Luke 8:1-15 July 20, 2008 the Parable of the Sower I Know That's

Luke 8:1-15 July 20, 2008 The Parable of the Sower

I know that’s what Norton thought when he greeted Yvonne each week at church. By the time I became pastor of that church, Norton and Yvonne had both been members there at least 25 years. Norton, at 75, had been an usher all this time. Yvonne, at about the same age, had attended the 11:00 service most every Sunday. Norton came to me, a few weeks after I became his pastor to tell me his problem. “Yvonne has not spoken to me in years,” he said. “I don’t know how I made her mad at me, but for almost 20 years she turns away in church when she sees me. This isn’t the way church is supposed to be. Can you find out what is wrong?” I talked to Yvonne about it. “No, it’s private between Norton and me. I won’t talk about it.” When I returned to Norton I told him, “I don’t know what it is, Norton. But just keep being nice. Just keep planting seeds. One day she’ll greet you and it’ll all be ok.”

With every sowing of seed there is a little death. The seed leaves the hand of the sower and is buried in the earth. From this little death comes the only hope of life. Out of her trust and hope, blessed by God, new life springs from out of the sower’s persistence and hope.

We’re talking about the parables this summer in sermons because they are the heart of the teaching of Jesus, and sometimes they’re forgotten when we think of him. The Apostles’ Creed itself goes, “I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth and in his son our savior Jesus Christ, who was born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified dead and buried.” The Apostles’ Creed is a beautiful and important creed, but if you listened to it closely there’s Jesus birth followed by his death and nothing in between. It’s little wonder that theologians for the last hundred years have focused on the Historical Jesus because the church – in our concerns of life and death and heaven and hope – has all but forgotten the core of Jesus’ spoken message: his teaching. It’s fascinating that Jesus did not teach the scriptures. Instead his teaching was life-based and always began with earthy examples. None is more earthy than the Parable of the Sower. There’s really no story to Jesus’ story of the sower. It’s the same thing that happens a million times a year in a farming community. A sower sows. Some seed germinates and bears fruit. Other seeds never make it. But at this time in his ministry, it’s clear why Jesus told this story: Jesus’ teaching did not always bear fruit. According to Mark (3:21) at one point his family thought he was crazy and tried to rein him in. At another point, according to John (6:66) some of his disciples left him because they found his teaching too hard. At nearly every point the Pharisees and religious leaders rejected him. His disciples must have wondered how it could be so clear to them that Jesus was the anointed one of God, but others could reject him without a second thought. And in a simple story Jesus answers the complicated theological question of how God works in people’s lives, and he also gives them the timeless message of why we in the church do the work we do, even when there is no visible result. The theological answer Jesus gives to how God works in our lives is an analogy: the knowledge and love of God is a seed that is always ready to sprout. The only contingency on whether it will sprout or not is where the seed happens to land. It’s the recipient that determines whether the seed will germinate and whether it will bear fruit. In this image of God, the Almighty never succeeds through coercion or force. The seed is always perfect, always ready to grow, but we are too shallow, or too busy, or too apathetic. Jesus’ God always honors our free will, and also always stands ready with to germinate and grow. There’s promise in the seed, but sometimes we’re just not ready for it and it withers or is choked or is picked off before any fruit can be born. Jesus’ God is a long way from the Old Testament God who thunders and punishes when the people disobey. Jesus’ God is the Abba God, the forgiving father God, the Good Shepherd God who plants and watches and waits for us to respond. But Jesus’ parable is more than just a story about God. It’s also a story about us. Because if God is the seed, who is the sower? And of course the sower is you, and the sower is me. We cast the seed of God’s possibilities out to our community and hope and pray that out there there is some fertile soil. Our church is uniquely positioned as it stands at the threshold of a new community and a new ministry. We are a progressive church – we’re accepting of differences, we’re engaged in Christian faith in a new and forward-thinking way, we’re committed to social justice designed to make the world into