomes a tree”). From a historical perspective, this is much like the Church beginning from its unesteemed and mild Galilean beginnings into the driving force of the Roman Empire within four centuries.15 This is on the basis of the messianic imagery the prophecy of Ezekiel ties into, as discussed above, and Christ being the Christ. The question that remains now is what exactly the latter half of the Parable signifies, that when it grows up “the wild birds come and nest in its branches” (Mt. 13:32). Clearly, parables are meant to be interpreted, X means Y and A means B, so if seed = Christ, then does “the wild birds” mean anything?
Here we will take a look at other instances in Scripture where such language is reflected. We don’t have to leave Ezekiel yet for in the next part of the very same prophecy we’ve been looking at he also states that “every bird will live under it; every winged creature will live in the shade of its branches” (17:23). However, there is a clear distinction here: Ezekiel describes the birds as living under the tree, while Christ’s parable has them in the branches of the tree. Does this have any significance? It must, and this is clear when we look at where Christ might have derived the language for this part of his parable from. It’s not Ezekiel 17, but it’s still in Ezekiel, although it doesn’t have to do with the Messiah, but with Assyria:
Consider Assyria, a cedar in Lebanon, with beautiful branches, like a forest giving shade, and extremely tall; its top reached into the clouds. The water made it grow; underground springs made it grow tall. Rivers flowed all around the place it was planted, while smaller channels watered all the trees of the field. Therefore it grew taller than all the trees of the field; its boughs grew large and its branches grew long, because of the plentiful water in its shoots. All the birds of the sky nested in its boughs; under its branches all the beasts of the field gave birth; in its shade all the great nations lived. It was beautiful in its loftiness, in the length of its branches; for its roots went down deep to plentiful waters. The cedars in the garden of God could not eclipse it, nor could the fir trees match its boughs; the plane trees were as nothing compared to its branches; no tree in the garden of God could rival its beauty. I made it beautiful with its many branches; all the trees of Eden, in the garden of God, envied it. (31:3-9)
Okay, so what does this tell us? Well, as we read here Ezekiel sees “the birds of the sky nested in its boughs,” which more directly reflects the language of Christ’s parable. However, this oracle of Ezekiel’s should remind us of another passage in Scripture, one given to of all people a pagan emperor, but interpreted by an Israelite exile:
Here are the visions of my mind while I was on my bed:
“While I was watching, there was a tree in the middle of the land. It was enormously tall. The tree grew large and strong. Its top reached far into the sky; it could be seen from the borders of all the land. Its foliage was attractive and its fruit plentiful; on it there was food enough for all. Under it the wild animals used to seek shade, and in its branches the birds of the sky used to nest. All creatures used to feed themselves from it.” (Dan. 4:10-12)
Both of these arboreal oracles refer to mighty empires as if they were extraordinary trees. Why might this be? Well, as the biblical theologian William Osborne reflects, “the poet/prophet of Ezekiel 28 and 31 appears to blend together common ancient Near Eastern concepts in a way that assumes a familiarity with these extra-biblical, mythopoeic scenes, while using them as a polemical platform to launch their oracles against the nations,” connecting the arboreal imagery of Ezekiel with the transcultural, transhistorical motif of the world-tree, which was not at all absent from the worldview of the ancient Israelites.16 This motif plays a role in various mythologies, and we may be more familiar with them than we may first think (such as the mighty Yggdrasil, among the Norse).17 In other words, Assyria is being compared with the cosmic world-tree, as is Nebuchadnezzar (Babylon).18 This can be seen in the clearly cosmic dimensions of the trees, with nations being described as coming to either from across the world (Ezek. 31:6; Dan. 4:22), their reaching into the heavens (Ezek. 31:3; Dan. 4:11), and in Ezekiel’s case with the intriguing reference to “the garden of God” (Ezek. 31:8-9).
To make sense of this, both with Assyria and Babylon (Nebuchadnezzar) the idea behind these passages is that either empire has symbolically become like the world-tree, because of their power and might they are basically the foundations upon which the known world are based. As for why the ancients would have thought this way, that can be easily demonstrated through what many of us may already know about the Roman Empire: by establishing its military might across the entire Mediterranean basin, hundreds of nations19 and millions of people knew peace, and through this peace they knew prosperity, achieved through the Roman roads, and, as it’s been said, “All roads lead to Rome.”20 Life flowed out from Rome and returned to her through tributes, plunder, and pilgrimage. This was the famed Pax Romana. When Rome fell, many considered it apocalyptic, and as St. Jerome would write in the preface to his commentary on Ezekiel (how coincidental) “the bright light of all the world was put out” when Alaric laid waste to Rome, “when the Roman Empire was decapitated, and, to speak more correctly, the whole world perished in one city,” marking the end of the world as all had known it for over three centuries.21 Empires, then, could easily be understood in the minds of ancients as being otherworldly, cosmic forces, and understandably emperors were often the figures that would be honored with deification (because the power they wielded made them seem most deserving).
