What Sort Of Soil Does Our Church Offer?
Sermon
Most people of any age love a story, and stories are often remembered fairly easily and enjoyed over and over again. Jesus was a wonderful storyteller, and was well aware that one of the most effective ways of getting truths across to people is through the form of a story. So he told stories to illustrate his thinking.
Today's gospel parable of the sower is one of the best known parables told by Jesus. So it seems odd that in the second part of today's reading Jesus went into such an involved explanation of the meaning of the parable. On other occasions he mostly left people to make their own connections, to draw their own truths from his words. But on this occasion he appears to have spelt out the meaning in words of one syllable.
Most scholars now hold the view that the explanation derives not from Jesus, but from early Christian reflection upon the straying from the faith which was occurring in the early church, as a result of both persecution and worldliness. So we're given a little homily by the editor of the gospel about people who have no staying power under persecution and about people who let wealth get in the way of the things of God.
In past years of church-going, you'll all have heard both that explanation and about a thousand sermons on it! So is there anything else we can gain from the parable? Is there any other way of looking at it?
I realise the seed was sown by hand, with a sort of sideways sweep of the arm so that the seed fell as evenly as possible. But even so, perhaps a little more care could have been taken over the margins of the field.
And who is the sower anyway? I always vaguely thought it was God or Jesus himself. But I wonder whether we, the Christian church, are the sowers?
How do we sprinkle the seed, the word of God, if at all? How much trouble do we take to present the word, to sow the seed, in such a way that people can really hear it? In such a way that it's immediate and relevant to people's lives?
And perhaps this brings us on to the state of the soil. How much responsibility does the sower have to maintain the soil? To ensure as far as possible the soil is full of goodness? Perhaps if the sower had taken a little more trouble over the state of the soil, more seed would have taken root.
Suppose we take this parable to refer not so much to individuals, some of whom respond to the word of God, some of whom don't, but to communities, to churches.
I suspect some churches are like rocky ground. They work hard sowing the word, and there's an immediate and enthusiastic response. But it seems to stop there. There's no depth to their teaching. They avoid difficult questions, like, for instance, the problem of suffering. They tend to rely on heightened emotion, often using a style of music to heighten the emotions. But their teaching is simplistic and therefore not satisfying for very long. In St. Paul's terms, they provide a milk diet but fail to move onto the meat.
They often have an excellent and enthusiastic response to mission, but the growth isn't sustained. The seed grows, but withers away through lack of moisture.
Then there are those churches who sprinkle a little seed (and it's usually very little!) on the path, and somehow fail to realise they've missed the soil altogether. They say things like: "We're OK as we are. We're not going to change, because we like the way things are, the way they've always been. Church isn't about numbers, it's about the faithful few. We have invited people to come to our services, but they don't want to know these days. It's a waste of time even asking them."
These are churches where the seed is trodden underfoot. Trodden under the foot of the way it's always been. Of the way which is most comfortable and least demanding. The seeds never have a chance to even begin growing. They're simply devoured by the birds.
Because these churches aren't prepared to entertain any disturbances to their way of life. And their way of doing things might be threatened by any prospect of new growth.
What about the churches where the seed falls among thorns, which grow with it and choke it? Perhaps these churches are the direct opposite of those who sprinkle seed on the path. Because these churches are very much concerned with being part of the real world. So much so, they tend to bend over backwards to accommodate the world. In their anxiety not to exclude anyone or anything, their teaching is unclear, indistinct.
They rarely mention God, because people might be offended or put off. Boundaries are so blurred, no-one is sure where they lie, or even whether they exist at all. The church seems to have no particular identity. It's a sort of chameleon, taking on the colour and shape of its surroundings. And it offers very little to distinguish Christianity from the rest of life. These are churches where anything goes.
And what about the churches which provide good soil, good solid nourishment? Well, I guess they take something from each of the other churches. They reach out in mission, so that other people in the community have some chance to hear the word. But then they encourage a maturing faith. A faith which isn't afraid of the difficult questions, and is prepared to follow those questions wherever they might lead, because they're going to lead to the truth.
These are churches which are prepared to adapt what suits them, so that other people might be enabled to hear. They give and they take. They listen and they respond to the needs of the community. But they're not prepared to surrender the solid base of their worship, because they're aware a solid base is essential as a firm foundation for any growth.
And they're churches which are inclusive. They don't exclude anyone, because whilst they won't allow thorns to choke the seeds, they're sensible enough to allow some thorns to grow up alongside the seeds. "Wheat and tares together sown, unto joy or sorrow grown."
They're aware Christians must be part of the world. Not removed from it. Not sheltering in some ivory palace. Not wringing their hands helplessly over the morals of society. Not crying over the way things once were.
These churches know where the boundaries lie, but they don't pass judgement, because they're aware judgement belongs to God alone. They make it quite clear Christian standards are very high indeed, and rather different from the world's standards. And they're not afraid to acknowledge the place God has in their lives.
I wonder what sort of soil our church offers? And I wonder how we should maintain the quality of our soil? And I wonder how we nurture the seedlings? And I wonder just what sort of sowers we are?
