The "Parable of the Sower" (or "Parable of the Soils") -- Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

I spent the summers of my late teens and early twenties working for a large farming operation. My particular division was crop production, where we produced wheat, barley, alfalfa, soybean, hay, and, of course, corn. There were times (like harvest) when it was really quite exciting; but in reality most of my summers were spent preparing soil for planting, which meant picking rocks; hours and hours of picking rocks, walking through acres and acres of freshly plowed fields. In an area famous for its limestone quarries, you can imagine just how many rocks a freshly plowed field can produce. With all the modern technology available today for field preparation (tractors, plows, discs), guess what? Rocks still have to be picked up by hand!

The parable before us today (Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23) is typically known as the “Parable of the Sower.” Yet perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it the “Parable of the Soils,” because what is really interesting about this story are the various conditions of each of the soils.

The first soil we encounter is the soil of a beaten-down path, the kind one can still imagine surrounding crop fields even today. The soil is hardened, not open to life. You can well imagine a sower casting seed into a field by hand (as was common in ancient times), and some happens to fall onto the pathway beside it. Obviously it does not provide a nurturing environment for seed. Yet even this kind of soil has its usefulness: it's good for walking on!

The second soil in our parable is the “rocky ground.” For obvious reasons, this is my favorite. Back in my rock-picking days, it was quite easy to see which parts of a field were picked properly. As soon as the seed-corn germinated, the seed in rocky ground sprang up quickly because rocks hold moisture, especially after a good rain. But over time the parts of a field that are rocky tend to be sparse, while the clean parts of a field flourish and produce more corn. This is because the moisture held by rocks quickly evaporates when the sun beats down on the soil causing the newly germinated plants to wither and die.

Our third soil reminds me of many an English countryside. Those who have ever traveled in England will surely remember the countless hedgerows that separate pastures and fields, marking off ancient boundary lines and providing barriers for pastoral animals like sheep and cattle. Obviously, any seed corn that would fall into a hedgerow, though protected from the sun’s menacing heat and provided with plenty of moisture, would be robbed of the nutrients that it needed to grow to maturity, having to compete with the thorns and thickets that make up hedgerows.

As Jesus explains to his disciples, each of these three soils represents a common response to the good news of the kingdom that the disciples would experience as they went out to sow the message of their Lord. We can readily see this truth for ourselves. Many are they who respond to the Gospel with the indifference of a well-trodden path that has just been seeded with corn. Even before the soil of their hearts has a chance to respond, "Satan" comes to snatch it away, never knowing the better. Then there are those who hear the Word, respond with the excitement of newfound discovery, only to have their faith wither and die because there is no depth in their experience. More frighteningly are those whose response is represented by the hedgerow. Their faith grows yet never comes to maturity as the strangling concerns of their lives rob them of essential nutrients.

But, my friends, there is a fourth soil – the good soil. And what is it that makes it good? Is it that the soil is any better than the other? Is there some special quality about it? Is it endowed with the principle of life while the other soils are not? Is there something supernatural in it, perhaps? No, any farmer (ancient or modern) can tell you that the difference between good soil and bad soil is not necessarily in what the soil is made of, but rather in how it is prepared. To produce a crop of a hundredfold, of sixty-fold or of thirty-fold takes much soil preparation. Back in my farming days, we had to fertilize, plow, pick rocks, disc, pick more rocks, rake, and pick even more rocks before we had a field of good soil.

It takes a lot of hard work to prepare a field for seed; it takes a lot of hard work to prepare a heart for the Gospel. Many of you know this from experience as no doubt you have friends and family members within whose hearts you have been picking rocks for years. And you know this corporately as parish as well. Good Shepherd has been working the ground of this community for many years, and has seen many fruitful harvests.

Yet even despite our best efforts, sometimes it seems that others come into the fields we've been working on for many years and proceed to tread them underfoot. Other times, it's as if the soil itself produces a fresh crop of rocks that need to be picked. And thorns and thistles are always looking for the right opportunity to invade a field to rob the rightful seed of its essential nutrients. But don't be disheartened. A farmer's work is never done. Each year we must continue to work the fields, pick the rocks, trim the hedgerows, and prepare the soil. Remember: the life is in the seed, not the soil. And every farmer knows that there really is no such thing as bad soil; just poor preparation.

The Most Inclusive of Exclusive Claims (John 14:6)

Perhaps it is because of the magnitude of the issue – the clash of competing systems of faith – that I find myself more aware, painfully aware, of the divisions that that persist in the Body of Christ. Our divisions are not simply a matter of competing doctrinal systems. Rather, they are more often than not caused by allowing systems, theology, doctrine, or whatever pet-viewpoint we espouse (political, social, or ideological) to define our loyalties and to shape our relationships in such a way as to exclude those with whom we may differ.

In a paradoxical way our Gospel this morning may bring clarity to this point (John 14:1-14). Here portrayed for us by the author are Jesus’s last words to his closest friends, his disciples, on the night of his betrayal and arrest. And herein is one of the most memorable sayings recorded in the New Testament: “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (14:6). Immediately we are struck by the weight of this claim. It matters little whether we take them as the actual words of Jesus or the interpretive gloss of a gospel writer. These words, and its exclusive claim that Jesus is the unique savior of the world, simply cannot be dismissed, set aside or explained away.

