That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on a path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched, and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. If you have ears, hear!”
Matthew 13:1-9,18-23 (NRSVue)
“Hear, then, the parable of the sower. 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 this age 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.”
My sermon from the 6th Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (July 12, 2020) on Matthew 13:1-9,18-23.
Today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew doesn’t contain the first parable Jesus told. But it does use the word “parable” for the very first time. And that makes sense because Matthew wanted to show that Jesus didn’t only perform miracles or make broad proclamations like “love your neighbor.” Jesus was also a storyteller and he had about 40 stories that he told regularly. We have no idea how often Jesus told these stories – but my hunch is that he told them a lot. And each one of these repeated stories lingered and resonated within the stories the early church told during the 30 to 50 years before the gospels were written down. The stories Jesus told stuck with the followers of Jesus because they, like him, could not be summed up by some kind of simple saying. Rather, the depth of the storyteller was mirrored through the stories they choose to tell. Jesus’ parables, then, invite us to linger with them – in the same kind of way we linger with him.
Yet spending time with parables is more than just trying to figure them out. A parable is designed to be familiar and different all at the same time. Parables are always supposed to be weird. And that weirdness means that our response to them isn’t always going to be the same. We might, like the disciples, ask Jesus – what does planting seeds actually mean? Or – in other parables – we might get what Jesus is saying pretty quickly but we’re not comfortable with the implications Jesus’s words have for our daily life. Parables often feel, at first glance, like they’re easy to grasp. But it’s not long before we realize they’re just out of reach. In a way, parables sort of mimic what Jesus did at the start of our reading today. He got into a boat and went a little ways out, away from the shore. He made sure that everyone in the crowd could see him – and the water from the lake would actually help amplify his voice. But even though he was easily heard and seen – he wasn’t actually easy to get to. Instead, Jesus was at a distance – and in the words of John Proctor, that shows how parables are always “a little harder to get ahold of.”
And that to me – that inability to fully grasp and hold onto everything within one of Jesus’ stories – is what I mean when I say that parables are weird. Yet that can also be a way we can get deeper into the story itself. When I come across a parable, I usually try to first find that odd thing – that weird thing – that shows up in Jesus’ words. The weirdness might be a word that Jesus repeats, an action by a character in the story, or maybe even the setup for the story itself. Looking for the weird can help us interpret Jesus’ words. But as I sat down to spend time with this parable this week, looking for the weird felt – weird. I don’t know about you – but weirdness seems to be having a big moment in my life right now. Six months ago, when I dreamed of the summer heat, I didn’t imagine that some of us would be spending worship outside within it. We, together, didn’t imagine that we would spend a lot of our time worshipping in our homes. None of us thought we’d have spent all the time we have thinking about shaking hands, wearing facemasks, and who to hug and who to not. The pandemic we are still living through has made our everyday life weird. And that weirdness is centered in uncertainty – that makes planning for the future really hard. I don’t know what tomorrow will look like – I know that it’s going to be weird. And that weirdness doesn’t even include the other parts of our life that are also just weird. Our health; our finances; our employment; our families; and our relationships – there’s stuff we’re carrying that is giving the rest of our life its own flavor of weird. And I don’t even have to be specific about what those things are – because they’re personal to each of us – and yet each one of us might be thinking about it right now.
It’s weird to look for the weird in this really weird time. Yet Jesus never told us that our life wouldn’t be weird. Instead, he promised that in our baptism; in our faith; and because of him – we wouldn’t have to live through that weirdness alone.
So what’s weird in the parable we just heard? Well – I’m not a very good gardener but even I know that throwing seed on a path or in rocky soil isn’t really the best idea. Seeds need specific things to grow – and their best chance they have is in good soil. Even though we find plants growing in the cracks of sidewalk or among weeds and thorns – we don’t usually put seeds in those places on purpose. Our goal for the seed we put in soil is for a plant to grow and flourish. As a sower, a planter of seed, we want our seed to begin in the best soil possible so that it grows. How the seed reacts to different kinds of soil as seen in our parable – none of that is really odd. Even if the crowd around Jesus was a poor gardener like myself, none of them would be surprised at the seed flourishing in good soil. Our instinct might want to imagine the ways we can be good soil for the faith God has given us. But if we stay with the weird – we see that the soil, the thorns, the rocky boulders, and the birds – do exactly what they’re supposed to do. Those are the bits of Jesus’ story that are easily grasped. Yet the sower throwing seeds with abandon – especially in places where it’s not going to thrive – now that’s downright weird.
And that weirdness might be where God’s word is speaking to us as we through our weird. The seed is the parable is God’s word – but God’s word is always more than just words spoken a loud or read from a page. God’s Word is also God’s presence – and God’s presence is always filled with a promise. The seed God spreads with abandon – is a promise that God is always with you. You are worthy of God’s love – and God doesn’t limit how much love you are given. When God committed to you in your baptism and through faith, God did not hold back. God fully gave all that God had to you because you really do mean everything to God.
And that commitment from God is a promise given regardless of the soil our soul currently is in. We will sometimes find ourselves feeling and embracing the presence of the divine – and will see how the presence of God is transforming our life right now. But there are other times – maybe even most of the time – when our soul is well-worn, rocky, and full of thorns. We find ourselves with a faith that’s too complacent – and when something new pops up, our only conclusion is that God must have abandoned us. Or something incredible happens and our life is suddenly filled with a passion for God – but it burns out quickly and without warning. And there are other times when the rest of our life seems to overwhelm our sense of God – and we go weeks, months, or even years not even looking for where God is. Yet through all that different soil of the soul – God’s promise to each of you never fades. God doesn’t let the weirdness of our lives or our times limit what God chooses to do. God already claimed you and me – and holds us together in a Jesus who didn’t run from the weirdness of the world but lived through it. If your soil is rocky, worn down, and full of thorns – you aren’t tilling that ground alone. Because we have been brought into the weird story of a God who loves you, and me, and the world with a love full of mercy; forgiveness; justice; and hope. That love isn’t only meant for the saints, the most faithful, and those who always get everything right. That love, instead, is for us – the imperfect; the well worn; and those who get it wrong more often than we get it right. The soil of your soul is not what makes you who you are. Instead, it’s the truth that Jesus loves you – even through your weird. No matter who you are – or what you’re going through – you aren’t there alone. Instead, you have a gardener who is tending to you – and he will bring you through.
Amen.