Downtown was just warming to sunrise as Sister Elyse and I unloaded the contents of the van onto the sidewalk at Fourth and Adams streets: a tent and table, loads of fresh bread and a tote full of handcrafted items from Sister Kristin. This was our last day at the Old Capitol Farmers Market; it proved to be a fine one.
A parade of humanity passed our tent – people stopped to talk. Some we knew, many we didn’t; everyone seemed gregarious on the crisp fall day, and happy for a chat. Folks were drawn to the fresh bread – which sold out – and Sister Kristin’s wire and bead suncatchers – some whimsical, some that included tasteful crosses in the center. We sold almost all of those, too.
Soon I noticed a refrain building in my head: To what shall we compare the kingdom of God? To what shall we liken it? That’s where my brain wanted to go. Could we compare the reign of God to a farmers’ market?
Why not? Jesus used a multitude of images for parables: yeast and dough, coins and sheep, light and salt, pearls and lots of people: The prodigal son, the rich man and Lazarus, a Samaritan on the road from Jerusalem. If a lowly mustard seed or a despised tax collector can be tossed alongside God’s reign, why not the market?
Tossing alongside is actually what the Greek compound para ballo means: Tossing (ballo) something alongside (para) another thing and teasing out what can be taken from the comparison. Jesus’ often tossed quotidian experiences against his need to help the disciples understand what it would mean to place our relationships with one another and with God at center stage. There was always a catch. That is the thing to remember about parables. If you think you have it figured out on first listen, think again.
My current mentor in the study of parables is Dr. Amy-Jill Levine, a Jewish New Testament scholar. In her book The Short Stories of Jesus she said Jesus understood that the best teaching comes from narratives that remind us what we know but might resist, and that parables are not so much answers, as invitations to grapple with the challenges of living as a society, determining what matters the most, and discerning how to live in accord with God’s desires.
So, with that in mind, in what way is God’s reign like a farmers’ market? It provides all manner of benefits: human interaction to combat isolation, fresh nutritious food from local farmers to keep us healthy and lower our carbon footprint, opportunities for artists and crafts people to converse with those who appreciate their work. Neighborliness, kindness, enjoyment, and hospitality are part of it, too. We joked about estimating the dog-to-human ratio and enjoyed the creativity of various passers’-by sartorial preferences.
These pleasant thoughts are wonderful to contemplate. The reign of God pairs nicely with this idyllic seasonal Springfield tradition. But a true parable is more than niceties.
Parables question our assumptions, interrogate intentions, challenge our worldview. With that in mind, what happens if we look around the market and ask who isn’t there, and why?
For starters, as valuable as it is for the vendors to make a fair wage from their hard work, the truth is, not everyone can afford to shop at the market. I make occasional purchases, feel great about doing so, and relish the meals I make with locally grown produce. If I could afford it, I’d complete my entire shopping list there every week. In truth, though, most of the produce in our fridge comes from a local discount store, where we purchase substandard veggies that are subsidized by underpaid labor and carry a heavy carbon footprint. What would it mean to get serious about purchasing only local products? Am I ready to abandon up my chip habit for that? Should I do so to help create a more equitable system?
I’m aware of and deeply grateful for the collaboration between the Area Agency on Aging, the Illinois Department on Aging and the Illinois Department of Human Services which provides monthly coupons so low-income seniors can make purchases at the market through the Senior Farmers Market Nutrition Program. That’s a win-win for the seniors, the farmers, our entire community. I suspect it goes a long way to improving food security, but that doesn’t mean the market is perfect symbol of inclusivity. There are many people who can’t afford to shop there, or who might feel uncomfortable just being there.
This is not to disparage the market. If we are using it as a parable, then we need to ask why. Why is the market unaffordable? Why are not all people comfortable going there? The market parable helps us see what might otherwise be invisible. Just two examples: I see a broken food system that weakens the human community, decreases the nutritional value of what we eat, and damages Earth with monocultural mega farms. And I see a social and economic divide that doesn’t notice who is missing, or wonder why.
Good parables raise more questions than answers. By that measure, the farmers market makes a great parable. It reminds us to dig deep the next time we hear a Gospel proclamation that starts “Jesus told another parable.”
Dominican Sister Beth Murphy is the international columns editor for Global Sisters Report, an online publication of National Catholic Reporter, an independent source for Catholic news.
This article appears in November 5-11, 2026.
