Sermon: Sixth Sunday after Pentecost - July 12, 2020

 

JULY 12, 2020 

Passage: Matthew 11:16-30

Click here for video of the worship service. A transcript of the sermon is below.

So as we consider this morning’s reading, the first thought that came to my mind, and you might not get the connection right away but stick with me, is “Divide and Conquer.” It becomes a mantra in many households with young children. It can quickly progress from being a mantra to being a way of life, to divide and conquer. I still remember my early days with my oldest; it was my husband who could soothe him in the evenings. So, he would sit on the couch separate from me, and I would get a break from holding and soothing the child who was seemingly un-soothable all day long, and he would magically put him to sleep. After all day long of trying to soothe a child who pulled his legs up to his chest and screamed as if in pain, my husband could just make him happy. Turned out, that kid had reflux, so if your kid does that, look into it.

 

Then there were two, and the colicky infant’s needs took my attention, while my husband lovingly entertained and cared for our toddler. Then there were three under four years old. At that point, life became more of a triage, tending to whomever had the greatest need in the moment. Dividing and conquering, one of us going wherever we were most needed. I dedicated my days to caring for them at home while my husband went to work to learn a living and provide for us, then on the weekends, he would take the kids to a park or out to play, so I could get the household things done that I couldn’t get done during the week.

 

 This division can become even more prevalent in homes with children with special needs which, at one point, we discovered we also had. Three children with ADHD, one with Autism Spectrum Disorder, anxiety, depression, and the unique blessing of parenting a transgender child. Divide and conquer. The death of a parent. Divide and conquer. And if we aren’t careful, we continue to divide and conquer even when the needs become such that it’s no longer necessary. Solo grocery trips. Time alone instead of time together. Coping, instead of living.

 

And this can happen in all aspects of our lives, not just as parents: it happens in our workplaces, in our families, our relationships. We divide and divide and divide until we feel like we’re facing all of the world’s challenges alone. And alone, they seem impossible and insurmountable, overwhelm and fear and even apathy can set in, and we can become immobilized.

 

I’d like to suggest that one way to read this story of the sower is to consider the different types of soil are the many different realities into which we find ourselves divided in this world. Some by virtue of our current reality, or the reality in which they are born, live on the path. When the seeds of faith are sown, we are in a constant state of being trodden upon by those traveling from here to there, and the seeds are kicked. They’re scattered and ultimately gobbled up by the birds. Some live on rocky ground; the seeds quickly take root, and there’s joy. But the soil is unable to sustain life, and the roots can’t grow deep.

 

I’m familiar with this kind of soil because I live in a new development where they strip off all of the good, deep, dark soil, and leave just a tiny little layer. So, when you go to plant a tree, or three trees in three years, they quickly die, which I experienced. They were good trees, but the soil couldn’t nourish them.

 

Some of us live among thorns, which Jesus names as the cares of the world and the lure of wealth. Our jobs, our children’s activities, living beyond our means constantly, or striving to keep the pace, or simply watching others live with luxuries we can’t afford and longing for them. These desires are the thorns that choke the Word. And finally, we have the good soil. As Jesus said, “as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the Word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields in one case a hundred fold, in another sixty, and in another, thirty.

 

That part’s particularly interesting, given what Jesus said that is not included in today’s reading. There’s a bunch of verses that are skipped in our lectionary. At that point, Jesus explains to the disciples, separate from the people who He’s talking to, “the reason I speak to them in parables is that seeing, they do not perceive and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand. But blessed are your eyes, for they see and your ears, for they hear. Truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.” It seems kinda cruel when you put it that way.

 

 I'm sure you've heard sermons that would encourage you to be good soil. To position your lives in the way that faith can be sown in your heart and provide a yield. Nothing pains me more than the days when I worked with young moms in a mom's group and listened to moms talk about how they needed stronger faith, and they needed to be responsible for that. For that gift of faith that is God's work in our lives in baptism. See, the thing is we don't understand our faith as any work of our own. Our faith is a gift of God, right down to the ability for it to be nurtured and to grow.

