Readings:
Psalm 38
Isaiah 44:24-45:7
Ephesians 5:1-14
Mark 4:1-20
Sermon:
In today’s Gospel reading, Our Lord teaches us the parable of the sower, one in which He Himself gives us the meaning, and from which we can draw many applications to our daily lives.
Our Lord tells us that our hearts are like soil. What kind of dirt are we? We would like to think that we are good dirt, rich and fertile, that can take a tiny seed and make it grow forth into a mighty crop. We might admit that we have our share of thorns and thistles, that we are easily distracted by the cares of the world. But none of us wants to think that we could be bad dirt, that our hearts could be so hard and dry that nothing could grow there.
Those of us who garden know the importance of good dirt. Some of us are blessed with soil that takes little preparation for planting, that we can just dig down and pop a plant into and watch it grow. More likely though, we have to clear out an accumulation of rocks and weeds and add in compost and fertilizer before we can get a successful crop. Then we have to constantly weed it and keep it watered and protect it from parasites, or our fruits and vegetables will rot on the vine.
On the other hand, we know bad dirt too when we see it, dirt that’s little more than sand or dust, dirt that can barely grow weeds, let alone beautiful flowers. Sometimes it’s been damaged by overuse, or by erosion, or by toxic chemicals that have been dumped there. But whatever the reason, it’s dead dirt.
Into this dirt, the sower sows his seed. The seed, the Word of God, is cast into every kind of dirt, some of it sprouting into life, some of it being blown away or trampled underfoot. We might think this is a wasteful way of planting, that it would be better to concentrate on the soil where it has the best chance of growing strong and healthy vines. But this is where Our Lord’s grace and mercy prove so much better than anything our worldly wisdom can tell us. While we may give up on a bad patch of garden, He can take that dead dirt and make it new again, making it burst forth with life.
In Isaiah we read that:
The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; (Isa. 35:1-2)
This is no more of a miracle than the work that the Holy Spirit can perform in even the hardest, driest hearts. We see it in the life of St. Paul, once a murderous persecutor of Christ’s followers who went on to spread the Gospel at the cost of his own persecution and eventual martyrdom. We see it in the life of John Newton, the captain of a slave ship who repented of this great sin and spent the rest of his life as an ordained minister, fighting injustice in society and uplifting his brothers and sisters in Christ with songs such as Amazing Grace. We can see it in the lives of captors who have set their hostages free, escaping with them into freedom.
In October of last year, two men emerged from the jungles of Colombia. One was Oscar Lizcano, a Colombian senator and university professor who had been held captive by FARC guerillas for eight years. During those 8 years, he endured hunger and sickness and the constant threat of death. But the worst part, he said, was the loneliness: his captors refused to talk to him. He somehow managed to hang on to his sanity by standing sticks in the dirt, pretending that they were his students and lecturing them on history, literature, and politics. But they were just sticks and could not respond.
Then slowly, a change came. One of his captors, a young man who had joined the rebel army at the age of 12, began playing chess with Sen. Lizcano in the evenings and talking about his life. Over the next months the relationship grew to the point that Isaza, the young captor, repented of the harm he had done to Sen. Lizcano and determined to help him escape. They spent three days hiding from search parties until they stumbled upon a Colombian army patrol, with the senator being rescued and Isaza being arrested. But then, another surprise took place: Sen. Lizcano asked that Isaza be set free, as he had helped restore his freedom. Isaza was granted political asylum in France, and is now calling on FARC members to end their rebellion and free their more than 700 remaining hostages. So far, about a dozen have answered this call, and last week, two more hostages were brought to freedom.
This is a dramatic example of a cold, dead heart being brought back to life, but we can see many more in our everyday life. We can see it in the lives of addicts and alcoholics who are able, with God’s help, to break the chains that bind them. We see it our own lives, when God sets us free from years of grudges and resentments and lets the fruit of the spirit grow in our hearts instead of the thorns and thistles that formerly inhabited it. Whether in our own lives or those around us, we can see God’s word and spirit at work, softening even the hardest hearts and making them ripe for harvest. Thank God that where we can only see a dead, lifeless patch, He can see a piece of Eden.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
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