Matthew 13: 1–9, 18–23
Isaiah 55: 10–13
|
|
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your Name. Amen.
|
|
When we hear the opening words of this parable, “A sower went
out to sow,” already some of us are ready to raise our hands,
hoping the teacher will call on us, because we know this
parable. We know its application too, because it’s
written right here. We know it all. So, with our hands
high in the air, we’re saying, “Oh! Call
on me! I know this one.”
|
|
What we’ve all heard is that this is a parable about a foolish
farmer who scattered the precious seed he was planting so lavishly, so
indiscriminately – that three quarters of that seed failed to
take root and flourish. Some of it landed on the hard ground of
the path, some on rocky soil, and yet more among thorns and briars
that eventually choked out the good seed’s growth. Only
a quarter of that seed finally fell on well–tilled soil that
allowed the young plants to grow and thrive.
|
|
So, most often, sermons on this parable warn us to examine ourselves
to see what kind of soil we are providing for the good seed God
wants to plant in us. Are we hard soil — too hard for the
Word of God to penetrate? Or are we shallow soil, with no
room for deep roots? Or maybe we are rocky soil, with so
many worldly goods we don’t have room for anything
else. The point is that we’re supposed to be good, arable
soil that will allow the seed – which is the Word of God — to
flourish and produce a rich harvest.
|
|
But parables are tricky things. One minute we’re sure a
parable means one thing. And the next it seems to be pointing
in another direction entirely. And this week I began to wonder
why, in this parable, the soil itself is held responsible for the
eventual success of the seed. Isn’t that the responsibility
of the farmer? And isn’t this also about the
generosity of that farmer – who scattered the seed so
liberally, so extravagantly he eventually did get a huge
harvest, even if it was from just one part of his land?
|
|
The more I thought about that this week, the more I realized.
“Huh! This is the way our God does things, all the way
through his Creation. He keeps casting that seed around
us — generously, extravagantly — even when it seems we
aren’t doing a thing with it.”
|
|
Maybe it’s like a detour I took recently on my way home to
Madison. Instead of staying on 441, I took a more scenic
route. And was amazed to see so many wildflowers in the fields
and along the edges of the road – tiger lilies and daisies,
chicory and Indian Paintbrush, Queen Anne’s Lace and trumpet
vine. No one carefully plans where to plant those wildflowers,
and no one carefully tends them either. But by God’s grace
they thrive anyway – and we all enjoy their tough, wiry beauty
in whatever difficult place they’ve sprung up – places
that seem inhospitable to anything but weeds. They thrive even
in the ditches along the highway – despite cars and trucks
breezing by, spewing exhaust fumes. And you never know exactly
where you will encounter them.
|
|
They’re gifts, in other words, given generously, lavishly –
whether people notice them or not. Because God is not a stingy
giver – neither with the fruits of the earth nor with his Word,
which we catch in snatches, here and there. Liberally,
extravagantly he showers us with these gifts of grace and mercy and
love – not just on those who receive his gifts gratefully, but
on everyone – for all to enjoy.
|
|
And Jesus did the same thing, scattering seeds of mercy, grace and
love even among those who sneered at his words, doubted his authority,
questioned his sanity. His disciples wondered why he was doing
this, why he even bothered. So, Jesus told them the parable of
the sower to help them understand something about the generosity of
God and the enduring character of his Word.
|
|
It reminds me of a time — years ago, in Madison – when a
group of us were trying to establish a new Boys and Girls Club for
disadvantaged kids. I had been urging my parishioners to
volunteer at the new club, but while I waited for them to come
forward, I thought, “Well, I can read to these kids — as
well as they can.” So, I volunteered to read to the eight
and nine–year–olds each Wednesday morning.
|
|
But it was harder than I’d thought it would be. One week
I tried to read them a book about the seashore – only to realize,
15 minutes later, that these kids had never been to the
seashore. And they could hardly delight in something they’d
never seen. Another week, I struck out again when I read them a
book about kids at a summer soccer camp. These kids didn’t
play soccer, because their parents had no way of getting them to all
those practices. I began to think that trying to read to these
children wasn’t such a good idea. For these kids, I knew,
had seldom been read to, if ever. The fault wasn’t mine, I
thought. The fault lay in soil that had never been tilled, never
been prepared.
|
|
Even so, the next Wednesday morning, though I hardly felt hopeful, I
grabbed a couple of books my own kids had enjoyed – each one an
illustrated re–telling, in children’s terms, of one of
the Psalms. And to my amazement, the kids at the Boys and Girls
Club seemed to enjoy these books. In fact, it was the paraphrase
of Psalm 19, that says we can find God everywhere, that seemed to
really grab their attention. In the book, a little girl
is ‘hearing’ God tell her how much He loves her, as she
looks at the beauty of the created world around her. Wondering
if the children I was reading to that morning were really understanding
this idea, I quit reading for a moment and said,
|
|
“Turn around, please, and look out there.” Pointing
out through the wide windows of the Middle School cafeteria, I
asked, “What do you see outside those windows?” All
the children turned to look. “Trees,” they reported
in unison.
|
|
“Is God talking to you as you look at those
treesa?” I asked them. And, to my amazement they all
answered, “Yeah! He’s talking to us all the
time.” It wasn’t just one child who said that. It
was all of them, suddenly united and enthusiastic in an
experience they’d all known.
|
|
Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. It was
like coming on a clump of bright blue chicory in the middle of an
otherwise empty field or finding a stand of tiger lilies on the side of
the highway. Unexpected. Untended. But absolutely
beautiful. God had gotten to that not–very– promising
field ahead of me and had been sowing good seed all over the
place — seed that was now rooted and thriving and
blooming. Never mind ’ that to my way of seeing
things — the soil hadn’t looked very
promising. God had sown the good seed of his Word there
anyway — good seed that had taken root and grown – and
now was blooming, profusely.
|
|
So, this wasn’t, finally, a question about the quality of
the soil, about whether these children were good enough, ready
for God the Generous Farmer to invest time and effort in them. It
was more about the goodness of God himself – who made us all,
loves us all and is aways talking to us – speaking his good Word
into our lives. And now his Word had accomplished that which
he had sent it out to do.
|
|
And I was the one who needed to learn something.
|
Amen.
|
