Reflection on the 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Our readings this morning both challenge and reassure us.  We’re challenged to cooperate with change and reassured that God is with us calling forth life.

The Gospel of Matthew was written specifically for Jews who were trying to find their footing after drastic change and upheaval. It was 70 years after Jesus’ death and the Roman emperor was determined to destroy the faith and spirit of the Jewish people after an uprising in Jerusalem. When he ordered his soldiers to destroy the Temple, he ordered them to not only tear it down but to carry away all of the pieces so that it couldn’t be rebuilt.  He also commanded his soldiers to kill all the priests, scribes and their families.  In other words, all the leaders.  By the end, some 1 million Jews were dead and the survivors had fled.

Just imagine what it was like for those survivors; the pain, grief, confusion, despair.  How were they to find their way through the upheaval of such devastating change? That’s the context that inspired the author of Matthew to assure his readers at the beginning and at the end of the Gospel that God is with us.  Because God is with us, what seems to be the end actually has a way through, a crack that allows life to slip through and evolve and grow. That’s what I realized as I allowed the familiar Parable of the Sower and the Seed to unfold as a living story with truth for our time.

We know the basic story.  A farmer went out to sow his seeds…

Some seeds fell on the path and the birds ate them.  Seeds of new life can’t grow on old paths. It’s tempting to try to stay with what’s familiar, to imagine that we can take our seeds of new life and expect them to grow on safe, well-trodden paths. I always assumed that the illustration ended when the birds ate the seeds.  But let’s think about it. Seed dispersal is an important role of birds. They eat seeds and excrete them in random places. Thanks to birds, native flowers spread and tree seedlings pop up in some of the most unexpected places. Change is redirected but not stopped when we try to stay with what’s familiar.

Some seeds fell on rocky ground.  They sprouted quickly but then died because their roots were too shallow.  If the first example speaks to those tempted to stay with what’s familiar, the second is directed toward the quick adapters who just want to move on.  Change efforts that aren’t deeply rooted and thoughtfully considered might show fast, immediate results but they don’t last.  But that’s not the end of the story either.  I’m guessing we’ve all seen plants grow in seemingly impossible conditions like out of a rock wall.  It takes a long time and it certainly isn’t optimal but not all is lost when plants sprout and die because organic matter from dead plants creates the conditions for the next seeds to grow.

Some of the seeds fell among thorns which choked out the seeds.  Can you imagine the pain, fear and anxiety Matthew’s readers must have been dealing with after their traumatic experiences?  We know in our own lives how anxiety chokes out hope that things can change for the better.  But all is not lost in this example, either.  In ecosystems, thorns and brambles are known as pioneer species which are instrumental in the transition from a field to a forest.  Some individual seeds may be lost in the dense thickets but a broader, systemwide transition is in process which can’t be stopped.

All three of these examples point to a basic truth. Change is.  Period. That’s how God created the Universe; every moment, every breath, whether we hang on, let go, try to hold back, or cooperate. All life around us is constantly changing.  We can influence how change unfolds but we can’t stop it.  Our other readings point to the same truth.  Isaiah reminds us that God’s word perseveres.  It will not return void but will accomplish that for which it was sent.  And Paul tells us in Romans that we’re not alone. All of Creation is laboring to call forth new life.  

The parable ends with the seed that fell on rich soil and produced a plentiful harvest.  Rich soil teaches a critical lesson: There’s more than what meets the eye.  This teaspoon of compost contains from 1 million to 1 billion living microbes.  In a forest, one cubic inch of soil contains a network of tiny fungal threads long enough to stretch 8 miles.  It’s mind boggling to think of ourselves like one microbe in the vastness of the universe or one thread in the eons of time.  We may sometimes feel isolated and alone but there’s more than what meets the eye.  We are one small and crucial part of a larger movement across time and space.

Whatever our particular temptation, whether it’s to stay on familiar paths or move too quickly or allow anxiety to choke out hope, we can rest in the assurance that God is with us. We don’t know what the outcome of our efforts will be.  We don’t know whether the seed of Loretto will sprout where we can see the results or be carried off and dispersed by birds. We don’t know whether we will give birth to a plentiful harvest or become organic matter for the next harvest.  

What we do know is that we are privileged to cooperate with the life force of the Universe, the Spirit of God who has been calling forth life for more than 14 billion years.  May that truth both compel us to cooperate whole heartedly and reassure us that, no matter what, the God of Life is with us and will find the cracks.