Sermon Preached at All Angels’ Episcopal Church, New York, NY on July 10, 2011
Holy Father, help us be a people with ears to hear, eyes to see, and a heart to receive the words your Son has spoken. And as we make our way to the foreign land your Son inhabited so long ago, may his words rain down on us in such away where we will be renewed and refreshed. We pray these things in your name. Amen
So Jesus was having an odd sort of day. He had been healing people when some Pharisees and teachers accused him of working for the devil. Jesus responds elegantly as always using logic and the Old Testament to help them see that this accusation simply could not be true.
But as he was responding to them, His mother and brothers made their way to the crowd, asking if they could speak to Him. To their surprise, Jesus said something that might not have gone over very well. He said to the crowd, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” Pointing to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.”
Like I said, Jesus was having an odd day.
After this encounter, Jesus left the home he was in. I don’t know why Jesus thought it was a good idea to get some air, or why he made his way to a nearby lake, but a crowd began to follow him. The crowd grew to point where Jesus had to step onto a boat and pushed off from the shore so that he could get a little distance. And as he was floating there, he told this parable.
“A farmer went out to sow his seeds.
“As he was scattering his seeds, some fell along a path, and the birds came and ate them up.
“Some fell on rocky places, where there was very little soil. The seeds sprang up quickly because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root.
“Other seeds fell among thorns and the thorns choked the plants.
“Still other seeds fell on good soil and they produced great crops — a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.
“Whoever has ears, let them hear.”
After hearing Jesus share this parable, the disciple didn’t get what He was talking about, which I find deeply reassuring. If for no other reason that it gives us the freedom to say sometimes we don’t know what Jesus is talking about.
And I find this liberating because if they didn’t get it, and they were with him for years, then it gives me permission to say things, like “I don’t know” or “I don’t have an answer for that.” It reminds me of Paul’s language in Second Timothy about running the race. And I just find it comforting.
But I also find comfort that Jesus does go on and explain what he means when he uses parables.
Responding to his disciples question about why He uses parables, Jesus says this:
“Because the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven has been given to you, and not to them… blessed are your eyes because they see and your ears because they hear. For truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, but didn’t see it. And to hear what you hear, but didn’t hear it.”
Jesus then goes on to explain what he means by the Parable of the Sower:
“When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and doesn’t understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart. This is the seed sown along the path.
“The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away.
“The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful.
“But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.”
This explanation is really helpful, but there are a couple of things the disciple would have immediately got that Jesus doesn’t need to explain.
I think the most obvious detail for them would have been that God is the Sower. And God is reckless when it comes to scattering blessings. Unlike a cautious farmer, who is methodical about planting her seeds in good soil, God just throws them and lets each seed go wherever they will land. This is an image of God that they would have gotten because they were the recipients of incredible grace and this is a lesson that would be hard for them to forget.
The other detail that they would have just known is that Jesus seldom talks about a person’s identity within an individualistic context. Jesus’ understanding of a person is rooted in a communal identity, meaning a person is a part of a family, village, or clan. To say you are from somewhere or belong to a particular family carries a great deal of meaning. It means that people can make assumptions about you and most of the time they are true. It means that you are a reflection of the community you come from and how you act shapes how others will view your community.
This is particularly important if we think back to what Jesus had just done earlier that day. Before he spoke this parable, he did something incredible. He redefined his family and said that you are not defined by where you have come from; you are defined by what you do. And if your actions are in tune with what God’s desires, then you belong to God’s kingdom. You are Jesus’ sisters and brothers and, in some sense, a mother.
When we look at the Parable of the Sower through this lens, some of the meanings shift and we have to re-imagine Jesus’ meaning for the churches today.
After reading these passages, I can’t help but wonder if He would have prescribed some additional meaning to this parable.
Like for the path:
Would Jesus have identified just the evil one or any action that could rob someone of a blessing? If its the latter, then groups in churches, sometimes referred to as the Frozen Chosen or the Old Guard or the Older Brother, have to be really careful. Because taking away an opportunity from other people to invest in a community robs them of a chance to belong and feel like they are valued as active members of the Church.
