A seedy reflection

Disciples of Jesus might have the awful temptation when reading today's gospel to think but they represent the seed that has fallen in good soil. The way in which Jesus secretly explains the meaning of this parable could even reinforce such an assumption, because we share in listening to his secret commentary. But that is probably a very dangerous way for any Christian to go about reading the gospel. We always want to be the hero in the story until, that is, we find out that we are the villain.

Worse still, we are usually the villain under the appearance of doing good. The first seed falls on the ground on the edge of the path and it is taken away by the birds. I imagine those seeds like Christians who make themselves so available to others and become so activist that they do not leave time for the one essential thing that is ‘the better part’, as Jesus said to Martha. Laziness is one of the seven deadly sins, but busyness can itself be a source of grief, rather than a proof of our love. This may be an even greater temptation for Christians in our world where so much public and professional life is shaped by incessant and ceaseless toil, often for ends that are less than honourable.

The next seeds fall into shallow ground where they have no moisture and quickly wither away. Perhaps these are like the Christians who simply rely on a superficial understanding of the structures around them. Soil is soil; why should we question it? The soil is in the field; what's the problem? But we have to scrutinise. We have to use our prudence. We have to discern where apparent good disguises a vicious shallowness that would betray us. The seeds that fall in the shallow soil are like the Christians who think Christian conventions will suffice, as if Jesus did not call us to something deeper and more challenging called the Cross.

Finally comes the seed that falls among the thorns ‘and the thorns grew with it and choked it’. Jesus himself tells us that these seed are like people who are choked by the worries and riches and pleasures of life. The thing is, however, that no self-respecting Christian consciously embraces worries, riches and pleasures. So, does this not apply to us? Rather, the risk is that these things become subtly justified. They take on the shape of necessities in a life that can slouch towards increasing infidelity, whereas we only wished to avoid too much rigidity. But what good is salt that has lost its savour? We should not be so rigid that we break; we should not be so indulgent that we unwittingly become spineless.

Perhaps in our relativist world, there is also pressure increasingly to treat the thorns simply as other legitimate forms of life. “The trouble with Jesus,” I imagine one of our contemporaries saying, “is that he thought too narrowly about thorns which are in fact just another type of plant and have seeds of their own, you know! You need to embrace a wider vision of life. Jesus would if he were here today.” If we find the thorns encroaching on us, it is now we who should question our own narrowness, rather than lamenting the thorns' refusal to bear fruit and complaining of their capacity to stifle the gentle life around them.

But it is as Isaiah says:

Woe to those who call evil good

and good evil,

who put darkness for light

and light for darkness,

who put bitter for sweet

and sweet for bitter!   

 

Be the seed that falls on good soil. And God will give the increase.