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Wherever They May Fall
Sermon by Catherine W. FitzGerald March 5, 2006, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Ezekiel 36:8-12 Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
“Let anyone with ears listen!” concludes Jesus’ parable to the crowds on the shore. Though he uses this proclamation many times within the gospels—it seems particularly poignant here—for this parable is surely about our listening and receptivity. May we be receptive to its meaning this day. The parable of the sower is the first of seven parables of the kingdom we find in Matthew’s thirteenth chapter. These kingdom parables are not haphazardly placed within Matthew—they lie at the heart of his gospel and at the center of Jesus’ ministry. In giving parables to the masses, Jesus speaks in an “enigmatic language that both conceals and reveals,” explains Biblical scholar Douglas Hare. “By speaking in parables, Jesus could get his message across without saying it directly, so that his followers nodded and smiled while his critics scratched their bewildered heads,” agrees Episcopalian priest and author Barbara Brown Taylor. “He speaks in parables, he says, so that only certain kinds of listeners can hear him—those who listen less with their minds than with their hearts.” His speaking in parables reflected outwardly what was already going on in his ministry—not everyone heard, not everyone understood. In part, these kingdom parables reflect Jesus’ response to the rejection he experienced from ‘this generation’ in the preceding two chapters of Matthew. As the parable seems to portray—not all have been or will be responsive to the Word of God. Many who were counted among the “unresponsive” were those who could not reconcile their own ideals of messianic and kingdom hope with that which Jesus represented, among them the Pharisees and the Zealots. But we also know that even his disciples faltered. Jesus had spent his life spreading the news of God, with less than perfect results by anyone’s standards. Many people remained not only unconvinced, they actively opposed him! Though the crowds are so great in number that he must climb aboard a boat to be seen and heard on the shore—he knows well that not all in the crowd will truly hear what he has to say. Perhaps it is out of Jesus’ disappointment that this message concerning the kingdom begins. Thanks to the allegorical explanations provided in the latter half of the text, it is safe to assume that the sower represents God, the seeds represent the Word and the land represents the people. We are told of four types of land upon which the seeds fall. The first seeds fall along the path and are subsequently eaten by the birds. In this instance, outside forces take away any chance of true hearing. The seeds that fall upon the rocky ground and are eventually scorched by the sun represent those of us who immediately receive the Word with joy, but ultimately dismiss it. The seed that falls upon the thorny ground is eventually choked—this illustration represents those of us who have initially been receptive to the Word, but have in the end been overcome by our worldly desires. And then, there is the good soil—the soil which yields beyond our imagination. This soil represents those of us who have heard and understood God’s Word for us. The parable divides the land, and therefore the people into two main categories: those receptive to God’s Word and those unreceptive. Like the seeds that fall on unreceptive ground, the Word can fall on unreceptive ears. At first glance and at final consideration for many theologians and Biblical scholars, the so-called “Parable of the Sower” concerns how we hear and understand the Word of God. “Despite the traditional title of the parable as ‘the sower’, the real focus is the seeds and their yields,” writes Biblical scholar D. J. Harrington. “More important than the fate of the four different plantings is the contrast between the three unsuccessful plantings and the fourth superabundantly successful one.” If God is the sower, the Word is the seed, and the land is the people—the first and foremost question on everyone’s mind must be—what will be my yield? What self-reflecting Christian among us can stand without guilt in our hearts over when hearing this message? How often have we ignored the call to do God’s will and chosen the other path? How many of us suffer from what my mother calls “selective hearing”? In Cindy’s first Lenten Bonhoeffer class for the year, we began to discuss our own ideas of the “cost of discipleship.” How has being a follower of Christ affected our lives? Many of us agreed that discipleship came with a certain level of guilt—for in seeking to follow the will of God, we are constantly aware of our own shortcomings. And we who are prone to feelings of guilt and inadequacy will relish yet another opportunity to don the proverbial hairshirt—to identify and weed out that which has prevented us from hearing and doing God’s will. It seems an appropriate demand during this Lenten season. The season in which Jesus himself was tempted is indeed a season for self-reflection—a time during which many Christians around the world attempt to cast off, if only for a little while, the bad habits to which we are prone. A preacher could spend the