Sowing seeds is an ancient image, but one that so many of us still relate to. I know that we have lots of gardeners in the Ascension ranks, so Jesus’ parable using planting and growing, good soil and poor soil, finds an immediate connection to our lives. And even if you aren’t a gardener, there is truth captured in this image–in the countless ways that our words and action sow seeds in the lives of others, and how the soil of our lives collects seeds that others cast our way. Some seeds grow, some don’t.
Parents and grandparents strive to plant seeds of goodness and grace in the lives of their children and grandchildren, hoping they will grow into loving and responsible adults. Teachers strive to sow seeds in their students, hoping they will produce a love for and commitment to knowledge, learning and exploration. Those who teach Sunday School or confirmation strive to plant seeds, hoping they take root in the hearts of young people, so they know how precious and loved they are.
During Ascension’s summer mission trips to Appalachia, I know some of the conversations in the evenings after a hard day of work or in the van on the way home deal with whether or not the seeds that were sown that week will produce any lasting change for families and communities we served, or if those seeds will just blow away, lost and forgotten.
There can be feelings of failure, disappointment, or frustration when it seems like the seeds we sow don’t find good soil. Yet St. Paul, in his letter to the Galatians reminds us that whether a seed takes off or not, whether it finds good soil or not, isn’t a burden we need to carry. We may plant the seeds, but it is the Spirit’s transformative presence that turns a seed into a plant that yields thirty-fold, sixty-fold, a hundred-fold. It is the Spirit’s indwelling–a gift received in the waters of baptism–that causes new life to spring from even the most dormant of seeds. And sometimes, it’s a long while before a seed is awakened. Sometimes we plant seeds knowing that we might not be around to see the green shoot emerge from the earth.
“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,” writes the author of Isaiah, “so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” God’s word is like never-failing precipitation. We trust the power of God’s word and the presence of God’s Spirit to cause seeds to sprout and grow, bringing forth fruit abundantly.
I love those words from the prophet about God’s promise to keep the covenant. But if we’re honest, they aren’t exactly based reality. Isaiah’s audience were people exiled, taken from their homeland. Their beloved city, Jerusalem, would never returned to its past glory. Faced with evil and suffering, how do we explain what God’s promises mean? In the midst of a pandemic and a nationwide racial justice reckoning, it is hard to trust. You might say that we have trust issues. It is hard to trust in the power of God’s word and the power of people like you and I to get through these dark days and help bring about real, lasting change. It is hard to trust that the seeds of today will ever bear the fruits of tomorrow. And then there are times when we ourselves find that our hearts are so hardened that God’s word won’t take root. There are times when our own soil is too rocky and stretched too thin for God’s grace to take hold. As we juggle the responsibilities of life in the midst of COVID-time, we feel caught in the thorns, hope and joy choked from us. We’re often tempted to look at the world and ourselves and only see the places that are inhospitable to God’s love.
There is an old Hasidic tale in which a student asks a Rabbi, “Why does God not lay the scripture inour hearts?” The rabbi said, “God knows our hearts are closed, so God’s word can only rest on our hearts. But when our hearts inevitably break, God’s word falls in.” Whatever the difficulty or turmoil, God’s word falls into our broken hearts, giving us peace, wisdom, and puts an end to the loneliness that comes in suffering. God’s Spirit–the Spirit of life–continues to speak to us and for us.
“For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace,” writes Isaiah. I know that each and every one of you are planting the seeds of God’s word in these uncertain times. The ways in which we have lived into our baptismal vocations and continued to sow God’s love through word and deed has been inspiring. Jesus’ parable is a vivid reminder of all God has and continues to overcome–rocks, scorching sun, thorns, and snatching–to bring life to the world. So we scatter seeds indiscriminately. You just never know where the seed of God’s loving kingdom will find good, receptive soil. Sometimes it happens in unlikely places. Always it takes root, waiting for the moment that God’s Spirit brings new life.