 

Even the disciples were not good soil on their own. We can read lots of stories about them not getting it. They required Jesus to explain the parable. If we read scripture, we can look back to Isaiah, which Ardie read for us, to see how we might expect the Word of God to work for us, “For as the rain and snow come down from heaven. So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth. It shall not return empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” In verse 13, “Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress, instead of the briar shall come up the myrtle. And it shall be to the Lord for a memorial for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

 

 Sounds like the very work of God is to transform the soil itself. Fragrant myrtle instead of thorny briar. Mighty cypress instead of brittle thorns. Now these words were written to a people in exile, to people who've been conquered by the Babylonian Empire. They were written to proclaim a word of hope overran against a policy of empire that brought death and destruction. It was a promise that God is with God's people always, even in exile. So if God's word does what God wills, and God sends rain and snow from heaven, how do we reconcile this God with the parable in which Jesus seemingly tells us faith is dependent on this soil in which the seeds are grown?

 

 Perhaps, the different types of soil Jesus mentioned are a product of division. When we divide and conquer, divide and conquer, we ceased to see the experience of the other. What we don't realize is, perhaps, in a world bound by sin, none of us is entirely good soil. Some live on the path, trodden by people seeking better ground, never able to see the seeds on the path because the foot on their neck keeps them from looking up. Others live on rocky ground; they are ready to embrace faith with joy and to live in the promise that it brings, but are constantly having it die in their hands as they tend to their own basic needs: finding shelter, finding food, finding clothing, struggling to make a life that just provides for basic needs.

 

 And perhaps those most blind to our circumstances are those of us living in the thorns. We are #blessed with enough to meet our daily needs and enough to fear losing the savings we've accumulated for our retirement. Our own wealth is the thorn that chokes the Word. We want to embrace faith, and in many ways we do. It can take root. We dedicate time together for worship. We participate in the rituals of the church. We have fellowship with one another. But the thorns are there. We worry about our savings, and it keeps us from doing things to invest in our faith community and in the community around us. We worry about our good name, and it keeps us from working on behalf of the good of our neighbor. Our desires to have a good life and provide a good life keep us from completely giving ourselves over to faith, the faith that drives out fear, that according to Luther's doctrine of vocation, God does not need our good works in our vocation, but our neighbor does.

 

Our relationship with God is based completely on God's work for us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Justification by faith alone excludes any kind of dependence of our own good works for salvation. We come before God clothed, not in our own work or merit, but solely in the working merit of Christ. Christ, who had to explain this complicated parable to the disciples. That's a gift. But having been justified by faith, we are sent back into the world into our vocations, into our lives, to love and serve our neighbor. That is the good soil: giving our life away for the sake of the neighbor as faith takes root and grows, even when it means questioning the allegiances that make up our identity, even when it means accepting that our own experiences, the history we've learned, the heritage we cling to, is only part of the story of the world that God so loves. Even when it means turning to the neighbor with whom we disagree and, instead of saying “You're wrong,” saying “tell me why you feel that way.”

 

We're only able to do this in part. The evil one Jesus mentions as the one that chokes out, gobbles up, or causes the root of faith to die, is part of living on Earth. In this place, between the coming of Christ, in which we find the gift of faith and salvation in God in Christ Jesus, and the ultimate Kingdom, which God has promised in which we will experience an in which God is bringing to earth bit by bit, day by day, our efforts are incomplete. We're going to feel like the problems of the world are too great for what we can offer. And they are. Our efforts alone will not reconcile God to God's creation, only God. But when we offer our meager efforts, when we seek to enter into division and into the pain we see around us and seek to understand, when we no longer divide and conquer, but multiply God's goodness, we get a glimpse. And that glimpse of God's Kingdom is so beautiful, so amazing, so awe-inspiring that it keeps us longing for the day when we will all live on good soil; all will be nourished by the seeds of faith, and all will be one in God's love. No longer divided. No need to conquer. Truly blessed. Amen.