The Psalm: 65:1-14
The Second Lesson: Romans 8:1-11
The Gospel: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
The Sermon
The
parable we heard today, that of “the good sower,” is one of only
two which Jesus explains. (See note under Sources below)
The sower is none other than God; the seeds are faith; the soil is
humanity. You might think this would make the preacher's work easier.
Not so. Despite this explanation, I still have questions. A
traditional reading of this Gospel would focus on us as the soil, and
what we might do to become better soil. I don't think comparing
people to soil is a bad metaphor. Though there are things which can
be done to improve the soil – to make it healthier and richer –
the soil is never perfect. The same can be said for every human being
throughout history. We all strive and we all struggle. It is true
that our choices and our striving matters. I find these truisms to be
reassuring. I like having choices, and the ability to know I can
influence things, even if I can't control them. I want to strive to
be better soil. It's in my power to do so, however imperfect my
efforts might be. Despite this reassurance, I still have lingering
questions. I understand what this parable says about us. What I don't
understand it what this parable says about God. If God is infinitely
powerful, working anywhere and everywhere and at all times, why does
the seed God spreads sometimes fail? Shouldn't it flourish wherever
it lands, bloom wherever it's planted? And yet – it doesn't.
Instead, the seeds of faith fail to thrive. It's the exact opposite
of today's words from Isaiah. To paraphrase: My word will not return
to me empty. Ever. It accomplishes my purposes. Always. If God's
words in Isaiah are true, what are we to make of this contradictory
parable? Should it be dismissed as simply that – a contradiction?
Or could it be that God is up to something we can't understand,
perhaps something unexpected?
You
may know that I just returned to Sioux Falls after spending three
years attending a seminary on the east coast. Virginia Theological
Seminary is located just across the Potomac river from Washington,
DC. I did my growing up here, in South Dakota. I went only as far as
Minnesota for college. You are probably aware that there are a lot
more people living on the eastern seaboard of the U.S. than here, and
in a lot less space. So, when I visited the seminary for the first
time, I expected to see miles of concrete and steel. After growing up
on the vast expanse of the prairie, I didn't think it was possible
for that many people could fit in such a small space any other way. I
was surprised to learn the reality was quite different. The seminary
and the surrounding neighborhood were not only lined with huge
majestic trees but bordered with patches of forest. The seminary
itself sits on eighty acres of land and is made up of extensive, rich
green space. There's so much space that the daycare kids go for a
walk while holding onto the “class string,” all without leaving
the seminary campus. The seminary's flag football team had its own
designated playing field. So, that was my first surprise: all of the
open space and all of the green.
The next surprise wasn't about the land, but did come from it. One of my classmates, Robin, has a degree in viniculture and, in addition to loving God and having a deep desire to serve the church, is passionate about gardening. (You did hear me correctly. Soon, Robin will be a priest who knows how to make wine from grape seeds!) Now, I've painted a very green picture of the campus. However, like much of Virginia, the soil itself was over-cultivated over more than four centuries of use and was not particularly fertile. Despite the clay-like, shallow soil found in many parts of the seminary's campus, Robin determined we would have a campus gardening club. Though I was interested in supporting her work and enjoyed being outside and gardening myself, I admit I was skeptical. How could this dense clay possibly be transformed into productive soil? But under Robin's leadership, transform it we did.
Every
day, the campus community gathers at the Welcome Center for free
coffee – and we need a lot of it to get through seminary! The used
grinds became fertilizer for the labyrinth-shaped garden. I expected
to do many different and new things while at seminary; hauling large
buckets of used coffee grinds was not among them! I thought this was
a strange choice of fertilizer. Our efforts, however, paid off when
the garden bore fruit (or rather, in our case, vegetables). The
location selected for the new wheat garden consisted of thin soil
atop of infertile and impenetrable clay. Again, I was skeptical; this
did not look like a promising space for a healthy garden. But
following many tractor-loads from the seminary's mulch pile, season
by season that very space transformed discarded leaves into
progressively richer soil. The most surprising space was, for me, yet
to come. Because all of the full-time faculty live on campus, we made
use of a faculty member's lawn. This particular section of lawn had
no dirt to speak of; it was made of clay dotted with hearty grass.
This appeared as unlikely a place as the other two, but this time, I
was less skeptical. Here, instead of making our own dirt, as we had
in the wheat garden, straw bales were hauled in. I had never heard of
such a thing. How could straw possible become “soil?” But with a
little mulch on top, fertile it became. That garden produced even
more vegetables – including sweet peas, one of my favorites, with
their climbing vines.
I've
described our success stories. Though much of our garden work bore
fruit, not all of it did. Like people, the natural world does not
always cooperate with our wants. Not all of the vegetables
flourished; in fact, some of them didn't grow at all. The very first
year, when we were on the verge of harvesting a substantial wheat
crop, the birds dove in days before and ate it all – not unlike the
parable we heard today! (I suppose birds need to eat, too. But
couldn't they have found some bugs?) Regardless of the obstacle, in a
short time we were back at it, planting again, making adjustments to
boost the soil for better growth and making plans to thwart the
birds.
I
encountered surprising green and growth during my seminary
experience. Some of that was a gift from God; for example: science
can explain some of the seed's growth, but to some extent, it's a
miracle. And some of it required work to bring about. Thinking about
those experiences makes me wonder if the apparent contradiction
between the passage from Isaiah and the parable of the “Good Sower”
isn't a contradiction at all, but rather a statement on the nature of
things – the nature of life, the nature of people, and the nature
of God. Plan as we might, life is unpredictable and the unexpected
happens. Accidents and injuries happen; storms hit. The birds descend
and eat up months of hard work in a matter of minutes. People don't
always do what we want them to do. Sometimes, we are disappointed
most by the ones we love most. Just as those we love must choose for
themselves, God allows us that same freedom. Even when our choices –
or lack thereof – cause us to fall short, God continues to sow
seeds of love in our lives. This is where I think the parable makes
an important statement about the nature of God. God knows we will
fall short, that we won't always be receptive to God's love or love
others the way we ought. The soil of our lives may be too hard, to
compact, or too sunny. We may or may not be able to change our soil
to make it more receptive. And yet – God loves us anyway. Imperfect
though our soil may be, God plants abundant love anyway, in the hopes
that it will grow in spite of our imperfections. Just like the sower
in the parable, God's love is generous, given without thought of the
cost or lost returns.
I
believe that love and that generosity forms the very heart of God.
And thanks be to God for that love, given to us generously, without
reserve, regardless of our choices, our shortcomings, or our
failures. Regardless of anything we have done, or failed to have
done, the Eternal God of the universe loves us eternally.
Source:
My thinking about this Gospel was shaped by Pulpit Fiction's
podcast 228 for Proper 10A for
July 16, 2017 at https://www.pulpitfiction.com/notes/proper10a.