I say all this to drive home a simple point: given what the world-tree represented, the otherworldly force upon which the cosmos were based, empires were reasonably compared with them due to their power, riches, and longevity. So, what has this to do with Christ’s parable? Well I want to bring your attention back to Ezekiel 31 to understand what I think Christ signifies in the latter part of his parable: “the beasts of the field gave birth; in its shade all the great nations lived” (v. 6). This is parallel to Nebuchadnezzar’s vision (“Under it the wild animals used to seek shade, and in its branches the birds of the sky used to nest” [Dan. 4:12b]), to Ezekiel’s earlier vision of the messianic tree (“Every bird will live under it; Every winged creature will live in the shade of its branches” [Ezek. 17:23), and to Christ’s Parable (“so that the wild birds come and nest in its branches” [Matt. 13:32]). As I also pointed out earlier, there is a difference between these: in Ezekiel’s oracle about Assyria and Nebuchadnezzar’s dream vision the referent is beasts under the tree and birds in the branches, the latter being the same for Christ’s parable. For Ezekiel’s first vision, however, it’s the birds who are under the tree enjoying its shade. What gives? I think that since in the other passages (barring for now the Parable) the symbolic referent is the nations of the world,22 Ezekiel for his purposes changes it to birds to represent how the nations will “flock” to Israel to enjoy the shade cast by the Messianic world-tree.23
So, those animals which gather under the tree enjoying its shade represent human nations (i.e., humanity at-large). This would represent the world-tree quite well because, per its mythological profile, the roots of this tree would sink deep down into the earth, its ends reaching the primordial waters below and being watered by them,24 and then blossoming up towards the highest heavens, growing into a canopy that would provide shade, bringing comfort to the realms below. As I, and some others probably, learned in their high school environmental science unit, deforestation is problematic in one respect because in certain areas it can worsen landslides, since the deep root systems of trees can stabilize the soil and keep it anchored. I believe a similar understanding was available to the minds of the ancients as they developed their mythologies, and so the earthly roots of the world tree kept the Earth anchored in Creation, allowing for the mortals who lived upon that plane to rest easily.25
What, then, of the “the wild birds” that “come and nest in its branches”? Well, if those which are under this cosmic tree spoken of throughout Scripture correspond (by-and-large) to the earthly realm and humanity, then I submit that those which dwell above them in the boughs of the tree correspond to angels. This is not hard to see, especially given the biblical symbolism, as angels are in the heavens, connecting to how the birds were created to “fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky” (Gen. 1:20) which reflects the heavenly lights created “in the expanse of the sky” (v. 14) to govern time and the movement of seasons and calendars.26 Why are the angels up there? What are they doing? Well, the world-tree motif explains to us what’s happening: in the same way the world tree digs deep down into the earth and anchors it, it also grows high up into the heavens and supports them, the trunk betwixt stabilizing each. The earthly roots of the world-tree draw water up, and this water nourishes the leaves of the crown, which allows them to absorb the sunlight (the light of divine glory), which produces energy that feeds the rest of the tree (“For in Him we live and move about and exist”), which keeps the roots alive to continue this symbiotic process. This is a simplified explanation of the biology of trees, but it’s what the ancients would’ve understood in their mainly macroscopic and symbolic way of looking at things, and so the theme of the world-tree is the symbiotic relationship between the heavens and the earth, which are bounded together by God. As my friend
explains, “The Bible’s cosmology, and ancient cosmology more broadly, involves two poles - Heaven and Earth. This is what God creates in the beginning, with the subsequent days of creation being a marriage ceremony wherein God brings these two poles together in nuptial union - culminating in the birth of a child, a microcosm of this dipolar macrocosm, man.” Heaven and Earth were created as bipolar realities, symbiotic siblings, intended by God to come together in the beauty of communion, and at the center of the Old Creation was, of course, a world-tree (Gen. 2:9).At the center of the New Creation is the world-tree, the one Ezekiel saw sprout up and the one greater than Nebuchadnezzar’s, Pharoah’s, or Sennacherib’s, identified with Christ, and this can be made clear when one approaches the Passion of Christ as a seven-day narrative, with Holy Saturday representing the new seventh day rest of God Who commences His universal reign through the Resurrection in which He is put over all as cosmic king (Col. 1:15-17; Phil. 2:9-11; Rev. 4:9-11).27 Of course, Christ’s creative-redemptive work is done on a tree (the Cross).
So, the symbolism is simply that God is the world-tree, He binds the realms together and unifies them, making the heavens earthly and the earth heavenly. I’m not the most well-versed on the deeper theo-philosophical implications of all this symbolism, but I’ve been informed that it can tie into matters such as theosis, and there’s also a lot more that can be said about the notion of the consummation of heaven and earth. I’m less an authority on these items than my friends
, , or , and so I enthusiastically throw the ball into their courts, hoping this present essay has served as an excellent basis for such deeper probings. How appropriate, in retrospect, is it that a parable about the humble origins and success of the messianic kingdom should itself appear humble and yet give way to such extraordinarily deep meaning?L. Ryken’s Words of Delight and R. Alter’s Art of Biblical Narrative are the two most recognized and influential works on biblical literary criticism.
Such as not distinguishing between “reading” and “studying,” an unexpectedly impactful error.
