Wrestling with the Heavenly Mysteries Given to Us
The Parable of the Sower of Seed is given the lead-off spot in all three of of the Gospels (Mark, Matthew, and Luke) that make direct reference to Jesus’ use of parables. Being placed in that predominant position, we might well consider it to be the watershed parable, out of which the great themes of Jesus’ life and teaching and ministry flow and, subsequently, how we might better listen for and see God’s presence and activity not only at work in our own lives but also in the life of the world around us.
There is a danger, however, in being often a little too accustomed to thinking that we can assume that we generally know what the scriptures and Jesus is all about. Familiarity can be misleading and can create blinders preventing us from hearing perspectives beyond our own. Sometimes when we entertain that which we assume is familiar, because we have heard it all before, we often turn off the deep listening ears of our hearts and our minds. [A brief but very pertinent aside: The Parable of the Sower of Seeds is one of only two of Jesus’ parables which is given any kind of formal explanation in the Gospel accounts. We should be equally wary of being overly accepting of the familiarity we may have with these predominantly allegorical explanations, lest we stop listening to the parable itself in its own telling.]
So, to the Parable of the Sower of Seeds…
A farmer, we are told, scatters seed, casting it onto four different types of ground. Some of the seed falls on the open road, other seed upon rocky ground, some among bramble, and the remainder into rich dark soil. What might Jesus, in the telling of this story, be tossing out to our side to turn us from thinking it is anything but straight-forward advice? If we do think about this from the general perspective of a famer trying to raise crops in a predominantly desert land, well…nothing makes much sense at all here. Would a farmer so rashly scatter valuable seed as depicted in this story? Obviously, Jesus is not really introducing us to sensible farming practices.
Following the telling of this parable, Jesus’ disciples asked about the meaning of this story. Rather cryptically, Jesus replies that what if being offered in the parables is “the mystery of the kingdom of God.” Aside from mystery novels, wherein the likes of folk like Sherlock Holmes solve intriguing cases through the investigation of clues (and, I might add, the rather misleading English translations which equate mysteries with “secrets”), the mysteries Jesus refers to are so much more. Like the great mysteries of life and love, we can easily conclude that the mysteries of God are colossally unintelligible and possess a depth beyond knowing. However, such mysteries also possess an alluring character which draw us in, inviting curiosity and wonder. Whatever else Jesus wants us to know about the presence and experience of God’s activity among us in the world, it is best understood to be, first of all, a mystery. As such, maybe the best way to come to terms with the meaning of the parables is to continue to ask questions of them, open questions without need of any definitive answers.
So, setting aside whatever agricultural astuteness we may actually possess, let’s ask: What might seed scattered indiscriminately everywhere and not just in some particular places be saying to us? About God and God’s activity and presence in this world?
Let’s, however, set those questions in the context of what were and can be some largely parochial understandings of God. Parochial, deriving from the Greek word “para-oikos”, has a prefix which means - as in “para”-ble - “beside” or “next to”. The root of the word, “oikos”, simply means household, and can be found as a prefix in such English words as economical or ecological making reference to the rules or the logic by which the systems of our national or global “households” operate. Thus, what might seed universally and indiscriminately scattered be saying about localized (denominational, national) ideas and attitudes in regards to the mystery of God? What might it be saying about our fears of never having enough? Of living, perhaps willingly incognizant, of being determined by a scarcity mindset?
[Another aside: If there is a word adopted by the Church to get us unmoored from our parochial mindsets, it is the word “catholic”. Rightfully understood as universal, transliterated from the Greek, the word is “kata-holos.” The prefix “kata” means “according to”; and the root “holos” gives us such English words as wholeness or holistic. Thus, to be catholic is be in accordance with the whole enchilada.]
Reclaiming our agricultural know-it-all, what might the smallness of the seed be telling us about our sometimes dominant expectation that good things come in large packages? Sequoia trees, the largest trees in the world, can grow to over 300 feet in height and measure 26 feet around at their base. If we knew nothing about seeds and we were handed a package of 25 sequoia seeds all told weighing in at .006 ounces for the lot of them, could any of us imagine what would come of those in time? What is the mysterious potentiality of seemingly insignificant seed already present everywhere trying to get us to hear and live by?
Going further, what might the invisibility of the seed buried in soil - in contrast to the openly-evident unburied seed - be trying to communicate to us? Given our druthers, wouldn’t we prefer something a bit more apparent, louder, substantial, even sensational to capture and occupy our attention? What else in our faith tradition speaks of getting unceremoniously buried away? Frederick Buechner, one of the great spiritual writers of our time, expressed wonder about how long we might remain enamored of getting up every morning and having the clouds greet us with a message from God assuring us that we are not alone and that we are loved. How many days, weeks, or months, he wondered, before we would grow bored and unimpressed even by that.
Again, setting aside our agricultural acumen, what do we make of the fact that, once the seed is scattered in the story Jesus lies beside us, nobody tends to or gives any further mind to the plight of the seed? What are we to make of the fact that, left to work entirely on its own merit, it actually works! And with it, a harvest, way beyond what any of us in our wisdom might have predicted.
Now, putting on our environmental and ecological insights, might the birds, who consume some of the scattered seed in our story, be playing an essential part in the success of the harvest. (Be careful here, as an all-too-familiar reliance upon Jesus’ supposed allegorical explanation of this parable will only close the blinders on us.) What if the birds, or anything else in this story, have only positive things to contribute to the abundant harvest to which it moves? What might this be saying to us about our perceived notions of misfortune? Our perceived notion of opposition? Our perceived enemies?
Lastly, at least in the confines of this article, what do we make of the fact that the seed in producing a rich and abundant harvest doesn’t actually do anything to bring that harvest about? The fruit of the harvest comes about simply because the seed is being seed. The fruit is depicted as not so much the result of any frantic effort on their part, but just the most natural outcome of what they were created to be. How very mysterious…