Jesus and the Venus Rosewater Dish -- FPC sermon excerpt
It’s a dish.
A little more than 18 inches in diameter. Made of sterling silver. Around the rim appears the goddess Minerva, with symbols for the liberal arts, from arithmetic to rhetoric.
There’s nothing on the dish about tennis. Which is strange, given the fact that it is the trophy awarded to the ladies’ singles champion at Wimbledon, the tennis tournament that ended just a week ago.
The Venus Rosewater Dish. That’s what the trophy is called, and the “Venus” part was there long before Venus Williams won it five times, most recently this year — over her sister Serena.
According to The Washington Post (November 17, 2007), the dish was made in 1864, and has been awarded to the singles champ since 1886. The winners get to hold the dish, but they don’t get to keep it. The original stays in the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Museum, and the winner gets an 8-inch replica and prize money — roughly $1.4 million.
Not a bad consolation prize.
Now if you were to run across this dish in an art gallery, you might say, “Huh?” It looks like something that should be propped up in your grandmother’s china cabinet. But if you are a tennis player, The Dish is a precious treasure, a holy grail, a pearl of great value. Players from around the world push themselves to their physical and mental limits — training, practicing, focusing, competing — hoping to be able to play at Wimbledon. And all the way, they are dreaming of the Venus Rosewater Dish.
Of course, this trophy is not unique. There is no lack of odd prizes that people pursue with passion and single-minded purpose. Consider:
The Borg-Warner Trophy, awarded to the winner of the Indianapolis 500 since 1936. On it are the sculpted faces of each winner, and the cup’s hollow body is able to hold 48 cans of beer.
The Green Jacket, given to the winner of the Masters golf tournament since 1949. Winners are thrilled to wear the coveted Green Jacket, even though it is really quite ugly.
An Olive Wreath, placed on the heads of Boston Marathon winners since 1897. Sad to say, I didn’t get one when I ran in 2006. These olive branches are cut from groves in Marathon, Greece, the scene of the battle from which the original marathoner, a man named Pheidippides, ran to announce the Athenian victory in 490 B.C. Then he dropped dead.
At least I survived my run.
Open your Bible to Matthew 13:31-52, and you discover another set of rather peculiar prizes that people pursue with passion and purpose, using every ounce of their heart, soul, mind, and strength. What unites all these treasures is that they are illustrations of the kingdom of God.
“The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field,” says Jesus, “which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field” (Matthew 13:44).
A little more than 18 inches in diameter. Made of sterling silver. Around the rim appears the goddess Minerva, with symbols for the liberal arts, from arithmetic to rhetoric.
There’s nothing on the dish about tennis. Which is strange, given the fact that it is the trophy awarded to the ladies’ singles champion at Wimbledon, the tennis tournament that ended just a week ago.
The Venus Rosewater Dish. That’s what the trophy is called, and the “Venus” part was there long before Venus Williams won it five times, most recently this year — over her sister Serena.
According to The Washington Post (November 17, 2007), the dish was made in 1864, and has been awarded to the singles champ since 1886. The winners get to hold the dish, but they don’t get to keep it. The original stays in the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Museum, and the winner gets an 8-inch replica and prize money — roughly $1.4 million.
Not a bad consolation prize.
Now if you were to run across this dish in an art gallery, you might say, “Huh?” It looks like something that should be propped up in your grandmother’s china cabinet. But if you are a tennis player, The Dish is a precious treasure, a holy grail, a pearl of great value. Players from around the world push themselves to their physical and mental limits — training, practicing, focusing, competing — hoping to be able to play at Wimbledon. And all the way, they are dreaming of the Venus Rosewater Dish.
Of course, this trophy is not unique. There is no lack of odd prizes that people pursue with passion and single-minded purpose. Consider:
The Borg-Warner Trophy, awarded to the winner of the Indianapolis 500 since 1936. On it are the sculpted faces of each winner, and the cup’s hollow body is able to hold 48 cans of beer.
The Green Jacket, given to the winner of the Masters golf tournament since 1949. Winners are thrilled to wear the coveted Green Jacket, even though it is really quite ugly.
An Olive Wreath, placed on the heads of Boston Marathon winners since 1897. Sad to say, I didn’t get one when I ran in 2006. These olive branches are cut from groves in Marathon, Greece, the scene of the battle from which the original marathoner, a man named Pheidippides, ran to announce the Athenian victory in 490 B.C. Then he dropped dead.
At least I survived my run.
Open your Bible to Matthew 13:31-52, and you discover another set of rather peculiar prizes that people pursue with passion and purpose, using every ounce of their heart, soul, mind, and strength. What unites all these treasures is that they are illustrations of the kingdom of God.
“The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field,” says Jesus, “which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field” (Matthew 13:44).
posted by Henry Brinton | 7:55 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home