Cf. J. L. Morrow, Liturgy and Sacrament, Mystagogy and Martyrdom, esp. 6-32; B. McGinn, The Essential Writings of Christian Mysticism, 3-46; C. Hall, Reading Scripture with the Church Fathers; The Cud Chewer, “Prologue: Eternally Chewing Cud.”
Which, as I’ve now introduced the notion of the four senses, can be explained as overemphasizing the minutiae and disciplining of the literal sense to the expense of practicing and profiting from the spiritual senses.
See Thomas Bergler, The Juvenilization of American Christianity. If you aren’t looking to purchase a book (for now) I can also provide you with the following two articles: “The Juvenilization of American Christianity” and “Book Review: The Juvenilization of American Christianity and From Here to Maturity, by Thomas E. Bergler.”
The way a child looks at the world is different than an adults, and contemplating the child’s way of perception is good for people who are matured adults (cf. Mt. 18:3), but to remain as such in person is illicit.
Or, as is sometimes the case, a few dozen that we filter the other 23,000 through.
J. Jordan, Through New Eyes, 82, 91.
W.H. Brownlee: “Likewise, although the metaphor is different, the Lord’s transplanting of the sprig of the cedar to Jerusalem corresponds with the new shoot from the stump of Jesse in Isa 11:1” (Ezekiel 1-19, 274); cf. M. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1-20, 316; J. Wevers, Ezekiel, 107.
Even though the NET translates הַר (har) here as “hill” it’s more frequently and notably translated throughout the Old Testament as “mountain,” and there is no translation note provided as to why they’ve done this. Plenty of other translations use the word “mountain” instead: e.g., NIV, NLT, NASB, CSB, HCSB, ISV, etc.
On the cosmic mountain motif as it’s adapted and portrayed by the ancient Israelite religion see R. Clifford, The Cosmic Mountain in Canaan and the Old Testament and L.M. Morales, The Tabernacle Pre-Figured.
Cf. the comment of W.H. Brownlee: “This expression designates the temple mount in 20:40; cf. 34:14. Ezekiel may have been familiar with the prophecy of the exaltation of the temple mount in the last days (Isa 2:2 = Mic 4:1)” (Ezekiel 1-19, 273).
“Raising” (ἐγείρω, egeiró) isn’t the same word as “reaping” (θερίζω, therizó) that appears more notably in collocation with “sowing” (σπείρω, speiró), but since speiró is the “right” word here it’s reasonable to conclude that Paul has the same agricultural saying in mind.
Cf. B. Blackwell, Christosis; M. Gorman, Participating in Christ.
See Rodney Stark, The Triumph of Christianity.
W. Osborne, Trees and Kings, here p. 118; cf. the lecture clip “Jeruslaem and the World Tree” from Dr. Michael Heiser.
Osborne’s work is a great introduction to the comparative mythology of the world-tree, and its biblical role; cf. the article “The Assyrian Tree of Life” by the prominent Finnish Assyriologist Simo Parpola.
Cf. the words of W. Zimmerli quoted by Brownlee (Ezekiel 1-19, 274): “The description used of the mountain of God, the paradisal place of God’s presence (cf. to 28:11f.), and the ‘world tree’ under which all the creatures of the earth gather (cf. to 31:1ff.) stems from the language of myth.”
If we understand “nation” in it’s classical sense that would correspond to what we today call “people groups” or “ethnicities.”
As all blood vessels lead to or from the beating heart, the center of the living body.
Which is made clear in the case of Ezekiel’s later oracle concerning Assyria by how it parallels “all the beasts of the field” with “all the great nations” (Ezek. 31:6b, c).
Brownlee argues that this is a vision of the messianic shalom wherein peace will be had between all creatures, prey and predator, man and beast, but accepts that it may be the case that “the birds and beasts are both literal and symbolic” and that the following verse, which he parses as representing human dynasties, would seem to affirm that Ezekiel is in that state of mind (Ezekiel 1-19, 275). Greenberg backs me by arguing that these birds “are not a figure for the nations; those are represented by ‘the trees of the field’ in the next verse” but presumes that while the nations are allegorized, the birds aren’t (Ezekiel 1-20, 316-17). I’d ask him to consider what I have to say below.
This is most explicitly referenced in the mention of waters in v. 4: “The water made it grow; underground springs made it grow tall. Rivers flowed all around the place it was planted, while smaller channels watered all the trees of the field.” If it’s a world-tree, this would be the waters under the earth, the primordial waters, held back by the firmament-dome. A crash course in ancient Israelite cosmology would be helpful, which I can offer here.
Peaceful life under the shade of a tree is a sign of cosmic shalom as can be drawn out from 1 Kgs. 4:5 (cf. Jordan, Through New Eyes, 84).
See Jordan, Through New Eyes, 105-13 (cf. 100); cf. Michael Heiser, The Unseen Realm, 24fn3.
The theology and symbolism of the sevenfold structure of the Passion corresponding to the seven days of Creation and the seventh day corresponding to the Resurrection is a wonderful and enriching journey, although I couldn’t find any worthwhile online resources. It’ll probably be up to me to provide that in the near-future!