We live in an uncertain world. If I asked you, I’m sure each of you
could come up with a personal list of uncertainties in your life. I’m honestly
not sure how much good that would do, however. But suppose for a few moments at
least we concentrate on something that is certain. Maybe we could start with
today’s gospel.
The
second half of our Gospel reading today gives us an interpretation of the
parable so perhaps that might be certain. We can tell ourselves we know what it
means. We can concentrate on the soil since that is what the interpretation
does. We’re told what seed sown on the path means, what seed sown on rocky
ground means, and so forth. It might be helpful to know though, that recent
biblical scholarship suggests that the interpretation of this parable was most
likely added much later, and probably to the similar parable in Mark’s Gospel
and then picked up by Matthew.[1]
Knowing that, perhaps the interpretation isn’t as certain as we originally
thought.
Instead
of looking at the soil, suppose we look at the sower, the farmer, instead for
our certainty. The parable does beg the question: What kind of farmer would pay
no attention to the soil or conditions?
Even
those of you who don’t garden probably know enough to know your chances of success
are pretty slim if you dig a hole in the middle of your yard in mid-summer, poke
in a seed and walk away. I did that once and I can tell you nothing happens! So
what kind of sower pays no attention to conditions, no attention to preparing
the land, no attention to the weather or the water or the wisdom of how others
have planted before?
In
today’s parable it’s a sower who has so much seed, who has so much to plant it
doesn’t matter whether the ground is a hard path, or rocky, or choked with
weeds. It’s a sower who loves planting so much it doesn’t matter that much of
the seed may be wasted. It’s a sower who knows even if some seed doesn’t sprout,
the yield will be much greater than anyone expects. It’s a sower who knows
sowing is everything and everywhere.
You might know this sower is God. And you might know already
that God is far more generous than we can even imagine. The generosity of God
is extended to us and to the world in spite of uncertainty, in spite of
violence, in spite of death. Perhaps this is precisely why God scatters seed
with such abandon. Knowing the possibilities that human beings have for
failure, God simply keeps sowing seed. Knowing the yield will be far greater
than we can imagine, God simply keeps sowing seed. Knowing the uncertainty of
life for us, when we look to God for certainty, God simply keeps sowing seed.
Always the sower, always the broadcaster of a generosity we are just beginning
to know, always simply, generously, abundantly, sowing seed.
Despite
war or violence or terrorism, God sows seed among us. Despite death, a baby is
born. Despite lack of funding for schools and lack of money on the part of the
parents, a child learns to read. Despite over-scheduling and over-consuming and
not enough focus on faith, people repair homes and feed the poor. Despite
self-involvement and coming to church for our own needs and staying long enough
to get fed and then leaving quickly (guilty as charged!), newcomers are
welcomed. Despite some folks thinking the poor are responsible for their own
poverty, people open their hearts to the needy. Despite pinched church budgets
and scarcity thinking, bills get paid and doors stay open.
Suffering
and death are brought to their knees because God just keeps sowing seed.
Poverty and want and loneliness are assuaged because God just keeps sowing
seed. And we can be part of the sowing, if only we will listen. Let those who
have ears to hear, listen!
If
you want to hear God sow seeds you have to listen. You have to get quiet enough
to hear. You have to open your mind and your heart to the sower. Let those who
have ears to hear, listen!
I’m going to ask you to do something for just a minute. I
know you can do it. Get really quiet and listen. Just for a minute. I know a
minute is a long time. I know some of you are really active people who might
get a little impatient. I know you’re going to wonder when it’s over. I know
you’re going to hear some rustling and some shuffling and some sniffling and
maybe a child or two. But each time you do, just listen. Listen to this sound. (I poured seed from bowl to basket.) Do you hear that? That’s the sound of seed, an
unlimited amount of seed. That’s the sound of God forgetting about the soil, or
the weather, or the birds. That’s the sound of God sowing seed. Listen... Listen...[2]
(I waited one full minute and during that minute poured the seeds from the bowl to the
basket and back. Then concluded.) Let those who have ears to hear, listen! AMEN.
The Rev Nicolette Papanek
©2017
[1] Mark 13:13-20
[2] This
sermon draws its seed from a concept developed by Carl Gregg from Thomas
Merton’s book, New Seeds of Contemplation.
I knew I wanted to illustrate the sound of the seed; reading Carl Gregg’s thoughtful
posting solidified the concept for which I am deeply grateful. To read Carl
Gregg’s excellent posting, please see:
http://www.patheos.com/community/carlgregg/2011/06/30/jesus%E2%80%99-seed-parable-and-merton%E2%80%99s-%E2%80%9Cnew-seeds-of-contemplation%E2%80%9D-a-progressive-christian-lectionary-commentary-for-sunday-july-10-2011/
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