Kisa Gotami

How does the Buddha's Mustard Seed Parable go? asked Jesus. You'd better tell me, if you think it's so good.

It's a lot more complex than yours, I said. There's a rich man whose gold and silver turns to ashes. He's understandably upset. A wise friend tells him to go to the market place and set up his ashes and pretend to trade with them.

I like this story, said Jesus. It's funny.

Yes, that's what you think now, but listen. People ask him why he has ashes for sale. He tells them, these are my riches. The people think he's gone nuts. A poor young orphan girl called Kisa Gotami passes his stall and asks him why he has silver and gold for sale. He says, please hand me some of it. When she does, the ashes have turned back into gold.

Great story, said Jesus, but what about the Mustard Seeds?

Be patient, I'm getting to that part now. Well, the rich man sees that this girl has an eye for the true value of things...

What! cried Jesus.

.....and he marries her to his son.

Oh, I see, said Jesus.

Jesus, I said. Do shut up. This part is only of minor relevance.

I think you'll find it isn't, he said, looking wise. If I know anything about parables, he added.

I decided not to answer that, but pressed on.

Anyway, Kisa Gotami has a baby, and some time later it dies.

Oh, I know what's going to happen next, said Jesus.

No you don't, I said. She's very distraught, and runs around to all the neighbours asking for medicine.

Ha! said Jesus. But the baby's dead.

That's what the neighbours say. They think she's gone nuts.

You see! said Jesus triumphantly. The parallel with the first part of the story!

Oh yes. You're quite right. Thanks for pointing it out, I said. Now, one of the neighbours tells her to go and see the Buddha, because he might be able to help.

Jesus looked a bit put out. The Buddha puts himself into his own parable, he said. That doesn't seem right. Did I ever do that?

I don't think so, I said

No, it's unconventional, said Jesus. Still, there's nothing wrong with being unconventional.

True, I agreed. So, the girl goes to see the Buddha, and asks him for medicine that will cure her baby. And he says, bring me a handful of mustard seed.

At last, says Jesus. I suppose he's going to do a miracle.

No, stop second-guessing! He says that the mustard seed must be taken from a house where no one has lost a child, husband, parent or friend.

Well! said Jesus, this is either amazingly cruel or the Buddha has something further up his sleeve.

He hasn't, I said. Kisa Gotami goes from house to house with her dead baby and eventually realises that death is common to all. Then she buries her baby, goes back to the Buddha and takes refuge in him, finding comfort in the Dharma, and the path to enlightenment.

The cheek of it! exclaimed Jesus.

The Mustard Seed Parable Explained

Just then there was a knock on the door. It was Jesus.

Hello, he said. I was just in the area, may I come in?

We had two Christian ladies come round on Saturday, I said. And we sent them away.

Good for you, said Jesus. Interfering women. I wouldn't have let them in either.

Well, what are you here for? I asked.

I hear you have a few questions about my Mustard Seed Parable, he replied.

Oh, come in then, I said, and have a cup of tea. My friend Pliny was pointing out that the mustard seed doesn't actually grow into a tree.

True, said Jesus, but that is just a fault of translation. The word I used meant shrub. But here is a more interesting fact that not many people know. The black mustard plant is a managed weed in Galilee. What do you think about that?

You were saying that the Kingdom of God is like a managed weed?

Maybe I was. The best thing about a parable is that it's open to many interpretations. I like to think I meant it was ubiquitous.

Like those ladies?

No, not quite like them. Well, yes, perhaps.

Hmm, it's not your best parable, is it?

No, not my best.

The Buddha has a better one.

What's it about?

A handful of mustard seeds.

Well at least, said Jesus, no one can accuse me of one upmanship.

The Mustard Seed

I was surprised by the intrusion of the mustard seed into your musical criticism, said Pliny the Elder. But I suppose I was supposed to be. Did you finally manage to get it out from between your teeth?

Yes, but not until I got home at the end of the day, I said. There is nothing as efficacious as dental floss.

True, agreed Pliny, but to return to the parable of the mustard seed.....

Parable?

You meant it as a parable, did you not? A story to illustrate the dual nature of surprise?

I did, but is it a parable if it's something that really happened?

That all depends on the telling. Jesus had a parable about a mustard seed, so I've heard.

Oh yes I know that one. Consider the mustard seed. It's very small but it grows into a large tree that birds can shelter in. It's supposed to represent the Kingdom of Heaven.

But a mustard seed doesn't grow into a large tree! It grows at best into a middle-sized bush.

That's a good point. Whatever was Jesus thinking of? Perhaps he was remembering a time he had one stuck between his teeth.

Surprises

I like to read the program notes when I go to a Lunch Hour Concert. Then I know what I'm listening for.

Yesterday the program was Jazz Originals, the staff and Honours students playing some of their own compositions in various combinations.

Jazz is literally about surprise, said the program notes, and since we don't regularly perform together there will indeed be some surprises today.

Now I don't usually find jazz surprising, so I thought that if I was surprised by anything I heard in the next fifty minutes I would be very surprised indeed. That is not to say I was not hoping to be surprised.

The first piece was called Tina. The pianist had composed it, and written a long introduction for himself, which he played while the other players stood with nothing to do. No surprises there.

Then, Dusty Cox said a few words. But surprise! The microphone was faulty! We couldn't hear what he was saying. He didn't notice. The other players laughed at what was to us an inaudible joke.

The third composition was called The Ballad of the Unclean Coffee Machine. This had been composed by the bass player, and was about an attempt at cleaning a coffee machine that had gone horribly wrong. But you only got a surprise if you thought the music might somehow reflect this.

In short, surprise was in short supply, at least for the audience. The players were contantly exhibiting surprise and admiration for one another. This led me to understand a remarkable thing. It didn't much matter about us.

Meanwhile a surprise was unfolding in my mouth. A mustard seed, from lunch, was lodged between my teeth most annoyingly, and refused to dislodge no matter what contortions I tried to perform with my tongue.

Yes there are two sorts of surprises. Ones that surprise you when something happens and ones that surprise you when something doesn't. Perhaps I do get jazz after all.