the image of God’s beloved community that the most progressive thinkers of our day. And Seattle is a progressive city. It is wildly liberal. It is eco-conscious. It is social justice oriented. It is forward-thinking. The only thing it isn’t is faithful. Patricia Killen’s 2002 study says it best. When she asked “which of these describes your religious background: Catholic, Jewish, Protestant, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, etc.” the most common response was “None of the Above.” So she called our area the “None Zone” in response. But she also learned this: most everyone around here prays. Most everyone around here describes themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” For religious folk this sometimes feels like a foreign land. Sometimes here in Seattle it feels odd to be feel like one of the faithful few. A year ago The Stranger weekly newspaper decided to do something of an expose on religious life in Seattle. The article began by reminding its readers that something less than 10% of Seattle attends churches. But the author noticed that there are church buildings all over Seattle. Just what happens inside those buildings, The Stranger asked? So the newspaper sent out 30 reporters to cover worship in 30 congregations and the resulting article was cleverly titled, “A Month of Sundays.” How did a progressive paper in progressive Seattle feel about progressive congregations? Plymouth Church: Hated it. St. James Cathedral: Hated it. St. Mark’s Cathedral: Hated it. All Pilgrims Church: Hated it. What about First Church? Well, they missed us, but they did go to an exciting and alive United Methodist Church on Beacon Hill. How did they like it: Hated it! And on and on and on. So a church’s challenge is how do we cast the seed onto soil that doesn’t want any seed to go too deep? And of course the Parable of the Sower has its answer. But the question is not just the church community’s. The question belongs to all of us individually in the church. How do we sow seeds among our families and friends and acquaintances and neighborhoods that are too busy, too superficial, too apathetic? The best kind of planting of seeds of faith, it turns out, is living our faith in the most real way. When obstacles come along – like Yvonne’s long-held anger at Norton – there’s no choice but to continue to do the work of the sower and keep casting seeds. Until the day I left as pastor of that church – 9 years after Norton’s first request – Yvonne was still not ready to look Norton in the eye and greet him on Sunday morning. And the point of the parable is to keep casting seeds no matter the response. Our work of spreading love cannot be contingent on whether seeds immediately spring up. Our work of love is to be done because that it our work. Some of the seed will fall on the path, some on thin soil, some will be choked by weeds, but don’t stop casting the seeds of love. Because God’s vision is that the world will be a lush and fruitful garden. God’s dream is that our hearts will all be open to that vision and open to each other. In God’s vision there will be no war, there will be no poverty, there will be no injustice. When our hearts are opened and the seeds of faith, and hope, and love are planted, the world will be transformed. And our job is scatter the seeds of God’s love in acts of kindness, faithfulness, generosity, forgiveness, and hope. Last Saturday on NPR Scott Simon gave tribute for an important person: Gary Smith the doorman at NPR’s studios in Pittsburgh. He was a big friendly man with joshing smile. He was undiscriminating in his warmth and welcomed everyone. He loved family, friends, faith, work, Pittsburgh Steelers. Personal relationships with 100’s of people. He nourished his relationships – he remembered birthdays, kids’ names, anniversaries. Spread love to strangers who walked through the glass doors of the lobby every day for over 20 years. Scott Simon one day brought a dead goldfish to work, hoping to change it out after work for a live one so his little daughter wouldn’t notice. But Gary insisted the fish couldn’t be tossed in a bin. Needed to be buried. “Everything has a soul” he said. At the funeral in the planter outside NPR’s offices, Gary had just the right words. “Salmie was a good fish. A little girl loved him. Thank you for Salmie.” When sports reporter David Green’s mother died, Gary called him on Sundays during the game because that’s when he talked to his mother and he would miss him. In a business of skeptics this word was heard around the offices of NPR: “If a person as good as Gary was religious, maybe there’s something to God.” Gary reminded us everyone has a soul. Gary beheld them with a rare insight. Saw through to people’s souls. The beauty he was determined to see in others was the loveliness that lit up so many lives each day.