July 10, 2005: God’s Perfect Seeds

+THE FIFTEENTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME


In the past, whenever I heard today’s parable of the sower and the seeds, I’d always focus on the different places where the seed could wind up: on the path, on the rocky ground, in the rich soil, and so on. I took the gospel to mean that by our choices in life, we could determine how well we would thrive—in this life, but even more importantly, in our eternal life to come.

Yet this time, the Holy Spirit touched my heart in a completely different way. That’s one of the beauties of the Sacred Scriptures. Because it’s the living word of God, it can always speak to us in fresh, new ways.

This time, I thought about the seed rather than the place where the seed wound up.

The seed, of course, was made by God. He is the sower and the creator. Our God is all-loving, all-wise, all-perfect in every way… therefore, the seed—his creation—is also perfect and whole. By God’s standards, there are no seeds that are duds… no seeds that are weak or that won’t sprout or that will by accident become freaks of nature. And of course, you and I, my sisters and brothers, are those seeds.

But wow. We look around and see lots of people who just don’t strike us as being the product of perfect seeds. This one has a terrible physical disability. That one is stricken with an aggressive cancer in the prime of life. The one over there suffers from crippling depression. Another is gay or lesbian and is treated like a leper—even in our church. Still another is horribly burdened with an addiction. From the outside looking in, we might be sorely tempted to say that these are not perfect or whole seeds.

And worse still, these very people may judge themselves even more harshly. As you can well imagine, thinking about yourself as being deficient or broken can be a real obstacle in a loving, trusting relationship with God.

In Hinduism, there is a concept known as samsara. They call this the world of illusion—the place where most of us live. They say that mistaking illusion for reality is a key reason for our suffering. Yet in a mysterious way, suffering itself can release us from illusion. In times of crisis when we reach for what we think is our strength, we stumble upon our real power... all the perfection and wholeness, you might say, that is built into our seed.

St. Paul talks today about suffering. He says that it’s nothing compared with the glory that will be revealed for us. We wait with eager expectation while we groan away in this life. The trick, then, is to see our suffering not as reality… but as samsara… illusion. Or better yet, we see that the cross is our stepping stone to the reality of our whole and perfect life with Christ.

Coming to wholeness is not just something that happens to us after death… after our earthly suffering is over. Far from it. It should be a process for us as all the while as we venture through life.

I think we all know people who have undergone some crisis in life that then becomes a defining moment. The cancer survivor who goes out and is passionate about educating others about early detection and prevention. The parent who loses a child to a drunk driver who advocates fervently. The accident victim who ministers to others in the same boat with great love and empathy. Even in our own church, the victims of priest-pedophiles who demand accountability and reform from our bishops. In each case, through the experience of profound suffering, the discovery of wholeness and life’s mission emerge. That’s why Jesus says that no one comes to life except through the cross.

The problem for most of us is that we see the cross as something terrible… something to be avoided at all costs. Discomfort… sacrifice… self-denial… losses and setbacks according to our preconceived notions… these are all dirty words. By fleeing, however, we may be cutting ourselves off or turning a blind eye to God’s grace.

There’s a story about Jesus and Mary in their heavenly abode watching over the earth. Naturally they are touched by the challenges and constant suffering of human life. As they’re watching, Mary sees a very poor man walking down a road. Her heart is moved with motherly compassion. Touched by the man’s goodness and struggle, she turns to Jesus and begs him to give this man some gold. Christ looks at the man for a long moment. “My dearest Mother,” he says, “I cannot do that.” Mary is astounded. “Why, what do you mean, my Son? You are Lord of the universe. Why can’t you do this simple thing?”

Jesus replies, “I cannot give this to him because he is not yet ready to receive it.” Mary is disturbed. “Do you mean to say that you cannot drop a bag of gold in his path?”

“Surely I can,” Jesus answers, “but that is quite another thing.”

“Please, my Son,” says Mary.

And so Jesus drops a bag of gold in the man’s path.

The man meanwhile walks along thinking to himself, “I wonder if I will find dinner tonight—or shall I go hungry again?” Turning a bend in the road, he sees something on the path in his way. “Aha,” he says. “Look there, a large rock. How fortunate that I have seen it. I might have torn these poor sandals of mine even further.” And carefully stepping over the bag of gold, he goes on his way.

Dear friends, it seems that life drops many bags of gold in our path. Rarely do they look like what they are. In fact, I propose to you that wherever you see or experience pain, troubles, crises or other sufferings in life, the gold isn’t far away.

Yes, we are God’s perfect seeds—whole and beloved. Where he happens to plant us is a place for us to grow and thrive if we but look with eyes of faith and trust with a heart of love.


Today’s Readings:
Isaiah 55: 10–11
Psalm 65
Romans 8: 18–23
Matthew 13: 1–23