Pentecost + 5 - July 13, 2014
This is my family’s second summer living in our current
home. Last summer, we had a baby and a 2 year old, so we were too busy to worry
much about planting a garden, and come this summer, we still hadn't figured out
where the best place for a garden would be, so we’re content to have a few
tomato plants and some herbs planted in pots. But when the time comes next
year, I think we've finally made up our minds. We’ll dig up the soil where
there’s plenty of sun and good drainage. While we’re turning the dirt, we’ll
set aside the rocks, and add in some of the compost we've been working on.
We’ll probably put down some kind of weed barrier, and we’ll plan out our
garden – what kinds of vegetables, where to put each one. We’re not gardening
experts, so we’ll pay attention to the instructions on the back of the seed
packet, making sure we plant the seeds at the right depth and the right
distance apart and next to other kinds of plants that are compatible to them
all growing well together, all to help make sure that we’ll have a good harvest
at the end of summer.
My daughter doesn't get this whole process though. Norah
is 3.5, and she doesn't get that there needs to be an order and a method to
planting. Someone gave us some packets of seeds this spring, and all she wanted
to do was dump the seeds out in her hand and go toss them on the dirt, in the
lawn, in the rocks alongside the driveway, which I noticed this morning we need
to weed again - soon. If it were up to her, she’d mix them all together, stick
her hand down in the pile of seeds and just spread them to the four winds,
letting them land wherever they land, not worrying about how many seeds would
go to waste that way.
Norah is like the sower Jesus talks about in this parable
we heard today. Usually when we read this parable in church, we focus on the
four different kinds of soil that Jesus talks about: the path, where the evil
one comes and snatches the word away; the rocky ground where the seed springs
up quickly, but withers away just as fast when trouble comes; the thorny
ground, where the word of the kingdom begins to grow, but then gets choked out
of existence by the cares and seductiveness of the world around us; and then
finally, the good soil, that produces this amazingly, unexpectedly bountiful
harvest, way more than you would ever dream of getting. And we spend a lot of
time wondering about what kind of soil we are or ought to be – and there’s some
good thinking and reflecting and discussing to be had there.
But this time around, I was struck by what Jesus calls
this teaching. When he is alone with the disciples, explaining what the parable
means, he doesn't call it the parable of the four soils. He doesn't call it the
parable of the seed. He calls it the parable of the sower. Though he spends
most of his time talking about the kinds of soil, it seems to me that we should
spend some time thinking about the sower in this story and looking at what the
sower does.
And what the sower does is plant seeds like my
preschooler would. He doesn't seem very wise. He doesn't act like he knows much
about farming. He’s downright reckless with the seed he has. He’s wasteful. He
just reaches his hand in that ol’ bag of seed slung over his shoulder, grabs a
handful, and then tosses it every which way, in every conceivable direction. He
doesn't look at the instructions on the back of the packet. He doesn't
carefully drop one seed every few inches into neatly hoed rows that he measured
out beforehand for optimal growing space. No, this sower just spreads the seed
around everywhere. Generously. Plentifully. Lavishly. With an open hand, sowing
seed with abandon.
It’s not what we would expect. It seems like such a risk
to pay no attention to the kind of soil the seed will land on. It’s taking a
big chance with the limited resources the sower has – because if the harvest
fails, what will you do next year? If the harvest doesn't produce enough to eat
and then some, how will you have any seeds to plant next year?
This fear of scarcity is only too familiar to us. We are
a result-driven kind of people. We want to be able to predict and control the
outcome of our hard work. We want to ensure a future where there is enough, and
so we carefully plot out our gardens. We are timid with our seed spreading. We
plant only where we think there will be an acceptable return on our investment
of time and money and effort.
And just in case you've kind of gotten wrapped up in this
gardening metaphor at a literal level, remember that the seed Jesus is talking
about is the word of the kingdom. It’s the good news about what God is doing,
about the ways that God is breaking into the world, shining light into dark
places, replacing fear with faith, transforming anger into forgiveness,
bringing hope instead of despair, raising life out of death. This is the seed
of love that Jesus has been busy sowing since the beginning of his ministry –
and he is holding nothing back. There are many people around Jesus, watching
him at work, seeing him reach out to tax collectors and prostitutes and
sinners, healing on the sabbath – and they think he’s wasting his time, that he
shouldn't be sowing the seeds of God’s love into the lives of people they judge
to be the hard path or the rocky soil or the thorny patch.
And we too, can be quick to judge others and the quality
of the soil of their lives and think that it would be better not to waste our
time reaching out, sharing this good news, sowing the word of the kingdom
there, so instead we stand, tight-fisted, afraid of being too extravagant,
doling out one seed at a time, instead of embracing the joy that comes with
scattering the seeds of God’s love with wild abandon, trusting, like Isaiah
says, that God’s word will not return empty, but will accomplish that which God
purposes and succeed in the thing for which God sent it.
That’s the thing – the world around us – and within us – is made up of all of these
kinds of soil; and sometimes we think we know best where God’s word should be
shared. But this parable of the sower invites us to think differently. To live
boldly. To grab a fistful of seeds and fling them widely, wildly, freely,
trusting that God is at work in all of those soils, turning the compacted path,
picking out the rocks, weeding out the thorns, carefully tending to the gardens
of our hearts, preparing the soil with love, making us ready to receive God’s
word and grow in ways and places that are beyond our imagination. Our job is to
follow along Jesus as apprentice seed sowers, sharing the word of God’s kingdom
without reserve, sowing the seeds of God’s love with all we meet. God will take
care of the harvest – bringing forth an abundant crop that defies expectation,
one that will feed the whole world. Let’s get to work!
Amen.
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