Good Soil

Matthew 13:1–9 NRSV

That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!”

Good soil.

What if there aren’t bad seeds?

Before we unpack the good news in this text, I want to zoom out and consider what we might be predisposed to hear in this text.

I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but over time, I developed an understanding of this parable. Find the good soil, or else. Like there was something wrong with the seeds that fell on the path or in the thorns. Like it was somehow their fault.

Well, if you weren’t out there in that rocky soil, your roots would be deeper.

Sorry for you, you’re gonna get snatched up by the birds.

But what if there aren’t bad seeds?

Somehow this meaning became a kind of litmus test for whether someone is faithful or righteous or good. Too bad, out of the four types of ground, you’re just not one of the good 25%. The chosen. In fact, we knew that your seeds weren’t going to sprout, but, that’s life. Sorry.

Of course, we can see where this thinking leads us. Some seeds are just better. They happened upon the good soil and took root. It happened to rain on them and now they’re blossoming in full.

Matthew 5:44–45 NRSV

But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.

The rain falls on the righteous and the wicked. God’s blessing is consistent.

But those naughty seeds. Right?

What if there aren’t bad seeds.

I’ve spent a lot of time in the yard and garden this last week, these last weeks actually. I’m not at the point where I’m planting seeds, especially in the middle of the summer, and I’ve never really been confident enough to really cultivate anything new in our yard.

But, what I have been realizing and doing is that I can impact the health of the soil. Like, I can help my yard be better at retaining moisture, better at suppressing unnecessary weeds, better at keeping nutrients and life intact, rather than sluffing away and dissipating.

What if there aren’t bad seeds? What if our work is to tend to the soil and let the seeds do what they do?

Let’s talk about the four places the seeds land. Remember the question: What if there aren’t bad seeds?

Seeds on the path

In my embedded understanding of this parable, the seeds on the path are those seeds that just get swept up in the spirit of the age, the zeitgeist, and don’t have a chance to take root. They get picked up by the birds, the squirrels, the deer. They’re food, but they don’t grow. They get mowed up, thrown about, trampled on.

The image of getting swept up by a large crowd comes to mind. It’s the packed concert or sporting match, where you just have to flow with the crowds. It’s the queue to get onto or off your flight at the airport. It’s the slow torture of waiting in line at the DMV, longing to just get pecked up and on with this business thank you very much.

Did the seeds on the path choose to be sown there?

Did the seeds on the path try to make it work?

As I’ve learned to slow down and pay attention in my yard, I’ve started to notice those little seeds on the path, as it were. Gardeners might call these volunteers, if they find any purchase of healthy soil. Reachers.

The path is a blank space and has so much potential. But it’s thin, moves, rustles, and tramples.

If there aren’t bad seeds, maybe it’s a matter of being swept away, caught up, and not having time or space to dive deep, grow roots, take up space.

And before we move on, maybe there’s not bad soil, either. Why in the world would you plant seeds on a path, anyways? That’s not where they’re gonna grow.

We were over on the east side a couple weeks ago and I saw a sign on some park beds: “Plants grow by the inch and die by the foot.”

Like, don’t step on the flower beds!! Don’t walk on the ferns. That’s not the path, my friend.

Seeds on the rocky ground

Next we have the seeds that fall onto rocky ground. Similar to the seeds on the path, they can’t put down roots.

But let’s be honest, we all know what kinds of plants do take root in the rocks. The weeds, the tenacious ones. Give me just a little bit of sunlight and I’ll spread like…a weed.

Actually, I hear this part with a little more clarity this time around. The rocky ground has soil, it’s just not much. It’s hard to live on.

Remember our question: What if there aren’t bad seeds?

These seeds try and try to find a place to root, but it’s just too sparse, too thin.

I’ve noticed that so many of the weeds and random plants that spring up in the topsoil, they really have pretty shallow, weak roots. They’re actually pretty easy to pull when they’re spread on rocky or unsettled soil.

These good seeds could flourish somewhere else. But they are dying off because they can’t go deep.

I think of Jesus’ invitation from last week, to come as weary, heavy ladened people, and finding rest. I hear this in contrast to our rocky ground seeds. Here, there is no rest. It is all toil, all trying, all shoulding, grasping. If only we could get a little more nutrients. More soil. But it’s too thin.

As I mentioned earlier, I’ve realized that I can have an impact on the health of the soil. So, I cultivate spaces with compost and mulch where then the soil gets healthier and there’s more room for a seed to settle in and grow roots.

What if there are no bad seeds? What if they’re just not finding soil, nutrients, life?

What if we could pay attention to this and make sure we’re clearing spaces for those roots to grow? Making space?

Seeds among thorns

Of course, this leads to the third place the seeds fall — among the thorns.

A couple weeks back, I cleared a bunch of blackberries from our yard. It’d been a few years and they’d grown up onto my neighbors’ fence, so I needed to hack them back.