Or like the part about the shallow soil:
Have churches done enough to encourage depth or have we had other priorities? Because if we have placed other priorities over depth, then nothing we do will stick. Roots won’t sink in. And all our efforts will be wasted. And if we are open to the recent criticism of Eugene Peterson, then we will recognize that churches have been more concerned with entertainment (when it comes to our children), performance (when it comes to our services) and institutionalization (when it comes to the business of churches). By and large, our churches have given way to a culture preoccupied with consumerism, which means depth isn’t even on the table.
In the interview where Peterson makes these observations, he talks about how individual consumption has driven our piety. And as a result, we jump from one church to another using language about how our needs aren’t being met. This view of the self hinders our ability to cultivate depth. When we can’t stay still, or are too egocentric about our faith, we don’t have the experiences to become good soil.
These words were probably the hardest for me to hear because I’ve done my fair share of bouncing around. But what Peterson does in voicing this opinion is offer wisdom only age can give. Peterson doesn’t just speak as someone who embodies good soil. He speaks as some who is “rich” soil. Which why despite his criticisms, he describes optimism about where the Church is going because in the end Christ is still Lord.
And we should find comfort in that. Because with discipline and time, we can be people who really have ears to hear what God is doing and not people who are so distracted by advertisements and cultural messages that just make everything blur. We can be people who are patient with others, who call out the good in others, and carefully tend the broken because we can continually experience the love of God in a profound ways.
And I think this is why the bit about the thorns are so important because it warns us what happens when we put anything above our trust in God’s Lordship.
A bunch of years ago, I was in Korean church in Atlanta “piously” preparing my heart for the service. I’m sure I thought I had good intentions at the time, which is why I came early to sit in the sanctuary as the worship team practiced. But reflecting on it now, I’m pretty sure my motives weren’t so pure. There was probably some girl on the worship team I wanted to impress because that’s what you do when your 19. Eh, what can I say?
Back then, I was a freshly declared theology major who thought he knew much more than he actually did. Turns out, some things are hard to change, despite the better angels God grants us (most notably, my wife). But God was about to show me how far I needed to go if I was going to live the life God had intended.
You see, I wasn’t the only person who had come to church early that day. Annie was there too.
Annie was a short, plump Korean girl with Down syndrome. And as I walked in the sanctuary, I heard her before I saw her. She had come early because she couldn’t wait for church to start. And as soon as the worship band started practicing, she literally couldn’t contain herself. She sang so loudly and so badly that you couldn’t help but smile. And as I saw the worship team navigate their way through their practice, two things struck me.
First, the worship team absolutely adored this girl. So much so that they would play each song to the end before they went back to talk about the corrections they needed make, which probably took more time then they had. And second, I realized that I was never going to love God as deeply, as passionately, or as innocently as Annie. And as I heard her sing bad note after bad note, my heart began to break. It was like she was tearing at my thorns, ripping them out with tender love. And as this process began to settle in, a conviction settled in too.
That day, I learned that some of the most important people who can shape our faith will never stand behind a pulpit or break bread behind a table or write a theological masterpiece. Those who prop themselves up to be wise will be put to shame and those with the simplest faiths, like children, will inherit the Kingdom of God and truly be good soil.
I wish Jesus said more about what it looks like to be good soil. Maybe he didn’t because we have a tendency to value the heart over actions or works over faith. Most of us don’t hold the two in tension together very well.
Maybe, if we pressed him a little bit, like the disciples did, He would say good soil is kind. Good soil likes to listen. People who embody good soil probably would consider themselves unworthy of the title. They might describe themselves as having their own thorns, like Paul, or they might be open about their own shortcomings. They probably learned early on that they couldn’t do it all on their own and sought a mentor. And as they got older, they became open to the idea they could mentor others and generously give of their time. Really good soil has self-control, is slow to anger, and is patient. Really good soil has been refined by age, compassion, and most of the time pain. Pain because there is a cost in carrying a cross, or having thorns ripped out of you. It’s not easy. It requires discipline and no one does it on their own. But then again, no one does it on their own. We do it together. And maybe that’s the lesson we should learn from this passage. We can only do it together.
And so may we be a people who have ears to hear. May we recognize that we are in this together: one body of Christ, striving to be good soil, racing towards the end. May we be willing to listen to those in need with compassion and offer grace in ways that are fresh and new so that we can truly be the sisters and brothers of Jesus, our Lord and King. We pray these things in your name, Father in Heaven. Amen.
