The Soil Police - Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Do you remember when we first started to wrap our minds around the virus and its implications for daily life? For those of us lucky enough to be able to stay and work from home in the interest of safety, there was a lot of talk about what to do with the all the free time we thought we’d have. It seemed like an amazing opportunity to accomplish things. People talked about home improvement projects and exercise, and even more ambitious endeavors like learning a new language. Some folks made spiritual goals, like spending more time in prayer and meditation. There was a kind of optimism that once this thing is over, those untouched by the virus would emerge from lock down with homes, bodies, and spiritual lives all in better shape. How these goals are going varies quite a bit, of course, but I have noticed on evening walks that the yards in my little neighborhood have had more love and care. 

If, by chance, some of your ambition has evaporated as the pandemic has gone on, you are not alone. People are reporting significantly higher levels of stress, anxiety, depression, fear, and feelings of isolation, to name a few. I also recently heard someone talk about “Covid-thinking” - a phenomenon in which our brains feel a little less sharp than usual and our ability to make decisions feels off-kilter. Most everyone I know realized pretty quickly that a long, bucolic stay-cation at home was not going to be the reality of the situation. These are difficult times, whatever your circumstances. And times like these can really shift how we see things, for better or worse. 

On the worse side, you’d have to be living under a rock to not notice the uptick in how divisive everything has become. We are fighting over mask wearing, whether and how to open schools, the safety of protests and political rallies, and whether restaurants are doable. And it’s not just that we disagree about these questions, it’s that as a society we are all too eager to demonize the other side on any given question. We seem to have lost our ability to reason through differences of opinion, and take in new information that might cause us to change our minds. You don’t need a preacher to tell you any of this, but sometimes we do like to point out the obvious. And I’m as guilty as the next person of being judgy these days. Which is why, I think, the parable of the sower got under my skin this week and caused a bit of discomfort, one of Jesus’ specialities. One thing I’ve learned about scripture is that when it makes you uncomfortable, it’s usually nudging you toward something that you still need to learn. 

We hear the parable of the sower and think its meaning is pretty obvious. Jesus even explains this one, which is very rare for him. It’s a seemingly straightforward story about a farmer whose scattered seed falls into four situations: some on the road, some on rocky ground, some among thorns, and some on good ground. The sower must be God or Jesus, we figure. And then we wonder what kind of soil we are, ranging from good to rocky. But a problem quickly arises with this parable. We tend to get a little fixated on the soil. And, we think of ourselves as pretty insightful when it comes to knowing what kind of soil other people are. In my head, I have a list of people, outside of Christ Church, of course, who are about as insightful as an asphalt road, don’t you? Seeds that land on them will have a hard time. And I have a list of people I look up to, who seem to exhibit the qualities of fertile soil and the wisdom that comes with it. Truth be told, we kind of fancy ourselves the soil police, eager to categorize people into one of the four types listed in the story. Take, for example, someone who is wearing a mask over their mouth but below their nose. This offends those who are pro mask and those who are anti mask, and it gives us satisfaction to asses exactly which category Jesus would put them in in the parable. We want to read this parable as a parable of judgment, especially if we get to be the judge. 

But the parable is not about the four types of ground, or four types of people, not really anyway. It’s about the sower. It should be noted that this sower happens to be a reckless one. He scatters seed with wild abandon, with total disregard for the worthiness of the ground on which the seeds fall. It would be like planting grass seeds in my yard and flinging some into the trash can, or onto the roof, into the dog’s water, literally anywhere. By all earthly accounts, this would be a very bad way to farm or garden, even wasteful. But that wild abandon with which the sower slings seeds is the point of the story, and it’s meant to grab our attention.

Slinging seeds so widely and wildly is an act of hope and joy. God is flinging the seeds of the kingdom everywhere. And what are seeds? They are the opportunity for transformation. The kingdom of God is all around us, sometimes in mature growth but other times as small as a seed, but it’s there, everywhere, just the same. The word of God, the kingdom of God, the son of God is readily at hand for each one of us, regardless of our worthiness or lack of it, or our level of spiritual sophistication. God is extravagant, wasteful, and thorough. The parable presents us with a choice - we can get absorbed in scrutinizing one another’s soil type, not to mention the shortcomings of our own, or we can look to the sower and his seeds all around, and begin our transformation and growth. Far from being a parable of judgment, the story of the sower is really a parable of joy, and an invitation to enter more fully into the kingdom of God. 

And one last word about seeds. Aren’t they miraculous? Despite their small size, they contain everything needed for life and abundance. I will confess to you that I have not done all the things I set out to do when we started staying home in March. I have cleaned out a closet or two, but mostly I’ve thrown up my hands about the rest. But I did plant a few seeds. There is a fledgling cherry tomato plant, along with jalapeños and basil. I had the wrong kind of soil on hand, the wrong pots, and not a great spot to put them in. And they are thriving anyway. I check on them every day and marvel at the miracle of what God put in the seeds. I marvel at their ability to grow despite my shortcomings in tending them. Jesus once said, that’s exactly how the kingdom of God works, too.