Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
“The seed sown on rich soil is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.” Mt. 13:23
Sowing.
Growing.
Listening.
These are the three “actions” Matthew’s gospel emphasizes in today’s parable. But the setting in which they originally occurred is vastly different from the world in which you and I live.
Today’s Christianity enjoys the status of a dominant world religion with well over a billion people now calling themselves “Christian.” This was not the situation when Matthew’s gospel was written. Quite the contrary!
Instead, this gospel was written at a time when the message of Jesus of Nazareth was in its infancy stage of being received and debated. It was also originally addressed to fishermen and farmers with no formal education – not city dwellers or airplane travelers or possessors of advanced degrees.
Yet, the message is timeless.
When we unpack what Jesus says in this parable, it still resonates in our own time and in our own life situation.
For example, take the idea of “sowing.” In the gospel story, we discover that the farmer in the tale sows the seed with wild abandon and unfocused aim. The seed goes everywhere – on the path and in the thorny patch, on rocky ground and into rich topsoil.
The gospel message of Jesus Christ is still doing that. The seed, the Word of God, is still preached and taught in every corner of the world. The belief that mercy and compassion, forgiveness and peace for those who are maligned and discarded by society is still emphasized and promoted throughout the world.
But, like in the early church, not all these efforts bear fruit. In many ways, the voice of the gospel is diminished and dismissed, and seen as irrelevant and impractical – even by those who attend Christian churches.
A priest tells this story:
He said he received a phone call from a very irate father who told him: “I hold you personally responsible for this!”
The father was angry because his newly graduated daughter had decided, in his words, “to throw it all away and go do mission work in Haiti. She has a master’s degree and she’s going off to dig ditches in Haiti! I hold you personally responsible for this!”
“Why me? asked the priest. The father said, “You filled her mind with all this religious stuff.” The priest responded saying, “Weren’t you the one who had her baptized?”
“Well, yes,” said the father, “but what does that have to do with anything?”
“And didn’t you send her to our parish school when she was a little girl?”
“Well, yes,” said the father.
“And didn’t you allow your daughter to go on those trips to Appalachia when she was in high school?”
“Well, yes. I thought it would look good on her resume. Again, what does that have to do with anything?”
The priest then said: “You’re the reason she’s throwing it all away. You introduced her to Jesus, not me.”
“But,” protested the father, “all we wanted was for her to be raised Catholic.”
In the process, she became a disciple.
Then there’s the matter of “growing.”
We all know people who are avid gardeners. I’m always amazed at the time and effort they put into tilling the soil, removing the rocks, planting the seeds, fussing about those *&#* rabbits, and making sure their precious plants are adequately watered. It seems like such an enormous dedication of time and energy.
But then the miracle happens! A beautiful group of ripe, juicy tomatoes are produced!
Jesus’ parable echoes this same process – except that his version involves a more realistic view of life. Jesus knew what all farmers and gardeners know:
Good environments yield healthy plants; bad environments yield little or nothing.
It is not much of a leap to see this as a lesson of faith for us. Those in good soil hear the word of God and hold it fast. Others fall victim to weeds and rocks and end up producing little or nothing.
This, then, becomes the true goal of those who see themselves as followers of Jesus:
Make every effort to provide the good soil of love and joy and hope to help people nurture faith in their hearts and in those of their families.
The third of the “actions” Jesus emphasizes is possibly the most important of all:
Listening.
Our ears become the soil of a life of faith. Listening becomes a spiritual practice. In our busy 24/7, social media-dominated world, we are often distracted, unaware, or even resistant to the words of Jesus Christ. We can become so preoccupied by worldly concerns that the “weeds” of our culture choke out the gospel for us.
To live without listening – to be unfocused and inattentive – easily deafens us to the voice of the One who calls us to new life, to deep, eternal values, to the development of a heart nurtured by God.
The listening life becomes spiritually mature because it hears clearly and follows the voice of God’s Spirit both within us and among us all.
To borrow the words of Jesus:
Listening enables us to “hear the word and understand it.”
The miracle for us is that we will then “bear fruit … a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.”
Ted Wolgamot, Psy.D.
NOTE: Fr. Richard Rohr offers the following words concerning this time of crisis being a teachable moment:
“There’s no doubt that this period of time will be referred to for the rest of our lifetimes. We have a chance to go deep, and to go broad. Globally, we’re in this together. Depth is being forced on us by great suffering, which as I like to say, always leads to great love.
But for God to reach us, we have to allow suffering to wound us. Real solidarity needs to be felt and suffered. That’s the real meaning of the word “suffer” – to allow someone else’s pain to influence us in a real way.
What is going to happen to those living in isolated places or for those who don’t have health care? Imagine the fragility of the most marginalized, of people in prisons, the homeless, or even the people performing necessary services, such as EMT’s, nurses, and doctors, risking their lives to keep society together? Our feelings of urgency and devastation are not an exaggeration: they are responding to the real human situation.
We’re not pushing the panic button. We are the panic button.
Love always means going beyond yourself to otherness. It takes two – the lover and the beloved. We must be stretched to an encounter with otherness, and only then do we know its love.
Love alone overcomes the fear and is the true foundation that lasts (1 Corinthians 13:13)”