Scripture Matthew 13:1-9
That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!”
Meditation
The kingdom of heaven is like a preacher who gets into a boat, and pulls away from the shore.
Jesus begins telling stories this morning. Parables. This week in our bible study, a footnote gave us as good a definition of a parable as any I’ve heard:
“Parables are brief comparison stories, drawn from nature or everyday life, that tease the imagination, challenge accepted values, or illustrate a point.” (The HarperCollins Study Bible)
Today, Jesus draws from both nature and everyday life, talking about something every listener of his will have at least some experience of: planting. Planting seeds, in hopes it will grow.
A sower—let’s say, a farmer—wants to plant some crops. But what a haphazard sower he turns out to be! Instead of carefully casting the seed into the furrows he has presumably plowed, he sends them flying in every direction: Onto a footpath. Into a bed of rocks. Among thornbushes. And, thank goodness—thank the sower!— into good soil. It all makes me wonder: Was this a common occurrence? Did those who plant grain regularly have such accidents with their seeds? My limited experience poking holes in the ground for my morning glories doesn’t give me much insight.
The kingdom of heaven is like seeds thrown around, wildly, extravagantly, indiscriminately!
Jesus tells us, in each instance, what happens to the seeds. In order;
they’re gobbled up by birds;
they grow fast and then burn up quick;
they are choked to death;
and, finally, they grow, and the harvest is abundant.
So, what is Jesus saying to this crowd that has gathered by the seashore to hear him preaching from a boat? There are so many possibilities.
God may be trying to plant something in you.
Other forces may snatch it away.
It may begin to grow, but be scorched by the challenges of life.
It may try to grow, but be choked, lifeless.
Or, it may grow.
You may be trying to plant something in the world.
See above: circumstances, people, places may intervene, interfere, spoil. Or, it may grow.
Or—I wonder—could Jesus be saying, Don’t be afraid to cast your seed widely, even in what seem like unlikely places for growth? Now, this may be Definitely Not a Farmer Preacher Pat speaking, but, do we always know with certainty what good soil looks like?
I was thinking this week of all the different kinds of soil and how one type of soil gives us wheat or corn, and a very different kind gives us coconuts and pineapples, and still a different kind gives us roses. And—do we always know? I know that I don’t know. I was thinking these thoughts while I was taking pictures of morning glories, in all their stages. And as I was thinking, a neighbor walked by with her dog, and said, “Are those morning glories?” And I said, “They are! Look-! Here’s my first blossom of the year!”
She told me that she’d been trying to grow morning glories in her yard for years, but the seeds never came up. So, I pulled a small but hardy seedling from the ground, and she carefully placed it in a plastic bag she happened to have with her, and went on her way.
She lives on the next block. Does that mean the soil is different there? I have no idea. I hope the seedling takes hold.
The kingdom of heaven is like a beautiful flower, hidden in a seedling.
I’ve just finished Eboo Patel’s book—the one we’re reading for our Book Group: Acts of Faith: The Story of an American Muslim, the Struggle for the Soul of a Generation. Patel begins the book with two stories. The first is about Eric Rudolph. You may remember him as the man who bombed Olympic Park in Atlanta in 1996. Born in Florida, and raised in North Carolina and Missouri, Rudolph committed a series of bombings across the southern United States between 1996 and 1998, resulting in three deaths and more than 150 people injured. His motivation was a definition of Christianity that includes denial of the Holocaust and anti-abortion and anti-LGBTQ terrorist actions, all in the name of a Jesus who supposedly approves of White Supremacy.
The second story was about a group of overwhelmingly white and Christian middle school students in Whitwell, Tennessee. They learned about the Holocaust in school, and were so moved by the terrible history, they sprang into action. They decided they needed to take responsibility for educating their community about it. Somehow, they managed to acquire a German railcar that was used to transport Jews to Auschwitz. They used it to create a Holocaust memorial in their small town in mining country. The students give tours of the car; they ask their guests to imagine how it felt to be packed into the cars, seventy or eighty at a time, literally on a track towards torture and death. The railcar is filled with millions of paper clips, each one representing a Jew murdered by the Nazis. The author writes:
The sign at the entrance of the memorial reads: “We ask you to pause and reflect on the evil of intolerance and hatred.” The sign on the way out states: “What can I do to spread the message of love and tolerance these children have demonstrated with this memorial?”
The kingdom of heaven is like small-town kids weeping for children they’ve never met.
And so we come to another complication in the parable of sowing seeds: How do young people—Christian, American—come to such vastly opposing conclusions about what their faith leads them to believe and to do? Is this a parable of good and bad soil? Or of good and bad seeds? Or is it a parable of how the soil is nourished after the seeds have begun to grow?
Here’s what I know: the seeds of Christianity—the seeds of our faith—can indeed blossom into lives of joy and service, hope and kindness. But they can also produce lives of anger and violence. Is it the seeds themselves, or is it how they are tended or neglected, nurtured or misshapen, prudently pruned or carelessly carved up?
A clue as to whether the growing seedling is truly from God: it grows into something good, something wholesome, something nourishing, beyond the life of the one in whom it grows. In our parable, the seed brings forth grain, and—gluten issues notwithstanding—bread remains, throughout the world, a basic, a staple, food for the hungry, the staff of life.
The kingdom of heaven is like a story that leaves us with more questions than answers.
Later on in this chapter of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus offers an explanation of the parable to his disciples, a pretty specific one. But for the vast majority of the people—for the great crowds who follow him to the beach and listen as his voice comes to them across the waters—Jesus tells the story, and allows it to work on them.
The kingdom of God is like a story that teases the imagination, challenges accepted values, or points beyond itself, into the depths of the soul and the heights of heaven. Thanks be to God. Amen.