THE SEED, THE SOIL AND THE SOWER

I love the parables that Jesus told – those cleverly crafted stories about common, everyday objects in which Jesus gives us brief glimpses into the mysteries of God’s kingdom.

Things like mustard seeds, and yeast, and pearls, and fishing nets and seeds.

I wonder what parables Jesus might have told us today?

I wonder how he might have compared God’s kingdom to the common stuff that we see every day.

The kingdom of God is like a microwave - where peoples’ hearts and lives are warmed and transformed from the inside.

The kingdom of God is like a construction site - where people come together, each with their own skills and talents and out of a pile of rubble, new foundations are laid and new futures are built.

The kingdom of God is like a cell phone - enabling us to reach out and touch someone.

But many of Jesus’ parables were much more involved than this – stories, that on the surface seemed quite innocent, but with an undergirding of truth that was really quite profound –

and some people suggest that Jesus’ ability to be subtle – while packing a punch - was the way he managed to stay out of jail - and they may be right.

His opponents just didn’t get him – they didn’t understand the often subversive nature of his parables – which enabled Jesus to smile to himself, no doubt.

John the Baptist was arrested – and ultimately beheaded - because he spoke so openly and clearly - particularly in his criticism of the King for marrying his own brother’s wife.

Jesus, on the other hand, was often much less obvious in his speech.

For what reason would you arrest someone for talking about seeds and thorns and different kinds of soil?

By speaking in parables like this Jesus could get his message across without saying it directly, so that his followers nodded and smiled while his critics scratched their heads wondering what the big deal was with these silly little stories.

He spoke in parables so that those who listened with their hearts more than their heads would be able to really hear what he was saying.

One day, so many people were gathered to hear Jesus that he had to get into a boat and push off-shore a bit so he could be heard by them all.

“And he told them many things in parables saying: A sower went out to sow...”

We know the rest of the story.

How many of you remember the stage play “Godspell”?

I remember how they portrayed this particular parable - four boisterous actors dressed like clowns played the seeds.

The seed that was sown on the path no sooner hit the ground than other actors making crow noises flapped down and pecked away at him.

The seed that was sown on rocky ground came to life right away, waving her arms around and dancing in place, but then an actor carrying a big yellow cardboard sun stood over her until she grew limp and crumpled to the stage.

The seed that fell among the thorns barely had time to get to his knees before he was surrounded by prickly looking characters who got their hands around his neck and choked him.

Then there was the seed that fell on good soil. It came gracefully to life and bowed to the audience and its fellow actors who gave a round of applause.

Every time I hear this parable I begin thinking about what kind of ground I’m on with God.

I wonder about the thorns that are growing in my life - all the busy-ness that sometimes chokes out my time for God.

I wonder about the birds that hover overhead - the critical thoughts and cynicism that sometimes peck away at my enthusiasm and positive energy.

I wonder about the rocks that infest my field - the stubbornness that sometimes won’t let go of my need to control.

Then I make a strong resolve within myself that I’m going to get to work on my personal growing field, getting it tilled and fertilized so that God’s word can take root more deeply and produce a good harvest.

Of course I realize that the odds are stacked against me, according to the parable - by a ratio of three to one.

Only one quarter of the seeds fell onto good growing soil - and I begin to wonder how I might beat the odds, or at least improve on them.

That’s what I usually do when I read this parable.

I hear it as a challenge to be different - to improve myself - so that if the same parable were ever told about me it would have a more positive ending, with all, or at least more of the seed falling on rich, fertile soil.

And I think that was likely Jesus’ intention in telling this parable - that we would find ourselves in it - that we would hear with understanding ears and think about changes we might need to make in order that God’s kingdom would become more real in our lives and through us, in our world.

At least that appears to be Jesus’ intention in telling the parable.

It’s the interpretation that he gives.

It’s the interpretation that most commentaries accept as well, but in reading some of Barbara Brown Taylor’s work, I came across another possibility.

In her book “The Seeds of Heaven”, she suggests that if the usual interpretation is correct, one would think that the parable might be called ‘the parable of the different kinds of soil’.

