Dirty, Seedy, Fruitful

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

In Mark and Luke’s version of this story, Jesus explicitly tells his disciples that “The seed is the word of God.” That would make us…yup, you guessed it, the dirt.

There are four specific types of dirt, or soil, mentioned in this parable: there’s the path, hard packed, trampled upon, and the seed/word which falls upon it is quickly removed; there’s the rock, the word only breaks the surface level, but it doesn’t become rooted in anything, no deep understanding, and storms quickly wash these withered words away; there’s the thorn and weed infested soil, overgrown with bad influences, where the word is mocked, choked, and its potential is stunted; then there’s the fertile ground, ah beautiful, prosperous, soil.

Now…you might be thinking I’m going to ask you to fess up to feeling like one particular type of soil or another. And you’d be wrong. I’m going to ask you to fess up to having felt like all of them at one point or another. I’m sure there’ve been times when your faith was flourishing and fruitful. But there have also been times when you’ve felt trampled underfoot, hard packed and pecked at, unable to hold onto hope. There have been times when you’ve simply taken the Word of God at a literal, shallow, surface level meaning, responded to it with enthusiasm, but really not let it sink in very deep. And I’m also there have been times when you’ve felt mocked or made fun of for your faith, when you’ve felt choked out by the whims of the world.

But that’s Mark and Luke wanting us to feel…dirty…I suppose. In Matthew’s version, however…it’s not so clear that Jesus wants us to feel like dirt, but rather…Matthew’s Jesus wants us to feel “seedy”…or like the seed. We are the ones who are being planted in this world, we are the ones whom God wants to grow, and we grow up in all sorts or surroundings. In this interpretation, if you’re here, worshiping, you’re flourishing and fruitful. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t bounced off of hard-packed paths, or been washed from a rocky slab, or felt choked and suppressed for your faith at some point in your life.

Whether you relate more to being dirty or seedy, here are some questions I want you to consider and discuss those sitting closest to you:

• What makes your faith feel : (1) trampled and pecked at; (2) too shallow, (3) choked out by your surroundings?

• When and Why have you ever felt like your faith was flourishing and fruitful?

How many of you are farmers or garden people…or even lawn people? What have you got to do to the soil before you plant? Aerate…or…make it hole-y, full of holes. You’ve got to prepare the ground to receive the seed. You’ve got to soften the soil, remove the rocks. And after that? You’ve got to water and nourish and tend to what you’ve planted. You’ve got to pull weeds and prune. Think about this. Fruitful, fertile soil is vulnerable soil. It is loose packed, easily washed away, easily “infested” with weeds.

Here’s another interesting point that has been pointed out, time and again, about this parable. What kind of gardener scatters seed like the one in this parable? Reckless and willy-nilly. This sower seems to care less where the seed falls, takes no time to soften the soil or clear it of weeds or rocks…just scatters seed as if seeds were a limitless resource. Take a moment…do you ever treat your faith like it’s a commodity? Like it could run out at any moment? Do you ever treat love or forgiveness like that? Do you ever look at a person and think, “Well…there’s a giant rock if I’ve ever seen one, that person deserves none of my love or forgiveness and I’d be better off not wasting any of it on them”?

Because here is the bottom line, that’s not how God looks at us. God scatters seed everywhere. Fertile soil, rocks, thorns, even upon paths on which the evil one treads…covered in seed. Maybe this is not a story about dirt, nor a story about seeds and how they are grown; what if this is a parable about God’s love and grace and how they are sown?

What if, no matter where you come from or where you are right now, you could rest assured knowing that you will still be inundated with love and grace in due season? That’s the thing about sowing and harvesting, right? It’s not just a one-time thing…it’s a seasonal thing. A gardener sows every year. I like to think that this is why we can really dig into to this parable, because we have seen many seasons of faith: those which have been fruitful, and those which have been frustrating, and those which have blossomed in hope, and those which have been dry and desolate. Sometimes we’ve had years of hope and harmony followed by years of catastrophe and challenge. Other times we’ve had seasons of sickness followed harvests of health. God never stops sowing, we never stop growing.

This reminds me a lot of the sacrament of Holy Communion. We don’t just visit this table once. God never stops meeting us here, inviting us here, scattering love and grace willy-nilly, no matter the month we’ve had. God invites us here whether we feel trampled or betrayed, whether we feel shallow, or hypocritical, whether we feel like we’re suffocating or being shamed by secular culture. We do this again and again in remembrance of a limitless love and a grace that never runs out. We return to be fed in the hopes that we meet God here at a point when our lives, our hearts, our minds are fertile and fruitful. And when we become fruitful…do we not also become bearers of seed, too?

Think about the life of our church now. Remember all the seasons and harvests it’s seen. I’m sure there have been seasons of struggle you’re surprised to have survived, but:

• What have been some of your favorite seasons? Where are we now?

• What will this next harvest bring? What worries you? What gives you hope?

Whatever your worries, whatever your hopes, you are invited by God to be fed at a table where our remembrance of Christ promises to make manifest the fruits of the Spirit in our harvest. It’s not about dirt, it’s not about us; it’s about God, and the grace God sows. Come, take and eat. Let it be grown in you.

Amen.