Boggarts
THE NINTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST
Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52
Somewhere in Scotland there is a castle. This castle is unique in that it functions as a school. But not just any school, a school of witchcraft and wizardry: Hogwarts. If we were there now, we would travel through the great hall to the classrooms. We would walk past portraits whose subjects are moving and conversing with one another. We would ignore the portion of wall pretending to be a door. We would say hello to a ghost and avoid the poltergeist throwing ink bottles at the janitor. We would climb moving stair cases and jump over trick stairs. We would finally arrive to the staff room. In that staffroom we would see a room “full of old, mismatched chairs.” At the end of this long, paneled room is a wardrobe wobbling and banging off the wall. We would soon discover that the wardrobe is currently home to a boggart.
If we time our entry correctly we might hear a shabby looking Professor Lupin explaining that “Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gaps beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks”—sometimes they are even “in grandfather clocks.” We will quickly learn, with the help of Hermione—a powerful, intelligent, loyal, young witch—that boggarts are shape-shifters that can take the shape of “whatever it thinks will frighten us most.” According to Professor Lupin, “Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when [they are] alone.”
What we do know about boggarts is that they can only take the form of one fear at a time. When there are more than one person with multiple phobias, the group has the advantage, and the boggart will not know what shape it should become. It doesn’t know, for example, whether or not to become “a headless corpse or a flesh eating slug.” Perhaps it may become “half of a slug.” The trick to finishing off a boggart is laughter, or forcing “it. To assume a shape that you find amusing.” When you have imagined something amusing you cast the spell “Riddikulus.”
The boggart becomes a blood stained mummy.
Riddikulus!
The mummy trips over its feet.
The boggart becomes a banshee about to shriek.
Riddikulus!
The banshee starts coughing and croaking.
The bogart becomes a giant rat.
Riddikulus!
The giant rat chases its tail.
The boggart becomes rattlesnake.
Riddikulus!
The rattlesnake turns into an eyeball?
The boggart is starting to get confused.
The boggart becomes a withered hand.
Riddikulus!
The withered hand gets trapped in a mousetrap.
The boggart becomes a spider.
Riddikulus!
It becomes a hand connected to eight other hands
And the boggart vanishes.
Today’s lessons invite us to face our own boggarts.
Jesus has brought the crowds six new parables about the kingdom of God.
In the first parable, Jesus compares the kingdom of God to a mustard seed. The smallest of seeds. When it grows it becomes the largest of trees.
In the second parable, Jesus compares the kingdom of God to a time when a woman took a small amount of yeast and added it to a large amount amount of flour and the result was an astronomical amount of leavening.
In the third parable, Jesus compares the Kingdom of God to someone who finds treasure in a field, and sells everything they own and buys this field.
In the fourth parable, Jesus compares the Kingdom of God to a time when a merchant was trying to find pearls but found one pearl that was greater than any other pearl, so he sold everything he owned to buy it.
In the fifth parable, Jesus compares the Kingdom of God to a person who pulled up a net full of fish and sat on the beach to separate the fish.
Finally, In the sixth parable, Jesus compares the Kingdom of God to a merchant who brings out all their treasure.
On the surface these parables seem easy, but boggarts are often the best deceivers.
In the region Jesus was telling these parables, the type of mustard seed he was talking about grew into bushes not trees. Something small grows into something impossible. Perhaps this indicates form of imposter syndrome. Our boggart becomes an animated blue bird and…
Riddikulus!
…transforms into a letter X.
The woman in today’s Gospel puts a small amount of yeast into the equivalent of 60 pounds of flour. Perhaps this fear comes from the fear of being unprepared. Our boggart turns into bathroom with “out an order” sign on the door and…
Riddikulus!
…transforms into an overnight bag stuffed with underwear!
In today’s time we might want to be clear that when we buy a piece of property we own what’s in it. This same debate is what occurred during the time of Jesus. Either the landlord is being crafty or the purchaser is. Either way they both seem to fear being taken advantage of. Our boggart turns into a marionette puppet and…
Riddikulus!
…transforms into a famous New York politician using a sock puppet to announce their run for presidency.
Amy Jill-Levine, a Jewish New Testament scholar and friend to the Episcopal Church reminds us in her commentary of the Gospel of Matthew that, the fishermen in the parable are following kosher. What is wrong with separating bad fish from good fish? Wheat from wheat look-alikes? Poison ivy from peace lilies? Our boggart becomes a pile of fish and…
Riddikulus!
…transforms into a two-headed fish with a catfish wearing a top hat on one side and a salmon wearing a revealing dress from Gucci on the other.
The boggart is getting confused!
Why would you show both what is valuable and what is cheap? Why would you show your guests both the new things you and old things? Isn’t that prideful? Isn’t that risky? Isn’t that foolish? Our boggart turns into broken clock and…
Riddikulus!
A millennial who is trying to figure out a rotary phone with instructions written in cursive!
The boggart is gone. But unfortunately our fears stay.
Perhaps, like me, you sometimes have a small amount faith, and you hope that someday it will be big enough so that people will not see your doubt.
Maybe there is place where mustard seeds grow into a trees instead of bushes.
Or perhaps we do something small and hope that it will result in an infinite amount of good,
Maybe there is a place where a sixty pound bag of flour can be leavened with a half-teaspoon of yeast.
Some of us may have found the perfect branch of Christianity or what seems to be the perfect religion after spending a lifetime searching for something better.
Maybe there is a a jar somewhere full of marbles with the purest of pearls at the bottom.
Some of us may been raised in a dog-eat-dog world, and learned to manipulate others before others manipulated us.
Maybe there is a treasure in a field somewhere that is longing for our skills to be used.
Some of us may have been in situations where a single mistake could be detrimental, so we became obsessed with clarity.
Maybe there is a place where we can clearly separate two heaping piles of fish with good and bad clearly separated from one another without causing inequalities.
Some of us may have been born into poverty and have learned to accept all of the memories—both positive and negative. So we tell our story over and over, not caring what others think about us.
Maybe there’s a room brimming with old Tupperware and the shiniest of silver chalices!
Banishing Boggarts is a lot of work!
It requires company. Or community.
It requires each person to know what they fear the most, what makes them laugh, the willingness and courage to face your fears, and the eagerness and openness to work together.
You might say boggart-hunting is paradoxical work. Keeping two opposite thoughts in your head, being both individual work and communal work and being with people who no have different fears and different senses of humor.
Perhaps there is a place where deceivers are with the deceived, where those who are manipulated can be with those who have been manipulated, where those who are privileged can be with those who have had to result to desperate measures.
Perhaps there is a place where those who were enslaved can be with those who enslaved them.
Perhaps there is a place where republicans and democrats, socialists and capitalists, gun-toters and tree-huggers can live together.
Perhaps there is a place where the fears of those who are pro-life and the fears of those who are pro-choice can inform one another.
Perhaps there is a place where boundaries can be established and respected and walls can be torn down and abandoned.
Perhaps there is a place where Protestants and Catholics (and Anglicans/Episcopalians) can be together. Perhaps there is a bar where a Rabbi, an Imam, and a Priest can be themselves.
No matter which fears stay and leave, no matter what we discover about ourselves, no matter where that place is (either in this world or the world to come), God, the kingdom of God—the family of God—is already there.
Most of these descriptions are directly pulled from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
© 2023 The Rev. Casey Anderson-Molina
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church – Fayetteville, Arkansas