SERMON FOR JULY 12, 23020      TEXT: MATTHEW 13:1-23
    I was in the church history program in graduate school, but my interest was in historical theology, not so much social or institutional kinds of stuff. That meant I had to take a lot of courses with theology students, and some days I came out of class feeling like a lost soul. Their specialized language was a challenge. When I asked for a clarification or offered my humble historian’s opinion, some of them gave me the same dismissive stink eye that my imperious cats reserve for puppies who have accidents in the house. It was scary — how would I ever get through my exams?! One day I voiced my uneasiness to a friend and fellow history student. She was far more of an imperious cat than a wayward puppy. “Oh Jane,” she replied. “Those theology geeks always treat the historians like we’re stupid because we don’t squirt inky clouds of jargon every time we open our mouths.” Ah, flying the friendly skies of academia — NOT.
     Through the years I have kept plugging away, going to lectures and reading scholarly books. Often I come away excited by a new set of ideas or challenged by questions I had never thought to ask. Sometimes I marvel at the beauty and clarity of the presentation. But other times I get increasingly irritated and think to myself, “Why can’t you just cut to the chase and say what you mean?” When in the privacy of the parsonage, I have been know to slam a book down in exasperation. It doesn’t help my comprehension; it just scares the dog.
     The story told in today’s Gospel is full of such aggravation on the part of both the teacher and his audience. “He told them many things in parables.” After Jesus speaks to the crowd about the sower, the disciples come to him and ask, “Why do you speak in parables?” The following section is left out of the lectionary, but it is an important part of the story:
11 He answered, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. 12 For to those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. 13 The reason I speak to them in parables is that ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.’ 14 With them indeed is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah that says: ‘You will indeed listen, but never understand, and you will indeed look, but never perceive.15 For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of hearing, and they have shut their eyes; so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and understand with their heart and turn — and I would heal them.’ 16 But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. 17 Truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.”
     In Matthew’s Gospel there are three distinct groups responding to Jesus: the religious authorities, who are from the get go his implacable enemies; the people, who are initially well disposed but ultimately reject him; and the disciples, who are on the right track but still require a considerable amount of remedial work. The parable of the sower itself and Jesus’ remarks here are offered as an explanation as to why people are failing to respond to his message. It has not been given to them to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven. They come at this already compromised by their dulled hearts and hardness of hearing, and with students with those kind of special needs, using parables would not be the best choice of pedagogy. But Jesus goes with this option deliberately. He’s not expecting them to understand, and in this instance he doesn’t make it easier for them. 
     In contrast, the disciples are his prize pupils: “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven . . . . How blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear,” he tells them. Still, for all that, he feels compelled to go on and explain the meaning of the story to them. This would seem to defeat the purpose of using a parable in the first place, since it is supposed to engage one’s hearers and entice them to figure it out for themselves. But okay then: The seeds eaten by birds represent these people; the seeds scattered on rocky soil equal this group; these folks are the seeds choked by thorns; and that leaves one last category, the seeds that fell on good soil and thrived. Now who can that be?  
     Well, considering that you and I are here today listening to the Word and seeking to understand it, that would be us, yielding the fruits of our faith in varying amounts from season to season. Yet at the same time we recognize our own experience in the other categories. The line between the stars of the class and those who fail to get with the program cuts through each one of us as much as it runs between us. Who has not at some point found out how easily evil robs us of our comfort and confidence in God? Who of us can honestly say that our roots in faith have never given way “when trouble arises”? As for “the cares of the world and the lure of wealth” threatening to choke the life out of us, that danger is ever present for all. 
     If you walk along the rail trail, you will see trees that push themselves through the formations of granite; seeds that fell on rocky ground and sprang up and proved to have roots after all, precarious, to be sure, yet tenacious, holding on for dear life in the slim pickings of dirt and mulch, enough for the tree to keep reaching to the light. Good enough can become good soil. And the Word of God can cut through thorns like the prince’s sword, clearing the way to Sleeping Beauty’s enchanted castle and waking her world to renewed life. As Yogi Berra said, “It ain’t over till it’s over.” 
     It is also important to remember that, despite his frustration, Jesus continued to teach, continued to scatter the seed of God’s Word all over, knowing it could, by its own power, produce wonderful growth in unpromising places. After all, the story is called the Parable of the Sower, not the parable of the good soil or lack thereof. At the very end of Matthew’s Gospel, the risen Lord commissions his followers to “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you” (28:19). I was talking to an educator the other night who pointed out how easy it is for teachers to focus on students as the problem. “They just don’t want to learn,” is the common complaint, and what can you do amidst all those rocks and thorns? Well, here and now Jesus is addressing his commission to you and me — go out and teach; go out and make disciples. As my daughter would say, “Ma, sowing is your jam.” We are all about finding fresh ways to proclaim God’s Word so that it can take root and bear fruit, transforming barren earth into good soil. This is the work of God. “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose and succeed in the thing for which I sent it” (Isaiah 55:10-11). Amen.