The parable of the sower is a story. We have a story too. The story of our church. It's a story which has a beginning and a middle. But I guess it's up to us to decide how that story should continue. It's up to us to determine the next chapter. So I want to leave you with a question. Where do we go from here?
Today's gospel parable of the sower is one of the best known parables told by Jesus. So it seems odd that in the second part of today's reading Jesus went into such an involved explanation of the meaning of the parable. On other occasions he mostly left people to make their own connections, to draw their own truths from his words. But on this occasion he appears to have spelt out the meaning in words of one syllable.
Most scholars now hold the view that the explanation derives not from Jesus, but from early Christian reflection upon the straying from the faith which was occurring in the early church, as a result of both persecution and worldliness. So we're given a little homily by the editor of the gospel about people who have no staying power under persecution and about people who let wealth get in the way of the things of God.
In past years of church-going, you'll all have heard both that explanation and about a thousand sermons on it! So is there anything else we can gain from the parable? Is there any other way of looking at it?
I realise the seed was sown by hand, with a sort of sideways sweep of the arm so that the seed fell as evenly as possible. But even so, perhaps a little more care could have been taken over the margins of the field.
And who is the sower anyway? I always vaguely thought it was God or Jesus himself. But I wonder whether we, the Christian church, are the sowers?
How do we sprinkle the seed, the word of God, if at all? How much trouble do we take to present the word, to sow the seed, in such a way that people can really hear it? In such a way that it's immediate and relevant to people's lives?
And perhaps this brings us on to the state of the soil. How much responsibility does the sower have to maintain the soil? To ensure as far as possible the soil is full of goodness? Perhaps if the sower had taken a little more trouble over the state of the soil, more seed would have taken root.
Suppose we take this parable to refer not so much to individuals, some of whom respond to the word of God, some of whom don't, but to communities, to churches.
I suspect some churches are like rocky ground. They work hard sowing the word, and there's an immediate and enthusiastic response. But it seems to stop there. There's no depth to their teaching. They avoid difficult questions, like, for instance, the problem of suffering. They tend to rely on heightened emotion, often using a style of music to heighten the emotions. But their teaching is simplistic and therefore not satisfying for very long. In St. Paul's terms, they provide a milk diet but fail to move onto the meat.
They often have an excellent and enthusiastic response to mission, but the growth isn't sustained. The seed grows, but withers away through lack of moisture.
Then there are those churches who sprinkle a little seed (and it's usually very little!) on the path, and somehow fail to realise they've missed the soil altogether. They say things like: "We're OK as we are. We're not going to change, because we like the way things are, the way they've always been. Church isn't about numbers, it's about the faithful few. We have invited people to come to our services, but they don't want to know these days. It's a waste of time even asking them."
These are churches where the seed is trodden underfoot. Trodden under the foot of the way it's always been. Of the way which is most comfortable and least demanding. The seeds never have a chance to even begin growing. They're simply devoured by the birds.
Because these churches aren't prepared to entertain any disturbances to their way of life. And their way of doing things might be threatened by any prospect of new growth.
What about the churches where the seed falls among thorns, which grow with it and choke it? Perhaps these churches are the direct opposite of those who sprinkle seed on the path. Because these churches are very much concerned with being part of the real world. So much so, they tend to bend over backwards to accommodate the world. In their anxiety not to exclude anyone or anything, their teaching is unclear, indistinct.
They rarely mention God, because people might be offended or put off. Boundaries are so blurred, no-one is sure where they lie, or even whether they exist at all. The church seems to have no particular identity. It's a sort of chameleon, taking on the colour and shape of its surroundings. And it offers very little to distinguish Christianity from the rest of life. These are churches where anything goes.
And what about the churches which provide good soil, good solid nourishment? Well, I guess they take something from each of the other churches. They reach out in mission, so that other people in the community have some chance to hear the word. But then they encourage a maturing faith. A faith which isn't afraid of the difficult questions, and is prepared to follow those questions wherever they might lead, because they're going to lead to the truth.
These are churches which are prepared to adapt what suits them, so that other people might be enabled to hear. They give and they take. They listen and they respond to the needs of the community. But they're not prepared to surrender the solid base of their worship, because they're aware a solid base is essential as a firm foundation for any growth.
And they're churches which are inclusive. They don't exclude anyone, because whilst they won't allow thorns to choke the seeds, they're sensible enough to allow some thorns to grow up alongside the seeds. "Wheat and tares together sown, unto joy or sorrow grown."
They're aware Christians must be part of the world. Not removed from it. Not sheltering in some ivory palace. Not wringing their hands helplessly over the morals of society. Not crying over the way things once were.
These churches know where the boundaries lie, but they don't pass judgement, because they're aware judgement belongs to God alone. They make it quite clear Christian standards are very high indeed, and rather different from the world's standards. And they're not afraid to acknowledge the place God has in their lives.
I wonder what sort of soil our church offers? And I wonder how we should maintain the quality of our soil? And I wonder how we nurture the seedlings? And I wonder just what sort of sowers we are?
The parable of the sower is a story. We have a story too. The story of our church. It's a story which has a beginning and a middle. But I guess it's up to us to decide how that story should continue. It's up to us to determine the next chapter. So I want to leave you with a question. Where do we go from here?