You know what? Under those thorny branches, you know what’s there? Actually, not very much.

Those thorns had choked out so much, blocked off good light.

You know what’s happening in their place now? Little sprouts. Grass, flowers, more thorns, but plants — life! What had been choked off ground now has immense potential.

These good seeds just needed space.

The spiritual connection here is an awareness that we need room to grow and spread out. How many of us have known religion to be about dogma and certainty and a specific set of answers to the world’s question? Rigid. Confining?

These are thorns — choking off expression, wonder, awe, curiosity.

Sometimes these thorns can be really harmful, stifling, abusive.

Sometimes these thorns are beautiful fruit bearers.

If you’re a blackberry seed, falling among the thorns is ok, it will likely help the plant grow larger. But, what if you’re not a blackberry? What if you’re a sunflower?

As with the previous places, the thorns are about context. Yes, plants can grow here. But they have to be in alignment with the dominant species. They can’t step out of line. Rigid Religion. Stifling. Confining.

Ultimately, the seeds are choked off and absorbed into the maw of the thorns. No other fruit allowed.

Seeds in good soil

Finally, the good soil.

The last few years, I’ve read a number of books on composting, soil, fungi, mushrooms, and yard habitats.

Good soil has a few important components.

There’s carbon and nitrogen, these basic elements that have the potential to foster life. There’s mycelial networks, fungus and lichen and shrooms, all linked together, forming pathways in the soil like neurons in a brain. There’s moisture — not just rain, but what is held in the soil long after the sun has come out. There’s waste, the detritus of previous years, animal matter, fallen leaves.

All of these things, this cloud of earthy witnesses if you will, these make up the healthy soil. There’s diversity, decay, growth — cycles of life.

What if there aren’t any bad seeds? What if it’s that they belong in good soil?

With proper irrigation and light and care, these good seeds will grow strong.

I’ve noticed something else about the way gardens and yards and land works — if there’s open space, something will crop up. Mother nature doesn’t like to be bare. And so if the soil is good, there’s a ton of potential for what might grow.

Mind you, here’s where we have to mention the diversity of God’s kin-dom. What kind of seeds can grow is pretty unlimited, endless, right? Blooms, berries, brush and bracken. Obviously, the kind of climate and environment will yield particular plants, dictated by the availability of seeds and what intention or design a piece of land has to grow upon. But God’s way is bio-diverse.

And healthy soil has diverse residents. My Pacific Northwest backyard will make space for specific kinds of plants that thrive in this climate. My friend in Arizona will have different plants.

And here, of course, we see the beauty of the Church in all it’s diversity. We have the soil of the Orthodox or Protestant traditions. We have the climate of living in the United States (with the varying healths of soil in our faith communities) and we have the witness of the global church — same faith, different fruits.

What if there aren’t bad seeds?

What if the work is to find the right place to grow?

If I look back on the first half of my life, I wonder what seeds I have sown and what soil I’ve been planted in.

Has what you’ve done made an impact?

Did I cultivate something healthy with my days?

Have I tended my garden, both literally and communally, have I tended to the needs of the seeds and plants in a way that helped them grow and flourish?

These days I’ve found myself looking back on about 20 years of ministry in this town and wondering — did I plant any seeds? Is God growing something with my life?

This stole that I’m wearing, if you recall, came from my trip last year to El Salvador. My pilgrimage to visit and remember the witness of Oscar Romero, archbishop, advocate, liberationist, pastor.

In his last weeks, before being assassinated, Romero famously remarked: “If they kill me, I will rise again in the Salvadoran people.”

St. Romero understood the parable of the sower. He could see that he was but a fruit bearing plant. He would die, give up his seeds. But in confidence, he knew he would rise, his witness and his passion and his faith, it would rise in a new generation of leaders, liberationists, justice-seekers.

So what kind of soil are we cultivating?

Is it healthy soil? Have we been fed with nutrients, water, sunlight, all the necessary elements that lead to healthy biomes and growth?

Or are we locked up in thorny ground or drying out in barren wastes?

As you consider these questions — wondering where you’re planted and what kind of seeds you are cultivating — I want to draw one clear conclusion.

There aren’t bad seeds. Actually, seeds are generally all pretty good, especially if you take care of them.

Are we caring for the tender sprouts around us? Are we making space for someone to breathe and untangle from the thorns of life? Are we offering depth and water and nutrients and light? Are we receiving those things ourselves?

I recognize that I can grow and grasp as an unhealthy, fighting, striving plant. But, what if…what if I were in the right soil, the right ground? With the right people, who nurture me and I cross polinate and care for too. What if we found the good soil? What if we found our place in God’s loving garden, where we can thrive, spread, and bear good fruit?

The seeds aren’t bad.

May we cultivate our lives and communities in ways that allow those good little seeds to grow.