I
wonder what we focus on when we hear this parable. A lot of treatments of this parable focus on
the dangers and the failures: birds who devour (a la Hitchcock?), paucity of
soil, scorching sun, choking thorns. And
they’re real. There are dangers and in
the world. But they can’t dominate our
focus. Because as we heard two weeks ago
on the Feast of Ss. Peter and Paul, if even the gates of Hell assail the
Church, they will not prevail. As the
Sermon of the Mount ends, even if we’re on rocky ground, buffeted by storms,
our house will not fail. As St. John
XXIII put it, the prophets of doom have had their say, and the Church has found
them wanting.
No,
our focus can’t be the dangers and the failures, not if we’re to listen as
women and men with hope to bring. We
could focus instead on the sower. The
sower can be (and has been) identified with so many different ways God pours
out grace to us. We could read the sower
as God the Father, and the seed as Christ.
We could read the sower as Christ, and the seed as his teaching. We could read the sower as every Christian,
and the seed as their proclamation. The Odes of Solomon, the earliest Christian
hymnal we have, has God exclaim: “I sowed my fruits in their hearts and
transformed them through myself.”
However we identify the sower, one thing is clear: he’s prodigal,
spendthrift, extravagant. He keeps on
sowing. He knows no caution, doesn’t
think there’s anywhere not worth sowing.
He’ll throw his seed in the most unlikely places. He refuses to give up on the most
unproductive looking soil. Just like
God’s grace, flowing, anointing the outskirts, the margins, the dark places, of
our world and of our souls. He sows his
fruits and nothing is incapable of transformation.
We
could also focus on the harvest. Despite
all the dangers and failures along the way, the harvest is mighty, it’s lavish,
it’s splendid. In places: a hundred fold
harvest. Now, there’s a whole scholarly
cottage industry devoted to working out quite how good that is. But, that
needn’t concern us here, the only conclusion we need is: it’s good. As Isaiah reminds us, God’s word goes out and
will fulfill his will. The divine word
does work out the Creator’s purpose. The
only other 100-fold harvest we read of in scripture, is Isaac’s all the way
back in Genesis, a harvest specifically named as a sign of God’s blessing for
the one who would continue the line of God’s chosen people.
Yes,
the harvest is lavishly abundant. In
just the same way, the victory of God over all that keeps us from joyous life
in communion with each other and with Him… that victory is sure. But, just like a seed germinating, right now
this victory can be silent, mysterious, unavailable to superficial
observation. St. Paul is well aware of
the tension of this moment in history.
We know how generous our sower is, we know how lavish the harvest will
be, but we’re still waiting, there’s still suffering to be waited through. We’re eager, because the harvest we
anticipate isn’t here yet, not fully.
One translation of Romans puts it that all creation is standing on
tiptoes to see the children of God come into our own.
Because
we have been claimed by God for something other than sin and death. In baptism, we died and rose with him. But, we live in a world that hasn’t gotten
the memo yet. Many of you will know that
it’s two weeks since I last presided at a public Mass, and that that’s because
a week and a half ago, I was in a hospital bed.
I’m on the mend… I’ll be honest: it’s frustrating how slow it is for me
to get my strength back, but I’m not sick
anymore. I had, and have, plenty of time
to groan within myself, to use Paul’s language, while I await the redemption of
my body. The very next paragraph of Paul’s
letter the Romans will proclaim divine solidarity with our groaning: the Spirit
groans with us, and that’s prayer. God
Himself groans. In our waiting, our
eager waiting, for the harvest which we only have in first installment, God is
with us.
And
that’s the vital truth that Matthew bookends his gospel with, that we always
need to keep in mind as we read these stories from Jesus’ earthly
ministry. In nativity account, the angel
assures us the Jesus is Immanuel, God-with-us.
After his resurrection, Jesus himself assures us, as he commissions us
to go out proclaiming him to all nations, that he is with us, unto the
end of the age. We don’t have to rely solely
on memory of God’s extravagant sowing or solely on anticipation of the lavish
harvest, we can dwell in the here and now of God’s divine accompaniment, that
all suffering, all pain and sorrow, is transformed by the knowledge that Christ
suffered with us and for us, and he is with us, with us as we wait, holding us
up as we peer over the horizon on our tiptoes.
And the sight waiting to meet us is glorious.
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