A sower went out to sow.
The sower sowed abundantly, even with apparent reckless disregard to circumstances. The abundant availability of seed tends to have a consequence which the sower did not intend, that the seed be taken for granted. For example, we could consider this parable as a seed, one which is commonplace all over, especially in the Church and the memories of those who have heard it time and again from the pews. But this very attitude, that we have heard it before and know it, causes us to run the risk of becoming path rather than soil, and of not letting it at all penetrate our hearts this time. And if we let ourselves become a people who only truly listen the first or second times that we hear the word of God it will never penetrate very deeply into the soil of our hearts. It will be very easy for the birds to come and take it from us, convincing us that it was never anything substantial or significant in the first place.
Some fell on rocky ground, where it had little soil.
Rocky ground is a bit better than the path. There are at least cracks between the rocks where soil is found. But this kind of partial receptivity is apparently insufficient. If we approach the word with a 'take it or leave it' attitude, only paying attention when it happens to captivate and entertain there may initially be some response, some springing up from the shallow soil, but not nearly enough to sustain us during the heat of the day. We ought instead try to be more completely and actively receptive to the seed.
Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it.
Even once we receive the seed we ought not expect it to out compete the world at emotional immediacy. Anxieties and riches and the cares of life in this world will still choke the seed if we don't provide a private and privileged space of silence in the depths of our hearts for the word to grow. If we try to set the word alongside our anxieties and fix our attention on both together equally it will be hard not to focus on our fear and forget the word. We are meant, then, as much as we are able, to give precedence to the word, to trust what it says about our fears, and our anxieties, to imagine what it promises as rewards rather than what the world promises. It isn't is hard as it sounds. When we find thorns springing up from our soil we might simply try speaking the promises we find in the word of God and see if this isn't an effective weedkiller. Jesus himself exposed the vanity of riches, the shortsightedness of worldly fears, and gave us something better and more certain in which to hope.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid (see John 14:27).
We can learn a lesson from the manna in the desert. The Israelites were only able to gather enough for the day. Any extra would not keep overnight, except before the Sabbath when they were able to store enough for the following day. We think of the Eucharist as our daily bread. And this is true. But the word of God must also be nourishment to which we constantly return. It isn't possible to learn some lessons in childhood and take away enough to sustain us for life. The Lord has new things to teach us all the time. His word has the power to speak to the specific circumstances of our daily life. This is what it means when we say that the word is living and active (see Hebrews 4:12).
Let us gather the bread from heaven, both in the word and in the Eucharist. Let us learn to rely on it for strength, for counsel, and for wisdom, as it becomes for us the very source of our life.
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