Jesus is not portrayed by our author as saying that he is “a way” (i.e. one of many possible ways), or “a truth” (i.e. one of many possible truths), or “a life” (i.e. one possible way of life); but rather, THE way, THE truth, and THE life. The language here is intentionally exclusive. To put it in the bluntest terms possible: according to our Gospel, all paths simply do not lead to Heaven.

If that were not enough, Jesus goes on to say in the very next statement, “No one comes to the Father, but by me.” Again, these words could not be more exclusive. The claim here is that Jesus is the unique revelation of God to the world. In our modern day, so pre-occupied we are with so-called tolerant speech, inclusive language, and political-correctness, these words could not be more alarming, more painful to our ears. They are downright scandalous, especially when invoked, as they are by many Christians, to rationalize an exclusive vision of the kingdom of God.

Yet I contend that this passage forces us to grapple with the paradox that is the Gospel. Indeed, if read on a superficial level it is impossible to make sense of the exclusive claim of Jesus – “I am the way, the truth, and the life” – and not come to the conclusion that very few people in this world today, or at any time in the past or in the future, will actually be saved. How then can we reconcile these words to the other majestic statement in the Gospel of John? –“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son…” (John 3:16).

Indeed, herein lies the paradox. It is only when we read this claim in light of the all-encompassing, all-inclusive and universal work of Christ on the Cross and in the Resurrection (i.e. in light of verses like John 3:16) that we can begin to make sense of it. It is precisely because Jesus is THE way, THE truth and THE life that the Cross and the empty tomb of Easter are good news for all people, every person, and each race, gender and age.

Jesus did not die just for Christians. He died for all. Jesus is not the Savior of Roman Catholics only. He is not the savior of the Protestants only. And he certainly is not the savior of Episcopalians only. He is the savior of ALL.

Those of you who are familiar with C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia , no doubt recall the last book in the series, called The Last Battle – which portrays the final apostasy and the resulting apocalypse of Lewis’ fantasy world of Narnia. Those familiar the Narnian tales will recall that the Christ-figure in the story is a Lion named Aslan, the Son of the Great Emperor Beyond the Sea, who created Narnia. In the first of the series of seven books – The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe – Aslan goes to the extent of dying a humiliating death on behalf of one of the main characters, a child from our own world named Edmund, to save him from the captivity of the White Witch. Like Christ, he also overcomes death by being resurrected, and ushers in a new age for Narnia.

At the end of the series in the last book, Narnia is in conflict both internally and externally. Narnia’s hostile neighbor to the South, a mysterious foreign country called “Calormen,”attempts to conquer the entire world in the name of their god, Tash. Tash is a false god, who even makes an appearance in the final book in the form of a terrible winged Dinosaur-like demon. The Calormenes form an unholy alliance with a few treacherous and greedy subjects of Narnia, in particular an Ape named “Swift,” who fools the good inhabitants of Narnia into believing that Aslan has returned and that Aslan and Tash are really two names for the same God.

The final battle of Lewis’ fantasy world would take too long for me to tell. But the story ends with the de-creation and the dissolution of the Narnian world, and the dividing of all of the creatures and inhabitants, both past and present, into two groups – one which goes off to disappear into Aslan’s shadow (into outer darkness and separation) and the other which is invited into “Aslan’s country” (which of course is Lewis’ metaphor for heaven). The main characters of the story, all children from our world, are surprised to discover that a Calormene warrior – a worshipper of Tash -- is also among those who have entered into Aslan’s country. His name is Emeth, and they ask him to tell his story, of how he too had ended up in Aslan’s country. Emeth then proceedsto tell his story:

…I fell at Aslan’s feet and thought, "Surely this is the hour of death, for the Lion (who is worthy of all honour) will know that I have served Tash all my days and not him." Nevertheless, it is better to see the Lion and die than to be Tisroc of the world and live and not to have seen him.

But the Glorious One bent down his golden head and touched my forehead with his tongue and said, "Son, thou art welcome."

But I said, "Alas, Lord, I am no son of thine but the servant of Tash."
He answered, "Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me."

Then by reasons of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, "Lord, it is then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one?"

The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, "It is false. Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou hast done to him. For I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him.

Therefore if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath's sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he knew me not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted. Dost thou understand, Child?"

I said, "Lord, thou knowest how much I understand." But I said also (for the truth constrained me), "Yet I have been seeking Tash all my days."

"Beloved," said the Glorious One, "unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek."

Then he breathed upon me and took away the trembling from my limbs and caused me to stand upon my feet. And after that, he said not much, but that we should meet again, and I must go further up and further in.

In the final analysis, Jesus’ exclusive role as Savior of the world – the way, the truth, and the life – turns out to be the most inclusive and most unifying principle there is! Systems of theology and doctrine cannot unite; denominations cannot unite; bishops cannot unite; ideology cannot unite; force-of-arms or military threats cannot unite; politics certainly cannot unite. Indeed, the only thing that can unite the human race is the God who became human in the Person of his Son – the One who assumed our nature, experienced our trials and temptations, shared our sufferings and afflictions, bore our sins and transgressions, died our death, and raised us up again with him.