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Matthew 13: 1–9, 18–23
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Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in Your name. Amen.
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Parables, especially the parables Jesus told, are slippery things.
You have no sooner decided you know what one of those parables means –
and whom it’s aimed at – then the meaning shifts – and you
yourself become its target. Something like that happened to me this week
as I read and re–read the parable Jesus told that begins,
“A sower went out to sow.”
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At first, I thought I understood the point of this parable. I had heard
its interpretation in dozens of sermons – and so have you. Jesus
tells the story of a sower of seeds who broadcasts that seed all over
the place – on hard-packed paths, in weed–choked ditches –
and also in well–prepared ground. Not surprisingly, the seed germinates
best in the prepared field. On the hard–packed paths it sits on top
of the soil – becoming a crunchy treat for hungry birds. In the
weedy ditch it germinates just fine – but its roots find too much
competition from all the other plants – and eventually it’s
choked out. And in shallow, rocky soil in summer’s heat the young
plants quickly wilt. Their roots need more depth of soil to survive.
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But, of course, the seed is not just seed and the soil is not just soil.
Jesus himself interprets the parable as a commentary on the way the Word
of God is received by different individuals. Some people, he says, are
so hard packed, so opinionated that nothing and no one makes an impression
on them. And before anything can change that situation the Enemy comes
along like some ravenous bird and snatches the life–saving seed away.
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Other people, he says, seem to receive the Word at greater depth. After
they first hear it, they come to church –– for a while,
anyway –– every time the doors open. But if they have no depth
in themselves the Word can’t take root as deeply as it needs to.
So if work beckons . . . or the kids’
soccer schedule changes . . . or they just
aren’t feeling up to it that day – all of a sudden these
people disappear.
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But now and then the seed falls on well–tilled soil. Its roots sink
deep into the crevices of the earth and the plant not only thrives – it
begins to produce fruit – fruit like love, joy, peace or patience.
This is the kind of yield we all hope for – in ourselves and in
people around us. It’s the sure sign that Jesus’ words have
taken root within and are thriving. But these gratifying results are
scarcely guaranteed. Even Jesus was getting less yield for all his effort
than he had hoped. He was preaching his heart out in city after city –
but still, only a handful of disciples followed after him.
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It was when I realized this that I began to wonder if I’d understood
this parable at all. If Jesus himself was reaching only a few people deeply
and effectively – then how could I preach to you about becoming
fertile soil for the Word of God and expect any different results? Maybe
I was the one who was missing the point.
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So I went back and read that parable over again. There was the seed –
the Word of God. Surely there was nothing wrong with the seed. God himself
says in Isaiah, “My Word shall not return to me void. It will
accomplish all I set out for it to do.”
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Then there was the ground meant to receive that seed – people like
you and me. But I couldn’t bring myself to stand up here this morning
and say critical things about one type of soil or another. For I know
myself. One minute I’m hard ground. Maybe I’m not paying
attention. Or maybe I simply don’t get it. But the next minute
something has shifted. Something has changed in my life and I suddenly
understand that this Word applies to me; it applies to my life. Then,
suddenly, I am receptive – and so are you – because the ground
has shifted; it has changed and opened up.
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So, finally, I decided that this parable wasn’t about the seed or about
the ground – so much as it was about the Sower. For that, in fact,
is how Jesus begins his story: “A sower went out to sow.”
The seed he was scattering was good seed. It was the ground that was
variable. But the Sower was the one who had faith in them both. That
was why he could broadcast the seed seemingly indiscriminately – one
moment on a hard–packed path and the next on a carefully
turned–over field – because he is the Lord of the seed
and the soil, and he knows how to treat them both. He knows how to break
up fallow ground. He knows how to send mercies of sunshine and rain.
And then he knows how to be patient as he waits for the results.
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And that, of course, was why Jesus was preaching to people whom others
deemed unworthy of his time and effort – to tax collectors and women
with checkered pasts; to the sick and the ritually unclean; to
Gentiles and Pharisees; to well–educated scribes and unlettered
fishermen – because the Sower knows how to break up hard–packed
earth, and turn it into good soil that has cracks and ridges where seed
can drop down and take root. By his mercy and love – in his own good
time – they did indeed bear much good fruit.
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For that’s the last element of the story – the time it takes
some seeds and fields to produce a good harvest. And when I thought of
that I remembered the story of a couple who retired a few years ago to
the Midwest. She had grown up on those wide open prairies and remembered
them fondly. So he decided to give it a try. They bought a little house
out in the country on several acres of land and decided to plant those
acres with native grasses and wild flowers – so their new home could
literally be a little house on the prairie. Then they waited for their
little patch of prairie to bloom.
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The first spring and summer the only crop they seemed to get was weeds.
So they seeded the fields again, figuring they must have done something
wrong. The second year they got a few wildflowers – but that was
about it. Finally, when they were just about to give up on the whole
effort they met a local gardener who had much more experience with the
native grasses and wildflowers. And she told them they would simply have
to be patient – because it would take at least three years before
they could expect the kind of results they were looking for.
“Three years!”
they said. “Why? Why so long?”
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The woman explained to them that the seeds they had planted were busy
growing downwards – building a massive root system that could carry
those plants through the long dry spells that lay ahead in a typical
Midwestern summer. Those deeper roots would eventually give the prairie
plants the strength they needed to outlast all the fast–growing
weeds that had sprung up first.
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I think of that story now as I watch my grown children deal with the
hurdles and rough patches life has thrown their way during this pandemic.
As they were growing up, I tried to plant in them every good practice,
every good seed I could think of. Then I watched them choose their own
life partners, start their own careers and begin to raise their own
children. Sometimes, as I’ve watched them from a distance, I saw
them do things differently from the way I did. And I wondered if any
of the seeds I’d planted were ever going to take root and thrive.
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But as I see them now – dealing gently and lovingly with their own
children – despite the demands this pandemic has placed on
us –– of home schooling, on–line learning or working
from home – I’ve finally realized something. The Sower of Seeds
is at it again – causing seeds to flourish and grow even in
unlikely soil.
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And I have no doubt that in His time – these gardens too will bloom
in ways I never expected.
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Amen
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