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July 13, 2008 sermon

How Does Your Garden Grow?
(Matthew 13: 1-9)

Reverend Minister Sally Harris

Giver of Life and love this I pray: for stillness to hear the song of Your Spirit.
For vision to see the shape of Your dreaming.
For wisdom to touch the depths of Your creating.
For courage to take the paths our souls have always known. Amen

It was a busy day at the beach - typical of this time of year. People loved to experience the expansiveness of the sea - to feel as if they were setting out on a new adventure. Forgetting they were earthbound they eyed the eagle soaring and then free falling into the currents of the breeze. Earthbound, others followed the whim of the windsurfers dreaming they too were agile enough to ride the wind and waves, finding freedom in such flight. Others imagine setting sail or boarding the great ships and heading into the horizon away from the mundane existence they call life, away from the pain of broken bodies and broken relationships, away from the pressures of work and the relenting present of loneliness. Many on the seashore that day were looking for something to believe in- something beyond the horizon of their world cramped with the stale air of unsettled political intrigues, stressed with economic instability and a world always on the brink of some new terror. Yes for the crowds even if they, physically, remained earthbound the seashore made it possible to give flight to thoughts and dreams and imaginings. The sea breeze, for a moment, cleared the chaos and the clutter of so much to do and so little time and energy. It was a busy day at the beach - typical of this time of year.

And then Jesus came to the shoreline and pressed by questioning eyes and dis-eased bodies Jesus got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And Jesus told them many things in parables, told them of seeds and weeds, soil and sower. Yes, the first of many parables about seeds was this story about the passion of an extravagantly lavish sower. I am not a farmer but I live with a farmer's daughter and I have uncles and cousins that are farmers and I ministered in a rural pastoral charge, and I once even had a vegetable garden, so I am not completely naïve about seeding. I know that there is a method of scattering seeds called broadcasting, but even when you are broadcasting you steer clear of thorny thickets and stony soil. Even when you're scattering seed you stay far away from pathways and rocks and underbrush. And if I know this then certainly the peasant folk at the shoreline where Jesus the storyteller rocked in a boat, would know, that there was something 'fishy' about this story. Ears, no doubt, perked up; the shoreline stalkers got quieter - such reckless abandon is not the usual parlay for this crowd. And so Jesus continues telling the story where hope is the force behind the sowing - not scarcity, not fear, not perfectionism but hope. This is a sower who trusts the soil - who believes that the soil has soul. And the seed is sent out with excessive extravagance by a prodigal sower. But what of the seeds?

Most of us know that the life cycle of a seed can vary. Kept under certain conditions a seed can live, dormant, unflowering for many years. The conditions for such dormancy are tomblike: dark, cold and dry while the seed coat itself prevents growth by blocking the passage of nutrients to the heart of the seed. The seed coat must rot or weaken before germination can occur. And with only a slight change in these conditions the breaking of this protective covering of the seed occurs. Add warmth, water and nourishment and that seed will burst out of its coat and in doing so is changed itself and gives life to a new form which is greater than itself. So it comes as no surprise that Jesus, the one who spoke of losing your life to save it, is talking about nothing short of transformation. Seed-talk is not new talk for Jesus. The way of Jesus is a call to the way of the seed.

A seed sown by the Divine sower, who is so intent on getting the kernel of God's love out into the world that the possibility of losing a few seeds among the thorns and rocks is a small matter. But what of the seeds? What happens to all the seeds that this trusting Sower keeps broadcasting in our lives? Why do they not all take root? Why does the seed not become a song? Why are there so many shoreline stalkers rather than swimmers seized by the sea? As one poet writes:

It is safe by the edge
where the curling foam falls into tiny bubbles.
Here I can walk undisturbed by the depths,
unafraid of sinking and dark silences.
Here by the edge, I can dance and sport,
leaving in the salt sand only slight indents
where my feet barely touched.
Here, by the edge,
I can quietly watch,
musing only on how it must be
to be seized and swept by the deep embrace -
ever calling my name.
[Edwina Gateley]

Who has not felt the sadness of something holy trapped in one's reluctant soil? The seed full of promise falls into our lives, yet something prevents the seed from becoming a song. This parable is a wonderful invitation to consider how we’re allowing God to cultivate us, how we are tending our interior earth as a place where the Word can take root and grow—not just for ourselves but for the life of the world.

So what of the seed? Has it fallen on the edge of a path? A place of traffic, of activity, of feet traveling where little seeds are quickly trodden underfoot. Here lost in a whirl of activity the seed cannot take root, break open and stretch toward the sun - all the distraction prevent its growth. Sometimes I like to linger near the road's edge because I don't want to miss anything. Sometimes I stand on the edge because it is safer. I miss the seed full of promise trying to penetrate the ground of my being because I am too busy observing, too busy with the distraction of others doing the living and the risking and the growing. How does my garden grow?

Then there is the rocky ground. It always amazes me to see a flower growing out of a rock. It seems like a miracle. Even in rock the seed can sometimes find moisture and space to grow. The problem with growing in the rocks, however, is that the root system is not deep. Thus the plant is at the mercy of the elements. It can easily be uprooted. For the seed of the Divine Sower to find a home in me, it must put down its roots deep into my being. Yes we must each guard against the superficiality that our world clings to as a foundation. Space needs to be cleared for the seed to grow deeply. And there are so many rocks that can get in the way of such growth. Rocks like bitterness or jealousy, pebbles of fear or pettiness; stones of gossip or pride; even the boulder of indifference - the casual, passionless attitude about growth. What are the obstacles that harden our hearts and keep us in the shallows?

And then there are those thorny thickets. Perhaps they are like the countless worries and concerns of our lives that can so easily steal the nourishment from these powerful seeds of divine gift scattered within our souls. How easy it is for the anxieties and worries of each day to crowd out my awareness of the Divine Presence sown within me. What crowds out the Presence in your life? In our life together?

But wait! There is something in me, in you, in us that is not content to hang about directionless, as an observer along the edge of the path. There is a thirst in me, in you, in us so deep it will move aside the rocks, seeking moisture. There is a yearning that is intense in its desire to put God's presence first. It may take time, but this unnamable mystery within, the seed that was scattered at the beginning of creation, will finally crowd out the thorns. Yes, there is One who believes in me, in you, in us enough to continue singing up the country of our hearts. There is good soil within each of us waiting to break open the seed sown by the prodigal sower. We are invited by this parable, this sower; by the seed within us, to become curious during this summer season to see what earth might get moved in our souls, what new ground God might challenge us to grow in. Let us be curious as to what sort of cultivation is going on in our souls? What practices are we keeping—or needing—that will help us with this kind of sacred groundwork. How does our garden grow?

[resource: M. Wiederkerhr, The Song of the Seed]

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