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A sermon on Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23 by the Revd Craig Bartlett
Let me begin by saying that it is a joy and a privilege to share my reflections on the Word with you once again. I congratulate you on the change in your name, reflecting your willingness to progress on your journey as an online worshipping community, extending your welcome all across the world.
Today, I’m focusing on the parable of the sower, the Gospel for today. As I’ve been preparing, I’ve needed to consider ‘the need for context to inform the text’, or to use John Dominic Crossan’s terminology, I’ve needed to ‘step inside the matrix’. What is it, in the set of circumstances found in Roman-occupied Palestine, are relevant to grasping the wisdom of this story?
I’ve needed to remind myself again of the unique challenges of Mediterranean farming:
- The way seed was sown and ploughed. In Mediterranean crop farming, the farmer did not have neat, straight furrows in which to drop seed. They practised ‘broadcast sowing’, scattering seed hither and yon in their field. Only after this was done was the seed ploughed under the soil. Moreover, because Mediterranean soil was more pliable than that we find in North America, a plough did not need to be much more than a glorified digging stick.
- Footpaths were very common between agricultural plots. As you would expect, the dirt on these footpaths were dry and packed down hard.
- It’s not uncommon for soil in this area to be thin and rocky, covering a foundation of limestone.
- Yes, there the bane of every farmer’s and gardener’s existence, weeds! In this area, the weeds were thorns and thistles
- In this time, the expected harvest for a peasant farmer was five fold, five times the seed used in harvested crops. A great harvest would be tenfold.
I’ve had discomfort with using farming analogies, lest I fall into grandiose missionary analogies of ‘a field of souls ripe for harvest’ – as a minister in an Indigenous community, I’m happy to leave that behind! However, I must also admit that this is the place where I am, the place where I lead worship, visit, give counsel, and involve myself in community life. So, if I just go out, standing in my field, what can I see?
There’s plenty of evil to snatch people away around here. Even the establishment of a detachment of the Manitoba First Nations Police Service in Fisher River and a recent drug bust has not stopped the destruction of addiction. In this place, we’ve had two deaths recently, one of a 17-year old young man, and a 41-year old mother of two who could not conquer her struggles. We receive regular updates about how supplies of drugs like fentanyl are now laced with tranquilizers, and I have received training in how to administer naloxone in case I come across someone who has overdosed. I am in that unenviable position of ‘hope I never have to, but ready if I must’.
I also see the seeds which fall in shallow soil. There are people who are ready to embrace the life of faith, when there’s a family emergency, or when they want to have a celebration, for a child’s birth, for example. However, after the earth has been scattered, or the baptismal water’s been splashed, the interest fades away. I’ve also encountered those who have come out ‘to see the new minister’. They attend for a while, and might even get involved in a committee or a program, but then, they fade away, too.
And let’s not forget those whose interest has been choked away by ‘the cares of the age’. The same streaming television services, and the same social media traps, and the same pop culture influences which contribute to the secularisation of urban culture, and which compete for people’s attention, are just as present here. We are fighting with the same lures and temptations that you would experience in the cities. And it that The United Church of Canada hasn’t tried to take its place in this 21st century landscape. We’ve had tons and tons of promotional ad campaigns; we had our own television show in the 1990s; we had one of the first web-based discussion groups in the 2000s – interestingly enough, one of those discussion threads had as a starting conversation topic, ‘What would it be like to have a “Jesus bobblehead” statue’. In spite of these efforts, the prediction for 2035 is a denomination with 100,000 members, regular attendance of 30,000 (if we’re lucky), and fewer than 10,000 people in Christian education programs (that includes Sunday school and adult programs). This, for a denomination which had a million members in a population of less than 20 million. How the mighty have fallen.
And yet, it’s still possible to find the seeds which fall in good soil. There are those who turn their lives around from cycles of addiction and trauma, and build new lives with focus and hope. There are those who work hard at being good parents to their children, and who support siblings and kin. There are those who, whether it be through Christian faith or through embracing Indigenous ceremony (known as ‘walking the Red Road’), are making room for the spiritual in their lives. As I record this sermon, we are finishing up a Camp which has included non-Indigenous and Indigenous youth who are exploring ways of reconciliation. Young people who didn’t know much about the Christian Way are asking me things about Jesus (was he Jewish?); someone asked about a picture of Jonah and the Great Fish (I ended up giving the ‘too long;didn’t read’ (tldr) version of the Book of Jonah. By the time you hear this sermon, I will have participated for the second time, and danced for the first time, in the local Sun Dance. As I become more integrated into this community and way of life, embracing elements of the Red Road are important for my own spiritual development and acceptance in the community. I know there will be pushback, there will be people who say, ‘You can’t straddle two canoes – you have to pick one or the other; otherwise you’re just going to fall into the water!’ That might work if you see the spiritual influences in this community as being in competition with each other, trying to get somewhere first. I like to think of them as being a kind of floatilla. Even though I spend most of my time in one of the canoes, there are times when I can be enriched and strengthened by spending time in one of the other canoes.
I don’t want to mix metaphors too much, but no matter what field we find ourselves standing in, it is not our duty to predetermine what kind of soil in which we’re going to distribute our seed. We are called to embrace the task of sowing with an almost wasteful, careless glee, not worrying about predetermined goals or targets. We issue our invitation to life in all its fullness to whomever we encounter, to anyone – yes, anyone – who might show even the slightest inclination to listen. We have been good and faithful servants if we let people that there is a place with a genuine welcome and an open table, given in the name of a God of generosity, a Christ with open arms, and a Spirit which enlivens all. We trust that there will be a fruitful harvest, guided by the God of the harvest. So may it be.