We know that Jesus liked to use parables as part of his teaching toolkit. A parable is an open-ended story designed to engage its hearers and move their minds and hearts beyond where they have been until now. They can have an unexpected twist and frequently end with a question. Scripture scholars have made it clear that the gospels were not dictated by Jesus to the evangelists. They picked and chose what they felt was important for their listeners and, later, their readers. And they added their own spin. Much of the commentary on the parables that Jesus told was added later as the gospels were edited to address issues in the community for whom the gospel was put into its final, written form.

One of the most popular of these teaching tales was the parable of the sower and the seeds. It appears in all three synoptic gospels (Mark 4:3-9; Matthew 13:4-9; Luke 8:5-8). It is usually placed first among Jesus’ parables, so the evangelists who did the editing seemed to have thought it had a clearly vital message. Perhaps because they themselves experienced in their ministry what Jesus taught through this parable.

It goes like this: a farm worker went out to plant a crop of grain. The method used was what was later described as broadcasting. Take a handful of seeds and fling them out with a wide sweeping motion as you walk along. Afterward, a plowman would come along and loosen the soil to better receive and to germinate the seeds. Even if you were very careful and accurate with your broadcasting, inevitably some seed would land on ground that wasn’t suitable for growing grain.

Jesus continues. Some of the seed fell on a path that lined, or maybe even cut across, the field. Some seed fell on patches that had so much rock and stone that it wasn’t reasonable to even try to clear it all. Some seed fell among thorns – those tough, stubborn weeds whose own seeds blew in from everywhere. Some seed (hopefully most of it!) fell on good soil.

What happened to these seeds? The seed that fell on the well-traveled and beaten path was easy food for the birds or was trampled by the passersby. The seed that fell among the rocks and stones sprouted and sent up its shoots very quickly, because there was no depth to the soil there. The blazing sun burned up the tender plants almost as quickly as they appeared. The seed that fell among the thorns couldn’t compete with those defiant botanical bullies. They sprouted, but got overwhelmed by the competition. The seed that fell on the good soil grew abundantly according to the richness of the nutrients and the timeliness of the rains.

What’s clearly behind this farming tale is what Jesus experienced in his own ministry. Some people got his message and some people didn’t. Some people were too indoctrinated with a hardened mindset and couldn’t even take it in. Some were unable to receive the message because the religious authorities, or their relatives and friends, with persistent opposition, ridicule and critiquing, took away the possibility for them to give the message a fair hearing. Some were shallow. They liked the gentle, beautiful words about love, but couldn’t stand the challenging parts of Jesus’ message (e.g. the consequences of loving to the end, no matter what). Some people enthusiastically embraced the novelty of the message and all the energy around Jesus, but never really took it, or him, seriously. After a time, the fad wore thin and was replaced by other more interesting or entertaining distractions. Some people were able to hear Jesus out – the whole message – and bought into it (both the beautiful and the difficult aspects of it) with their lives. They became abundantly fruitful witnesses of the truth that Jesus was telling and living.

The later commentary identifies the seed as the Word of God. Who “gets it”? Who is able to hear and take to heart the message of God’s love, personally embodied in Jesus himself? Anyone who tries to live and proclaim this message will face the same responses. There is so much that hinders us from wholeheartedly receiving and living out the kind of egoless love that Jesus is! The great twentieth-century German theologian, Karl Rahner, once wrote that the biggest challenge to faith today is everyday life in the world – with all its struggles and suffering. Faith in God and in the Good News of Jesus embraces all that is, and all that can and will be – possibilities we can’t even imagine. Which type of seed are you?

Have you thought about plowing fields lately? Plowmen, holding a straight line to have the furrows as close to each other as possible, determined how abundant a crop one might raise. Those tight furrows could make the difference between a farmer having enough grain to sell to keep his family well-provided for or not. This was especially tricky if you were fortunate enough to have access to an ox or donkey, which tended to go their own way, pulling the plow, Plowing without computers, GPS, and all our modern machinery with its advanced technology was a skill and an art.

Jesus, who worked with wood and stone in his trade, perhaps had made several plows by hand. He knew which wood was better for this implement. He knew the importance of shape, the need to smooth the wood, removing bark, splinters and rough patches, and how to hone the wooden point so that it would more easily drive through soil and yet would not shatter when it came up against the myriad stones that populated the land.  He obviously was a keen observer of nature and of the workings of agriculture. Just look at how many of his parables speak of growing, of soils, of seeds – of working the land!

In the Gospel of Luke (Luke 9:61-62), at the very end of the ninth chapter, a potential disciple boldly declares to Jesus: “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me go say goodbye to my family back home.” Jesus responds with a strong image: “No one who sets a hand to the plow and keeps looking back is a good fit for God’s Kingdom.” Another translation is “looks to what was left behind.” How can you raise an abundant crop if you are constantly looking over your shoulder? It’s impossible to cut straight, deep, clean furrows if you’re not watching where you’re going.

Where are our eyes and energies fixed?  On what was, or on what might yet be? Jesus is saying that life moves forward. There is no time for nostalgia, for pining for the “good old days” – which is usually an idealization that filters out all the hardships, difficulties and problems that are part of every age.  There can be a sense of security in keeping our focus on what has been. (Though security is an illusion.) We’ve already faced and dealt with that stuff, and survived, if not thrived through it all. It’s familiar, not fearfully unknown. If memories hold us in the past, they possess us. Hope doesn’t reside in the past, only in the future. We remember what God has done before and trust that the Holy Spirit hasn’t run out of creativity or gracious surprises. Jesus urgently invites us to move forward with him in building the Kingdom. Don’t look back!

Jesus invites us to become like little children – spontaneous, filled with wonder, super-trusting, open, eager to learn and to grow. Jesus, though, is not encouraging childishness. Children love to play. It’s their way to explore the world, to learn the rules of how things work and how to be with others. 

When we “play games” with others: when we don’t deal with them openly, honestly, fairly, when we manipulate and use twisted emotions to get our own way, we are NOT being like little children. We are behaving like spoiled brats. This is not playful, but destructive, and self-destructive.

Sometimes we might find ourselves playing games with the divine. This is not very healthy for our relationship with God. One common game we could try is hide and seek. We pretend that God can’t find us, especially when we are doing something that we consider bad or sinful. (Remember the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden.) As if there is any place apart from God who is here, everywhere. Maybe we think that if we keep God out of our consciousness, God can’t see us. Like little children who cover their eyes and declare, “You can’t see me now!” As if we can keep God “in the dark.”

It can also be that we imagine God playing hide and seek with us. We can feel that God is an expert at this game – hidden and impossible to find. God certainly can be silent, which is disconcerting in our world of uninterrupted noise. But God is always there, even when we can’t sense God’s loving presence. When we believe this, God emerges from the shadows. This is not necessarily consoling, because it may seem to us that no one or nothing is “there.” God is playful, but God doesn’t play games