“Listen!  A sower went out to sow.”  Thus begins a wonderful series of stories told by the great teacher, Jesus of Nazareth – stories which, two thousand years later, are still being told as around the world, Christians gather to be formed by the Greatest Story ever told.  As we gather on this hot summer morning, how are we challenged by this parable: the story of a generous Sower, of soils of varying degrees of receptivity, and of an abundant harvest? 

Our first reaction may be to ask ourselves: "Gee, I wonder what kind of soil I am?"  And on hot days like we've just been going through, we may feel like the soil scorched by the sun.  When we are going through troubles or trials, we may become aware of the thorns and rocks that seem to prevent God’s word, God’s love, from really taking root in our lives.  And then there are those moments – thank God for them! – that we actually do begin to see some results from our work, from God's work in our lives.  We can relate to the seed that, against all odds, sprouted and brought forth a rich harvest.

The problem with identifying too quickly with any one of the types of soil, is that we can miss what is perhaps the central point of the parable.  For we always tend to think of things in terms of what WE have to do: preparing, sowing, waiting, and reaping.  But this parable is about the Word of God and the way in which it takes root in our heart, in our life, ultimately bearing fruit in abundance.  This doesn't happen overnight.  Just as the farmer must go through the process of clearing the land, tilling the soil, sowing the seed, fertilizing, watering, weeding, and most of all, waiting patiently, before the harvest is ready, so are our lives with God.

The problem is that often, we are like the child who, having just planted a vegetable seed or a flower bulb, comes back 15 minutes later looking for results – and seeing none, then wants to pull it up by the roots to check "how it's doing?"  We laugh at this – and yet, with respect to the Word of God and its own taking root in our lives, we may be just as impatient as our novice gardener.  We expect instantaneous results.  We fail to realize that every aspect of our life - including our walk with God - is in a constant process of becoming.  And that at each stage of our life, we need to be continually open to growth, development, and change. 

We may be very impatient for harvest-time.  But we can't skip the steps.  Jesus reminds us that it isn't sufficient to just hear the word of God; it needs to be welcomed, understood, integrated, appropriated; it needs to take root in us, so much so that we ourselves become rooted in it.  It must become so much a part of my life that I turn to it for strength and inspiration, in good times and in bad.  It is a life shaped by the word that eventually yields a fruitful harvest – one that comes in God's own time and in God's own way, which may not necessarily be our own.

Many years ago – 12 years last April, in fact – it was my great privilege (and great headache!) to organize an international Congress on church vocations, which gathered nearly 1200 participants from every sector of the North American Church.  To illustrate the Congress theme that every vocation is a “gift of God, given for God’s people,” the designers of the logo took up this image of the sower.  They presented us with the picture of a simple farmer, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, abundantly casting forth the seed in all directions.   As people listened to the story and gazed upon the image, as they pondered the challenges facing the North American Church at a time when the sexual abuse scandal in Boston had just broken, they began to see all kinds of things. 

In the sower’s open hand, they discerned the image of God’s outstretched arm to each of us, of God’s profound respect for human liberty as the hospitable environment for the seed of his Kingdom.  They saw a God who, in the field of the world, continues to sow his seed abundantly, recklessly even, without any sense of exclusion. 

They understood that if we are to truly imitate this God who sows so liberally, even prodigally, then we too must be willing to “sow everywhere, in the heart of everyone, without preference or exception,” without any predetermined notions about who is or is not a worthy recipient of the Good News of the Kingdom.  They knew that no field is so rocky, so thorny, so scorched, that it should be judged hopeless, incapable of bearing fruit.   That as Isaiah says so beautifully this morning, “the word that goes out from my mouth shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose.”

 In a later parable about sowing of seeds, we are told that “the seed is the Word of God, Christ is the sower.”  The seed sown in us, the seed we are invited in turn to sow generously, is not an ideology, or a promise of moral purity, or the sense of belonging to an exclusive group.   “The seed is the word of God”: not just my own word.  God's word is there to console and comfort us, but as Jesus suggests in the middle-part of the Gospel, it is also a Word that shakes us out of complacency, that calls us to conversion, that challenges the choices we make in our life, that invites us to live with integrity, in generous service of others.  To welcome God's word is not just analyzing it or shaping it to suit my own purposes; it is to be captivated by it, to allow it to help me overcome my biases, reform my prejudices, give me a new and fresh way of looking at the world.

This is why Jesus taught in parables.  We are mistaken if we think of Jesus’ parables as nice stories with suitable morals, a Godly version of Aesop's Fables or Grimm's Fairy Tales.  The wisdom of parables goes well beyond stock human wisdom: for parables hide as much as they reveal.  They invite us to really open our eyes, our ears, our hearts, to a new way of thinking, a new way of understanding reality: God's way, the way of the Kingdom: a challenge to the ways of our world.  They give no easy answers, but force us to question many of the assumptions about the world - and about God - which we so easily take for granted.  To the assumption that foreigners are to be feared and mistrusted, Jesus responds with the parable of the Samaritan, a social reject who goes out of his way to help those who have ostracized his people.  To a patriarchal society which saw God as harsh and judgmental, Jesus responds with the love of the Prodigal Father, willing to overlook his son's betrayal out of joy at his return. To those who think humility means denying or burying your gifts, Jesus responds with the parable of the talents, the invitation to develop our gifts and let our light shine.

Over the past year, we have seen Pope Francis doing what the Sower does in today’s Gospel: sowing the seeds of God’s love and mercy abundantly, lavishly – in a way that shocks some, but gives hope and consolation to many others.  Let me just mention two recent gestures that immediately come to mind.  The first one was on his recent trip to the Holy Land, when he issued an unscripted and unexpected invitation to the Prime Ministers of Palestine and Israel to meet with him at the Vatican in a joint prayer for peace.  Both leaders accepted, and the service, which took place in the Vatican Gardens on Pentecost Sunday, was a beautiful and hopeful sign of the desire for peace rising above a seemingly unresolvable conflict.  As we all know, this has not led to a miraculous outbreak of peace, as rockets fly between southern Israel and the Gaza strip, leading to the death of over 100 Palestinian civilians.  Sometimes the seed is sown into thorny ground and fails to thrive, but we must not use that as an excuse not to continue sowing.

The second was his meeting last Monday with six survivors of sexual abuse by priests.  This was far more than a simple photo-op or pro forma apology.  Pope Francis dined with the group the evening before, celebrated Mass with them in the morning and delivered a homily in which he acknowledged the pain and abuse they had suffered. He issued not only an unequivocal apology, but a commitment to ensure that those responsible both for the abusive actions and the cover-up be held accountable.  Then he met in private with the survivors individually, spending a half-hour or more with each one and listening to their stories.  Again, it is the sowing of a seed of healing, justice and reconciliation; we must now pray and work so that this seed may bear fruit in the life of the survivors, and indeed of the whole church wounded by this scandal.  

So as we celebrate our Eucharist today, let us pray for the grace to be open – really open – to the Word of God.   May that word not go simply in one ear and out the other, but may it take root in us, accomplish God’s purpose, and bear fruit in our lives, and the lives of those to whom the Lord sends us. “The seed is the Word of God, Christ is the Sower: all who come to him will have eternal life.”  Amen.