Instead, it has been known for centuries as the parable of the Sower, which means that there is a chance, just a chance, that we might be missing something else here.

We hear the story and think it is a story about us - but what if it isn’t just about us?

What if it really has more to say about the sower?

What if it is not about our own successes and failures and birds and rocks and thorns?

What if it really is about the extravagance of a sower who does not seem to be fazed by such concerns, who flings seed everywhere, helter-skelter, wasting it with holy abandon - who walks among the rocks, picks his way through the thorns, tossing the seeds about – knowing some of them will feed the birds – shouting “hallelujah” at the good soil while he keeps on sowing, confident that there is more than enough seed to go around – knowing also that when the harvest comes at last it will fill every barn to the rafters?

If this is really the parable of the Sower and not the parable of the different kinds of soil, then it begins to hit our ears quite differently.

The focus is not on us and our shortfalls but on the generosity of the bountiful Sower who does not obsess about the conditions of the fields - who is not stingy with the seed, but who tosses it everywhere, on good soil and bad, who is not cautious or judgmental or even very practical, but who seems willing to keep reaching into his abundantly full seed bag, covering the whole creation with the fertile seed of his truth.

I have to wonder if we had been the Sower, how carefully we might have scattered the seed.

I think all we have to do is look at the pattern that’s followed by serious gardeners and farmers.

They research, they plan, they prepare and THEN they plant.

In comparison, the Sower in the parable appears to be terribly reckless and irresponsible.

But then, we’re not the Sower. God is – and God’s ways are very different from our ways.

The things that are important to us aren’t always the same things that are important to God.

We may think that the message of the Christian church is only for those who are ready to hear it - those who will respond in the right way - those who will commit themselves to it wholeheartedly.

But maybe God sees it differently. Maybe God says, “Share it with everyone. Don’t worry about how they respond right now. There’s so much of this good news stuff that you can afford to be extravagant with it.”

It may not be so much about productivity and properly prepared ground.

It just may be far more about the abundant, open, inclusive, far-reaching, all-embracing love of the Sower who wants everyone to have a chance - even a slight chance - to experience it.

Barbara Brown Taylor retells the parable of the Sower this way.

Once upon a time a Sower went out to sow – and as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came along and devoured them.

So he put his seed pouch down and spent the next hour or so stringing aluminium foil all around his field. He put up the fake owl he ordered from TSC and as an afterthought, he hung a couple of traps for the Japanese beetles.

Then he returned to his sowing, but he noticed that some of the seeds were falling on rocky ground, so he put his seed pouch down again and went to get his wheelbarrow and shovel.

A couple of hours later he had dug up the rocks and was trying to think of something useful he could do with them when he remembered his sowing and got back to it, but as he did, he ran right into a patch of thistles that was sure to strangle his little seedlings.

So he put his seed pouch down again and looked everywhere for the weed poison but finally decided just to pull the thistles up by hand, which meant he had to go back to the shed and get his gloves.

By the time he had cleared the patch of thistles it was getting near dark, so the Sower picked up his seed pouch and his tools and decided to call it a day.

That night he fell asleep in his chair reading a seed catalogue and when he woke the next morning he walked out into his field and found a big crow sitting on his fake owl.

He discovered rocks he had missed the day before and he found new little leaves and shoots on the roots of the thistles that had broken off in his hands.

The Sower considered all of this, scratched his head and then he did a strange thing.

He began to laugh, just a chuckle at first and then a full-blown belly laugh that turned into a wheeze at the end when his wind ran out.

Still laughing and wheezing he went to get his seed pouch and began flinging seeds everywhere;

into the roots of trees, onto the roof of his house, across all his fences and into his neighbour’s fields.

He shook seeds at his cows and offered a handful to the dog - he even tossed a fistful into the creek, thinking they might take root downstream somewhere.

The more he sowed, the more he seemed to have.

None of it made any sense to him, but for once in his life that didn’t seem to matter, and he had to admit that he’d never been happier.

Let those who have ears to hear, hear.