15 OT A ~ Mt 13:1-23 ~ "The Sower" ~ Susan McGurgan, D.Min.

The landscape of our childhood shapes us,

in deep and often surprising ways.

The exact color

of green on the hillside,    

the way sunlight

slants across the yard in winter,   

the very soil beneath our feet

teaches us

as profoundly as any textbook.

I grew up in a land of red clay.

Not brown soil.  

Not black dirt.  

Not ruddy hued earth,

but Red.

Red clay.

Now,

this was no timid soil,

content to blend into the background

or be taken for granted.   

No,

this red menace was an entity—

a beast.

It was soil with an attitude.

It left tracks on beige carpets

and stained concrete foundations.

It embedded itself

into the warp and weft of play clothes

and indelibly marked white football jerseys,

blue jean knees,

and the sitting down parts of shorts.  

Laundry duty

required steely resolve

and a very strong bleach.

 This soil defied all but

the hardiest Bermuda grass

and made gardening an Olympic level sport.

Maybe that’s why I love this parable so much.

Troublesome soil—

Hardscrabble dirt—

Thorny places—

Landscapes that bite back—

this world is baked into my DNA.  

This parable of the sower, the seeds, and the soil

can be interpreted in a variety of ways.

We can look at it

from the perspective of soil.

There is rocky ground,

where the soil is poor and thin.

Seeds scattered there may germinate,

but scorch and wither before new life

even has a chance. 

There is soil covered in brambles,

where seeds are choked out by briars

and surrounded by thorns.  

Other dirt becomes a hardpacked pathway,

useful for travel,

but not so handy for crops.

And then, there is rich soil--

fertile land teeming with nutrients

and filled with busy earthworms--

land just waiting to be tilled, planted, and harvested.

Can we see ourselves somewhere in this parable?

Is our spiritual life rich, receptive,

ripe for a miraculous harvest?  

Or is our spiritual landscape thin,

rocky

prickly,

complicated by brambles

and filled with thorns?

Are we soil with an attitude?

Or maybe,

we find ourselves dwelling

outside the field altogether,

on a pathway leading to no place in particular.

There is much to be said for this interpretation,

and it invites us

to reflect on how ready we are

to receive the Good News—

how ready we are

to embrace God’s blessings and gifts

and share a Kingdom harvest with the world.  

But what about the sower--

that reckless figure

who flings seeds with such careless abandon?

This business of throwing seeds

into brambles,

onto pathways,

on top of rocky soil

is inefficient.

Imprudent.

Wasteful.

Is this a farmer or jokester?  

Is this a careful steward

or a heedless spendthrift?

Now, historians will point out that

farming techniques in first century Judea

may have involved tilling

AFTER

seeds were scattered.

In this type of planting,  

farmers broadcast seed,

and what fell into the fields was plowed under.

The rest was simply ignored.

They would argue,

“There's nothing to see here,

this parable reflects business as usual.”  

Maybe so,  

but I don’t think Jesus is giving us a farm report,

or reminding us of traditional planting techniques.  

No,

there seems to be something daring,

lavish,

incautious,

over-the-top profligate  

about this sower

who casts seeds

without ration or measure

and doesn’t seem to care--

not even a little--

how many might be wasted, lost, or ruined.

This sower is no bean counter.  

Seeds on the pathway?

Why not?

Seeds in the brambles?

Here, have some more!

Seeds upon rocks for birds to eat?

Yes, please!

Maybe this open-handed generosity

Invites us to consider the ways we  

tamp down,

minimize,

control,  

hoard,

or otherwise try to micromanage God’s gifts.  

Maybe it reminds us of the times  

our communities echo to the tune of:   

“We’ve tried that, it doesn’t work.”

“We are wasting time trying to reach THOSE people.”

“It’s not cost efficient. There’s no ROI.”

Maybe it teaches us that God’s bounty,

God’s invitation,

God’s blessing,

continues to rain down lavishly,

endlessly,

without measure,

without ration,   

on fertile plains,

rocky soil,

brambly thorn patches,

hardscrabble pathways,

soil with an attitude...

and us!

Maybe it invites us to open our hands

and enlarge our vision.

Because with a sower such as this,

how can our harvest fail?