A shower of grace
Sermon on Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
Jesus tells us a parable. And that’s usually great for me as a preacher. Because usually, no one really knows what he is saying in those cryptic images and I can just interpret it wildly and no one will prove me wrong. Ha!
Well, this one time it’s different. Jesus basically took away my job. Jesus added all the explanations himself in a way even a three-year-old could grasp it. So, today, I could just read to you the second part of the Gospel again and be done with my sermon. I shortly thought about it. But then, hey, I enjoy preaching, so here we go.
It’s extremely straight forward at first. The seeds are always the same. Thrown out into any direction. There are no better or worse seeds here, they all have the potential to grow into something great. Which leaves us with the soil. It’s all about the soil.
Throw seeds on a path: people will hear the Word of God and just don’t get it. Evil has snatched it away from them.
Throw seeds on rocky ground. People will get easily and overly excited. And once things get a little messy and harder to deal with, once the honey-moon period is done with and it’s not sexy and hip anymore, they will walk away. Because it’s much more exciting to start something new and to watch its first baby-steps than maintaining buildings and dealing with gas lines and permits by the city. It’s much cooler to march with thousands of people than to protest with 20 or 50 people every week.
Throw seeds among thorns and someone will hear the message but turn away. Because he actually understands how radical the Gospel is and how much he would have to change his attitude and focus to follow Jesus. Because she actually understands that racial justice is more than a sign in the front year. It’s about giving up power and sharing resources and that’s hard.
And then, finally, there is the good soil. The one, we all group ourselves in, right? Since we are the people who listen to the Word of God very regularly and understand it. And like any good soil one can easily recognize us by the fruits we bear.
It’s extremely straight forward. Except that it isn’t. To the people listening to Jesus the parable made no sense at all. No sower in his right mind just throws out his seeds, not caring where he plants them. Especially not back then when you couldn’t just take a little trip to the Garden Center to buy as many seeds as you wanted. Back then, the seeds were the sower’s past and future. He had harvested and kept his own seeds and he would care for the precious seeds until they would bring fruit. Otherwise he and his family would starve. Of course, he threw them on the best soil possible. Anything else didn’t make any sense.
So, the sower Jesus describes is either a literary figure or a reckless sower. One where every bit of common sense is lost. One people just laugh about. It’s the prodigal sower. Lost in his own world, careless for the rules of this world.
Jesus explained a lot here. But there are quite a few blanks. Thank you, Jesus. You just gave me a reason to be here.
There are at least 2 ways to look at the reckless sower. One is to say: See, we have to be careful and strategic about developing our programs. We want to make sure that we only put in money into ideas that will pay off one day. No playing around. The soil has to be great first.
The other version is: Jesus says: just throw it out there. Just shower the world with God’s Word. That is grace and love abundantly. Without knowing what will happen. Just get invested even if it feels wasted.
Don’t hoard it for the right opportunity. Why? Maybe because we have such a hard time to figure out who is the good soil among the people we meet.
It’s a sower who showers the world with grace. Distributing into our lives all the good and beautiful things that are unearnable. All of them: Forgiveness, mercy, and endless second chances. The sun rising each day, a perfect peach in summer from my neighbor’s tree and love. So much grace every day. Just thrown out there, recklessly and hopeful.
The seeds are there in abundant numbers. Now it’s about the soil. It’s about us. And we will get our share of seeds. Everybody in the story does. That’s the heart of the story.
And the great question is: Where do we find God throwing us his abundant grace as little seeds of life and hope and change in the midst of our weariness?
Here is an unfinished list of where I saw some during the past few days.
When people stop to talk to neighbors passing by. Taking the time to really ask how everyone is doing. Deeply listening. That’s a seed of life. That we care for each other and see each other.
When my neighbor puts some home-made brownie on our doorsteps just for the joy of it and I take it in and smile and then have to share it with my family, oh well. And when my kids bake muffins or make banana milk or home-made lemonade and share it with the neighbors. And when they even give out our favorite chocolate as well. That’s a seed of life. That we share what we have.
When my friend sends me an Email and I somehow sense that this wasn’t really about the roses she was talking about but that she really needed some company and I go over one night and sit with her on her porch. When she plays the violin upon my arrival and sanitized a glass for me and shares her cider with me. That’s a seed of hope. That one day we will eat together again and hug each other again. But for now all we have is our distant presence and our stories we share.
When someone admits how hard it is to be alone all the time and how much it sucks to have a birthday all by herself. And friends come out to celebrate spontaneously. That’s a seed of hope. That we don’t forget each other. That it’s ok not to be ok and that there are friends out there to catch you.
When some of our friends’ kids organize and lead a Black Lives Matter protest in Berkeley. When a 9 and an 11-year-old mobilize all these great speakers to attend and lend their voices. When their 5-year-old sister rehearses the chants with the 100 protesters and dances around to the drum-beat of “No Justice, No Peace”. When even the New York Times publishes a video of the protest. That’s a seed of change. That younger generations already care. That parents talk to their kids about racial injustice and raise children who take responsibility. That no one is too young to speak out and even to be heard.
When our Book Club group has these great and honest conversations about all the blind spots we have as white Christians in a country where white Christians enslaved and lynched Black Christians. When we become vulnerable to each other and share our personal stories and our emotions and our discomfort. When we allow each other to ask hard questions and feel even closer afterwards. That’s the seed of change. That we can acknowledge our sins and repent them to become true advocates for peace.
Will all of these seeds fall on good soil? Probably not. Will they fall somewhere? Of course. That’s gravity. Will these seeds produce annual plants? Or maybe only a seasonal fruits? Which ones will be perennials?
At the beginning of this pandemic there was a lot of hope that we would come out of this changed. As individuals and as a society. By now it’s probably safe to say that we will. But it’s still on us how this change will look like. It’s still on us to help the seeds grow. To build relationships to our neighbors, to check-in with friends and family, to fight the pandemic fatigue. To not lose hope in the face of ever devastating cases and deaths. To do everything we can that this moment of sickness and despair stays a short moment in our lives. And too make sure that this moment of life and hope and change in our country becomes a movement. That it’s not eaten up by fear of change.
Let anyone with ears listen, Jesus says. Sounds about right and self-explanatory. Yet, physically hearing the words is not enough. Discernment or the ability to hear spiritually is necessary to understand God’s word. To listen with compassion. To listen to understand. To listen intentionally. With the intention to act. Active listening turns into activity. It opens my eyes and my heart and my soul. It piques my curiosity to keep on learning every day.
Jesus ends the parable by telling the crowd to listen not only to understand, but also to act on the teaching, to obey, and in this particular case, to participate in the manifestation of God’s kingdom on the earth. In justice and peace for all. Forever. Let anyone with ears listen. Amen.
