The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost (RCL, Year A, Proper 10)
July 13, 2008
The Reverend Paul R. Abernathy, Rector
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“My word shall not return to me empty, but shall accomplish that which I purpose.”[1] Thus saith the Lord this most
important word – choosing to speak directly and not through the mouth of the prophet Isaiah.
In Hebrew theology, the word of Yahweh, God’s word, once spoken accomplishes, does what is uttered. Verily, in Hebrew, the words “word” and
“deed” are the same word. So, for God the spoken word is the manifestation, the externalization of God’s person. Conversely, God’s personal actions
are words.
Here, then, is the height of meaning: When word and deed, when orality and activity are one.
It is no surprise, then, that today’s passage is preceded by that familiar verse, declaring the cosmic difference between God and us: “My thoughts are
not your thoughts nor your ways my ways, says the Lord.”[2]
No kidding!
God’s ways are so unlike ours and ours so, well, ungodly. For when we speak, even when we say, “my word is my bond,” or “on my word you can rely,” we
know that our utterance is only as true as our subsequent actions to bring it to pass. Often enough our inactions prove our word to have been something
less than true. Or is it that we changed our minds and simply forgot to say? Or is it that there is always a difference between what we say and what
we mean – that difference lying in the fact that we are always in the process of becoming. Each moment of existence being the sum of all that has
come before. Who, then, among us can know what we mean when we say a word in time whose fulfillment must be at some future time?
I suppose that is one reason why we humans need contracts and an entire legal industry to interpret and enforce them when (not if) we
fail to understand and honor them. But not with God. There is an instantaneity with God – word and deed, orality and activity are one.
So our Hebrew forebears understood, beholding in God an immediacy that was like the rain, falling from the clouds, instantly watering the earth. So
with God’s word – once uttered, it does what it says.
This difference between God and us helps us understand our gospel passage, often called the Parable of the Sower[3] –
Jesus, who in his ministry spread God’s word. A word that he did.
When Jesus said that the cost of discipleship entailed talking up a cross and following him,[4]immediately he took
up his cross and, following his cause, died.
No wonder people throughout the ages believed Jesus to be God, for they saw in him the same immediacy of word and deed, the same instantaneity of
utterance and fulfillment that the ancient prophets beheld in Yahweh.
With this difference in mind between God and Jesus and us, looking afresh at this parable, the focus is not on the sower, Jesus, the
constant of the story, but rather, the ever changing soil. Us. Even more, it isn’t a matter of what kind of soil we are, but rather
when we are one or the other, for you and I change. All the time. Still more, this is one place in scripture where I take Jesus literally.
At his word.
When I think of you and me as “the path,” I don’t conceive of those hard beaten places in our lives where trial and tribulation have left us
hard-bitten, bitter, although surely we all know such parts of ourselves. Rather, Jesus associates the path with a lack of understanding.
Anything beyond our experience and learning is not, cannot be understood. Sometimes even when experienced, the thing is simply too complex,
defying comprehension. Sometimes that which is beyond the grasp of the intellect can be embraced psychically, spiritually to the point where at
some future “Aha!” moment” a revelation dawns and instantly we know that what has been revealed had already been known. Sometimes we may choose
not to understand, for to understand would require a change we do not wish to make.
So being on the path isn’t about bitterness, but denseness.
“Rocky ground,” according to Jesus, isn’t cluttered, but shallow. Reflecting on my life, how often this has been true of me. Given to serial pursuits,
a kaleidoscopic array of ever changing enthusiasms, all scintillating and, when the “trouble” of long term commitment arose, all short lived. So,
Jesus, I “get” you!
He, then, associates “thorns” with “the cares of the world and the lure of wealth.” Not “bad” things. In fact, necessary things. Hearth and home
and mortgage payments. Relationships and courtships, marriage or partnerships and the joys and struggles that come with those commitments.
Jobs and careers and financial security or insecurity. These “cares of the world” can so occupy, preoccupy us that they become our valued
goals and no longer the symbols or reflections of what and how we value.
Perhaps in reaching this point, we may see that the focus of the parable is the sower, more precisely the seed, and most precisely its fruit –
for again the emphasis through the lens of Isaiah is on word and deed, utterance and fulfillment.
The question is do we value, that is, understand God’s word and so become soil that can receive the seed and bear the fruit of that word?
What is the word of God? No one can, verily, dare tell you what it is for you, for the specifics of God’s word are as individual as the one to whom
they are spoken. However, generally, looking at the parable and, even more, the life of the one who spoke it, I can and dare say this. The word
of God is any word that calls us to die to ourselves for the sake of others. Any word that calls us to self-sacrifice. Any word that calls us to
unconditional love and justice.
When that word is spoken to us, we will know that it is God’s word and that we are “good soil,” for immediately the fruit of the seed, which
is action, will be born in us and borne by us.
[1] Isaiah 55.11. The Hebrew scripture passage appointed for the day is Isaiah 55.10-13.
