The Rev. Joseph Farnes
All Saints, Boise
July 16, 2023
Proper 10A
A sower goes out to sow, and he doesn’t even prepare the ground or have a plan. A sower goes out with his bag of seed, casting seed on the path where the birds could eat it up. A sower goes out, and he spreads seed on the rocky ground where it’ll spring up but have no root. A sower goes out, and he throws seed where there have been thorns and thistles for years, and those plants will get choked out. A sower goes out, and he throws around some seed, and some of it will land on good, ready soil that isn’t rocky or infested with thorns, and that seed will sprout and yield 30, 60, 100 times what he sowed.
The challenge of this parable is that the Gospel passage so quickly interprets it for us. A good parable should be left open-ended. The rush to explain the parable as if it were a neat and tidy one-to-one correlation means that, once you’ve figured that out, then there’s nothing more to learn.
But in Matthew’s Gospel, the disciples are confused. They want to know. They want it simple. There’s some info that gets left out of our Sunday morning reading. The disciples go to Jesus and say, “Hey, the crowds don’t understand what you said. Why do you use these parables?”
We know what they’re really saying. They’re admitting that they don’t understand, either. In part of the Gospel reading left out of today’s selection, Jesus gives a cryptic response about how those who don’t understand still won’t understand. And then Jesus explains the parable to his disciples because they clearly do not understand the parable. And so we get this neat, simple, wrapped-up-in-a-bow understanding of the parable.
This means that. One-to-one correlation, and a tidy explanation of what each part means. The seed is the word of the Kingdom. Birds eating up the seed is the person not understanding. The rocky soil represents those who have no root and spring up fast and fall away when times get tough. The thorns represent the cares of the world that choke out understanding from others. And then there’s some that falls on good soil and sprouts and bears its results, 30, 60, 100 times.
Poof, done. I don’t need to explain anything, right? You all get it? We can go home now?
Ah, instinctively you know there’s something deeper. Parables aren’t neat and tidy. Parables open up layers. They pull you in. Storytelling invites us to think from different angles.
Because guess what Jesus’ explanation to his disciples doesn’t explain: Who is the sower? Why is the sower so careless in sowing these seeds? And what is the sower going to do with this harvest? Ah ha! You knew there was more.
So let’s chew on this parable a little more, shall we?
Who is the sower? Could be God. Could be Jesus’ description of his preaching ministry. Could be you. Yeah, you. That’s the fun of parables and why they resist simple explanations.
What if you were the sower? Going out with a huge bag of seed, tossing it here and there as you walk, not even paying that close of attention to where the seed is landing? Some goes on the path and feeds the birds. Some lands on rocky soil – oops, forgot to dig those rocks out! Some lands where you forgot to weed and get those thorns out … or maybe there’s where the thorny blackberry bushes or roses went a little wild… good luck, seed! And finally, finally some will land on good soil where it might have a chance of sprouting… and that stuff bears an incredible return. For each seed you get 30, 60, 100 back.
Suddenly this parable takes a turn. Instead of us focusing on what type of soil we might be, we notice just how careless and carefree the sower is. Almost irresponsible! How did the sower get this seed – and why be so careless and carefree?
We’re the sowers in the parable, and instead of being careless and carefree we tend to keep a tight lid on that seed. We only want to sow it where it will assuredly grow. We want to be careful, cautious. I get it. We don’t want to waste the seed.
But what is the seed, again? The word of the Kingdom? The word of Christ’s powerful and liberating love, the word of his ministry, the word of his life, death, and resurrection? Is that a finite resource? Will your bag of seed get empty? The world needs this seed.
You can spread it in your daily life. Do you have a friend who’s looking for spiritual foundation? Have you ever asked them? Have you ever shared the role of Jesus in your own life? Do people know that you’re a Christian – a thoughtful Christian, someone who cares about the hungry and the hurting, someone who strives to love God and your neighbor as yourself?
At this point you might be wondering: Wait, is this a sermon about evangelism?
And the answer is yes. Yes it is.
You know how I pointed out how careless and carefree the sower is? Sowing seed as they walk along, tossing it on the path, the rocks, amidst the thorns, and sometimes getting it into the good soil?
Because you and I can do this in our daily lives as we go along. Because it seriously sounds like this sower isn’t going out to a carefully curated field to sow. They’re going along, reaching into the seed bag, and flinging it. Where it lands, it lands. Where it grows, it grows.
And the world needs this. The world needs not just acts of love, but it needs words of God’s boundless love, of Christ’s redemptive love, of the Spirit’s transformative love. The world needs the seed you sow.
Look what the parable isn’t telling you to do: it’s not telling you to go out into the field, measure it all out, dig out all the rocks, pull out all the thorns, make it perfect. Just sow.
What a liberating image! Because us Episcopalians tend to think evangelism and think we’re going to go out and accost people, or we’re going to strategize about how to target the kind of people we want to be part of the church community. The sower isn’t sent out to find that one piece of good soil, the sower isn’t sent out to find the person ripe for conversion, and fling seed in their face. “I think you’re good soil! Have some seed!”
You and I wouldn’t like seed flung in our faces, so we’re not going to do it to others. But if someone tossed us a packet of seeds and said, “Hey, you might grow this,” we’d consider it. We’d give it a try. Take a pamphlet from the back about spirituality or prayer or the Bible. Give it to someone. Give it a try.
So I’ve suggested who the sower might be, and I’ve suggested why they might be so careless in sowing their seed. So to what end is the sower sowing all these seeds? What is the harvest for?
Because that’s another piece of our parable. It’s not just about growing stuff. The plants yield 30, 60, 100 times. There is an abundance. We sow seeds to grow plants for food, we sow seeds to grow plants to make our space beautiful, we sow seeds to rebuild the environment and ecology we humans have trashed.
We sow seeds to grow food. Food for hungry bodies, and food for hungry spirits. Food to make for fellowship and a meal together. Food that is more than enough to share.
We sow seeds to make for beautiful blooms and plants. Beauty and art and music are not optional in life – they are essential. We gather to make music, to make art, to share beautiful plants with our neighborhood.
We sow seeds to restore the natural world that has been so damaged. As the earth bakes, we sow seeds to grow plants that can hold water in the ground and hold soil together. We sow seeds to rebuild the native plants that support native animal species and show the diversity of God’s creation. We sow seeds to care for those who come after us.
Will we be so bold to sow these seeds? Or are we afraid of the birds that snatch up our efforts, of the rocks that impede our growth, of the sun that casts burning contempt on our flourishing, of the thorns that use their wiles and their force to obscure and choke out the living seeds of the loving God? “A sower went out to sow…” will that sower be you? Amen.