Thomas Kleinert
In the spring, I planted a little herb garden: parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. And no, I didn’t pay homage to Simon & Garfunkel’s Scarborough Fair – I also planted basil. Parsley seeds are tiny, I just pinched them and sprinkled them randomly on the soil like salt on fried eggs. Sage seeds are larger and round, so I carefully put two of them in a row of shallow, pinky-size holes. I decided to plant two, because I didn’t know how many seeds would actually germinate and survive, and I was pleasantly surprised when all but one out of ten sage seeds germinated and grew into healthy plants. I did lose my entire first crop of parsley, though, because the seedlings came up quick, but got too much sun before they had strong roots. I should have paid more attention to Jesus.
Jesus never told a story about parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme – although he did mention mustard, mint, dill and cumin, now that I think about it – but he did tell stories about soil and seed, fig trees and vineyards, sheep and goats, and all of his stories were episodes in the great story of his life: the story of God’s reign on earth.
When I hear the parable of the sower, I notice extravagant generosity. I see a farmer walking across the field, with a large bag of seed slung across one shoulder, and, holding the bag open with one hand, spreading seed by the handful, scattering them across the land: No pinching of seeds here, no careful counting either. This farmer is sowing with abandon. I am reminded of the armadas of helicopter seeds launched by maples at the end of spring or the delicate seeds of dandelions sailing on the wind like clouds of promise. So many seeds, year after year, and no one keeps count how many germinate, how many grow to maturity, or how many get eaten by the birds or the squirrels, because year after year, there’s a new generation of maples and dandelions, and of birds and squirrels. The deep, generous wisdom at work in the wild flourishing of creation, is also at work in the coming of God’s kingdom on earth, I hear Jesus say. We are invited to trust the extravagance and faithfulness of God, particularly when all we can see is trampled, compacted soil where nothing will grow, or rocky ground, or creepy kudzu smothering all life but its own.
As you listen to the parable of the sower, where do you find yourself drawn into it? Do you identify with the sower who scatters seed with abandon? Or do you see yourself in the seed, thrown into conditions where you struggle to thrive? Perhaps you find yourself wondering what it might be like to simply fall on good soil and sing, “All I have needed thy hand has provided…”? Or do you compare yourself, your life, your heart to the ground? Do you think about the story’s four different soil types, wondering how receptive and responsive you are to the word of the kingdom? Every parable contains a multitude of stories, depending on how you turn it, how long you’re willing to sit with it, and how deep you let it sink in.
When the first generations of the church were facing difficult times in their mission and witness, when all their work seemed in vain, when the word of the kingdom they desired to live and spread appeared to go unheard and unheeded, they remembered the story of the sower, and they asked Jesus, “What does it mean?” And in the answer they received from their prophets and teachers in Jesus’ name, the risen Lord said to them,
When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.[1]
The word of the kingdom may face a three-fourths failure rate, but among those who do hear it, really hear it, the yield is – wow! I mean “wow!” because the typical yield of wheat in Jesus’ day may have been 8 to 10 measures per measure of seed, maybe 15 measures in perfect growing conditions![2] The parable is speaking straight from everyday life in telling of seed picked by the birds, or of seedlings withering in the sun or getting choked out by competing plants – all that was the common experience of any Galilean working the land. But a crop of 30 measures for a measure of seed would have been a farmer’s dream come true times two, and Jesus tells us to imagine 100! Jesus tells us to imagine an abundance way beyond reasonable expectations, and especially in those relentless seasons when the word of the kingdom appears to go unheard and unheeded. Trust the sower, he tells us, trust the seed, and do your part to hear the word of the kingdom, to really hear it, and live it – there’s nothing for you to worry about, church, hear my word and live it! Pray for God’s kingdom to come, and live into it.
Beginning in v3, the word “parable” occurs twelve times in ch. 13. The word derives from a Greek word meaning “to throw alongside.” That is, basic to this kind of story is the notion of comparison; one entity is set alongside something else to be illuminated by the comparison. Thus “the kingdom of heaven” is “thrown alongside” or compared to and illuminated by everyday situations that point beyond themselves in ways that, according to one scholar, “[leave] the mind in sufficient doubt about [the parable’s] precise application to tease it into active thought.”[3] Thus a parable doesn’t just mean one thing, but it opens the mind and heart to perceive a meadow of illuminating thoughts and insights. One person says,
I see myself in the sower, and the seed is my life. The story encourages me to invest my life in the good soil of the kingdom, where it will bear fruit beyond my imagining.
To another hearer, God is the sower and the seed is God’s word.
Our lives aren’t always smooth, dark, rich soil, she says. There are times when we have been trampled on so much, our lives resemble hard, dense dirt roads, too hard for God’s word to penetrate. And there are rocky patches where hope springs up, only to wither away in the heat of hard days. And then there are times when God’s word really does take root, but the weeds of worldly worries overwhelm the seedlings. The sower, however, keeps sowing. The sower keeps sowing until some of that seed falls on good ground and bears fruit. As long as the sower keeps sowing, there’s hope for us.
And yet another who has pondered the words of the parable says,
I heard this old Arabic folk tale: When God created the world, he entrusted all the stones to two angels. Each had a full bag. As they flew over Palestine, one of the bags broke, spilling half the stones that were intended for the whole world. Sometimes I feel like the angel’s bag broke over my life, leaving no room for new things to grow. I like the thought that God will keep sowing until perhaps just one seed falls on that hidden spot of deep, rich soil in my life, and there it will sprout and take root – like a tree whose roots reach deep below the rocky surface.
And yet another who has let the words sink in, says,
The story makes me think about how receptive I really am to God’s word. When my faith seems weak, perhaps it is because I have allowed busyness and cares to fill my life, too many distractions and false loves, which threaten to choke off my faith like thorns overgrowing a seed-bed. Or have I become so set in my ways that my paths have become ruts, and I can hear nothing new, not even the word that can break me open?
Jesus has planted his life as a seed in the world, and he has scattered parables like a sower of stories, seeds that produce a rich harvest of listening and understanding, illuminating both his life and ours. And the harvest continues because the sower keeps sowing and those seeds bear fruit daily in faith, compassion and faithful action, and the lives of those who have received him in turn become seeds of the kingdom themselves, scattered and sown with the same extravagant trust in God’s faithfulness that characterized the life of Jesus.
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth, [says the Lord]; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.[4]
[1] Matthew 13:18-23
[2] See references at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agriculture_in_ancient_Rome
[3] See Warren Carter https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-15/commentary-on-matthew-131-9-18-23-5 and the widely accepted definition by C. H. Dodd, The Parables of the Kingdom, 1936
[4] Isaiah 55:10-11