Changing the Metaphor

At the risk of fanning the flames of online outrage, let me draw your attention to a recent post by Elon Musk, the world’s wealthiest person. Faced with skepticism about a multibillion-dollar partnership between Musk’s company, SpaceX, and the AI giant, Anthropic, Musk stated: “You don’t seem to understand that SpaceX will be worth more than the rest of Earth if we accomplish our goals.”[1]

Wild speculation from a tech celebrity is not new, but in this case I was intrigued to see how Musk’s post prompted a discussion about the measurement of value. One popular social media handle replied: “Sorry dude, one flower gently swaying in the breeze is worth more than 10,000 SpaceXs.”[2] The idea that any private entity could be “worth more than the rest of Earth” is outlandish, unless worth is defined in strictly economic terms. The aforementioned rebuttal sought to paint Musk as narrow-mindedly materialistic, “a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing,” to quote Oscar Wilde.

But I hesitate to scapegoat Elon Musk too quickly. There is a deeply ingrained logic, especially in the global North and West, that bigger is in fact better, that wealth and power are indeed the best measures of value.

In his new book Crisis of the Common Good, U.S. Senator Chris Murphy describes the corrosive effect of this logic:

[excerpt from pp. 214-15]

For Senator Murphy, this is more than an economic and political crisis; it’s a spiritual one. As wealth becomes more predictably entwined with political power, ordinary people become more disaffected, withdrawn, hopeless.

Is it all inevitable?

“If you want to change the world,” Joseph Campbell said, “change the metaphor.” Of course, that’s what Jesus does in today’s Gospel in his parables of the reign of God on Earth as in heaven. If he were to abide by worldly standards, we might expect Jesus to describe God’s realm with images of greatness and glory:

The kingdom of heaven is like a mature cedar, tall and strong, perfect for fashioning a battering ram to splinter the doors of enemy fortresses.

The kingdom of heaven is like an exclusive dinner party, teeming with honored guests and abounding in lavish food and drink.

The kingdom of heaven is like a vault of jewels filled to the brim, waiting to be raided by the most audacious of treasure hunters.

The kingdom of heaven is like all the best of everything all the time; for so it will be at the end, that the one who dies with the most wins.

If all of that sounds absurd, it’s because we rightly expect Jesus to turn the way of the world on its head. The reign of God is not like a cedar tree, he contends, but a mustard seed; not like a five-star meal, but bread dough; not like a treasure trove, but a single pearl; not like material excess, but a good catch of fish after a hard day’s work. In other words, Jesus changes the metaphor– from domination to provision, from luxury to simplicity, from greatness to goodness.

“This dominion of God,” writes Gordon Lathrop, “is not what had been expected….” It is, however, what we have needed. The images of daily life in Jesus’ parables are, of course, more than meets the eye. If God’s reign is not what we expected, nevertheless it “comes with radical grace,”[3] giving refuge to the weary, nourishment to the hungry, the hope of new possibilities in seemingly hopeless circumstances. That is to say, Jesus’ teaching is itself a treasure, the gift of God’s wisdom to enlighten and uphold us, especially when we are discouraged.

That’s why we attend more closely to Christ than we do other authorities– economic, political, or otherwise. That’s why we listen more intently to the parables of Jesus than to the bluster of barons. That’s why we trust more deeply in the promise of God’s peaceable kingdom than all the other kingdoms of the world.

[1] finance.yahoo.com/technology/articles/elon-musk-says-spacex-accomplishes-150002883.html.

[2] Give A Shift About Nature, Facebook, July 12, 2026.

[3] Sundays and Seasons Day Resources for July 26^th, 2026.