duration of many sermons enumerating the ways in which we have closed our ears and hearts to the will of God. (Perhaps another time.) The parable in this light seems clear enough. But there is something unusual about the practice of the sower that must draw our attention elsewhere. Christian author Brian Stiller writes, “There is a question concerning the sower’s competence: Given the high cost of seed grain, why did this farmer not take better care to prevent the seed from falling in places he knew were unproductive?” Stiller finds two possible explanations for this quandry: “First, the sower does not sow equally in each of these four quadrants: The farmer would exercise great care to ensure that the seed was maximized, with little of it falling anywhere other than where good soil is located. Some seed, however, would occasionally fall on the first three types of soil. Second, this is a parable and the focus is not on the sower. In describing the types of soil inhospitable to the good news, Jesus is simply using this to shape his story.” While I agree with Stiller’s question (why did this farmer not take better care to prevent the seed from falling in unproductive places?), I find his explanations limited. If God is the sower—how can the story not be about God? Christ did not necessarily come down to earth solely to teach us something new about ourselves—he came to teach us something new about God! We must regard this text not merely as further explanation of the human condition but equally, if not more importantly, as the revelation of God—giving us access to the being and nature of our Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Should we think of our lives, our decisions and allegiances when we hear this story? Of course! But let us not forget to think of God! After all, attests scholar John Bright, our primary concern as Christians is to answer this fundamental question: “Who is this Christ, and what did he come to do?” Could God be the sower who intentionally sows the seed that is God’s Word throughout the land—regardless of the quality of the soil? On the night on which he was betrayed, Jesus took bread and broke it, saying, “this is my body broken for you,” and likewise he poured the wine, saying, “this is my blood shed for you.” He was well aware that one among them would hand him over to death that very night…and that the others would in some way deny him. And yet he said it: “this is my body, broken for you…this is my blood, shed for you.” He did not say, “this is my body, broken for him, him and him.” His life was given that all might have access to new life. Perhaps Christ knows who will and who won’t hear and understand the Word, just as the sower knows which land the seeds fall on…but, as the sower spreads the seeds across the ground, allowing them to land, wherever they mall fall…so to God gives us his Word—indiscriminately. This is our story—that though we did not deserve it, Jesus Christ came down for us. Lent is not only a time for genuine self-reflection, for acknowledging and remembering Christ’s temptation even as we remember our own, it is a time for remembering that his journey through the wilderness and to the cross was for us. Even for those of us with selective hearing. And the fruit of this Word has lead generations of Christians to stand before this table in remembrance of the one who took on death so that we might have new life in him. This is the terribly good news. I leave you with another rendition of this parable, as created by Barbara Brown Taylor. Let those that have ears listen to her beautiful interpretation of God’s Word. “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 aluminum foil all around his field. He put up a fake owl he ordered from a garden catalog and, as an afterthought, he hung a couple of traps for the Japanese beetles. “Then he returned to his sowing, but he noticed some of the seeds were falling on rocky ground, so he put his seed pouch down again and went to fetch 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 soon as he did he ran right into a briar patch that was sure to strangle his little seedlings. So he put his pouch down again and looked everywhere for the week poison but finally decided just to pull the thorns up by hand, which meant that he had to go back inside and look everywhere for his gloves. “Now by the time he had the briars cleared it was getting dark, so the sower picked up his pouch and his tools and decided to call it a day. That night he fell asleep in his chair reading a seed catalog, and when he woke the next morning he walked out into his field and found a big crow sitting on his fake owl. He found rocks he had not found the day before and he found new little leaves on the roots of the briars that had broken off in his hands. The sower considered all of this, pushing his cap back on his head, and then he did a strange thing: He began to laugh, just a chuckle at first and then a full-fledged guffaw that turned into a wheeze at the end when his wind ran out. “Still laughing and wheezing he went after 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 neighbors’ 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 that did not seem to matter, and he had to admit that he had never been happier in all his life. Let those who have ears to hear, hear.” |