The Seed that Fell on Clay

May we all flourish under your care, O God, that we may grow like the palms and cedars, producing fruits of righteousness and proclaiming your goodness like healthy, green leaves, in our lives. Amen.

            This is yet another service where I hear the famed (or infamous) Parable of the Sower. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard this parable, especially being read in the (usually) boring ways that people of the collar are wont to do. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard the exact same sermon being read, probably because Jesus provides preachers with enough clues about what to say. As a music director, when planning for the next few Sundays, I was upset to see that this exhausted reading was coming up. When reading through the Gospels, I oftentimes read the first few phrases and skip it to get to something that hasn’t been beaten to death in pulpits, auditoriums, or even blog posts. In fact, for me, this parable falls on me like a seed that falls upon a bed of clay.

“We are the soil…” These are words that I have heard in pretty much every single one of these ruminations on this parable, probably because that is what one can draw from reading Jesus’ explanation of this parable. But, as far as I know, soil does not fix itself. As Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 3:7, “God…gives the growth.” And at the time, people probably didn’t understand the specific details about mycorrhizal structures and the nutrients, but they knew that God provided what was needed in the soil in order for crops to thrive. In fact, in the Pentateuch, or the Torah, God commands the Israelites to be careful with exhausting the soil, commanding something along the lines of crop rotations. But this is all to say that we are responsible for the soil. If we say and understand that we are the soil, it might seem impossible for us to conceive being able to prepare our minds and hearts to receive the word of God.

I have been gardening for over a year and a half now, and I still consider myself a beginner. However, just by starting on this journey, the different metaphors in the Bible speak to me in different ways. Now, this parable focuses on the soil, a substance that has been on my mind this whole time. When I read and watch videos about how to start gardening, it is often described as something very plain and simple: dig a hole, plant a seed or starter, and water when it needs it. However, the soil all around my house is dense, compacted, exhausted, clay. Shoving a shovel into the ground is a chore all on its own, and when it rains (a very frequent occasion here in Houston), the shovel sticks to the clay, and the clay piles on. Oftentimes, in order to dig anything, I need yet another tool, a trowel, to dig and scrape off the clay from the shovel! After trying to get some gardening started around my house, I started to wonder, “why is all this soil clay‽” I just couldn’t stand the fact that I had to do so much extra work in order to get this garden started.

Much of my gardening has required me to do one of three things: dig out the clay and replace it with new soil, add new soil above the clay, or plant in pots. The former two add up quite a bit (I can’t believe how expensive soil is!), and the latter is pretty good, unless I want a shrub or tree to grow quickly, and it still requires me to buy new soil. This past week, my dad was asking me what I wanted for my birthday, and he jokingly suggested he’d get a truckload of dirt delivered to my house, and I responded, “actually, that would be a great gift!”

This past winter, I tried planting some bulbs, and after being fed up with having to deal with the clay soil, I decided to dig up the clay, toss it around a little to break up the clumps, and just place the bulbs wherever and hope for the best. I probably planted 50 bulbs, but I ended up with 3 flowers.

Again, I ask, “why is all this soil clay‽” But then, I have learned that in order to build houses, in order to give them a good foundation, there has to be clay. Otherwise, the house would become unsettled, and the walls would probably start cracking, among many other problems. And, I thank God that our house has been fine for the most part. So, having to deal with the clay doesn’t feel as mindless. But, it is still work that I have to do in order to tend to a garden.

As I said before, this Parable of the Sower has begun to feel like a seed sown in clay. The nutrients have been taken out, the soil has been abandoned, and now there is a resistance to this seed, to the point that it can suffocate if it even tried to germinate and grow. But what do we need to do in order for this clay to be hospitable to the word?

For one, I would really appreciate if people would give a better effort to reading the Word of God out loud. From my understanding of the history of the Scriptures, all of these were spoken words first before being written down, and they have always been meant to be read out loud. Unfortunately, what I have found in most Episcopal churches is that people will read the Bible in a monotone, oftentimes glossing over punctuation, phrasing, and emotions. When I read through the Bible, it usually seems that people were excited whenever they proclaimed their words, and oftentimes the writers of the Bible describe those emotions. Prophets often made fools of themselves just to make a point to anybody who would listen. Royalty would yell at subjects to keep them down. Jesus would proclaim in different places a radical message that was meant to challenge those in power, oftentimes calling out everything that was comfortable. Paul’s language and word choice in his writings are very pointed, and yet I have heard readers just act as if they were reading off some sort of shopping list to a congregation. We need that same energy to come from our readers.

I’ve been an Episcopalian my whole life, and I have heard many Bible stories, especially during Sunday school. I remember one day I was in a retreat on racial reconciliation, and Kathy Culmer was retelling the story of creation, something I had grown up hearing time and again. Yet, when she recited it, she spoke with so much emotion, so much urgency, that I was driven to tears. The words that I had heard so many times and had grown annoyed with, all of a sudden, became something that struck me to my core. She had the way to plant the word of God deep into my being.

Now to talk about this particular parable. What does it mean to tend to the soil in order to nurture the seed, the Word of God? Well, for one thing, we need to look deeply and honestly at what our soil even is. When the construction workers of Sugar Land were trying to build a bunch of houses in the middle of what used to be farmland, they made sure that there was a foundational level of clay soil in order to support the new buildings. But, when I wanted to plant some of my mom’s favorite flowers in that same soil, the clay no longer cut it. I still have to amend the soil with fresh nutrients, the waste of animals that forage on dead leaves, with mulch for the moisture, with so many other things. What are the things that have become compacted and exhausted of nutrients in our churches? How about the music? How about the prayers?

Around 500 years ago, when electricity was just the anger and whim of God, the organ rose as a marvel of technology and architecture. As churches wanted to show off their wealth, they built organs. Both outside and inside the churches, short, repetitive tunes, became popular ways of singing poetry—hymns, if I may. As the tastes in classical music began to embrace different timbres and different instruments, people added onto the organs to make them appeal to this variety of sounds. Choirs grew, and the style of music began to become more measured, just like how much of the music outside the churches did. I wish I could point out what happened in the 20^th century, but I do not understand why church music began to depart from the other tastes in music that were popular outside the church walls. However, when Negro Spirituals and jazz roots began to influence Gospel music, many Episcopal churches said “No!”. When African rhythms, Indigenous instruments, and other languages, especially Spanish, began to give rise to new sacred music, many Episcopal churches said, “No!”. When Asian Christians went into the Christian communities all across East and Southeast Asia and brought back the music that had become integral to their worship, informing the communities here in the US, many Episcopal churches said “No!”. When Christian musicians, born and raised in the US, learned to sing music, to dance, to play it on guitars, banjos, different percussion instruments, and who knows what else, many Episcopal churches said “No!”. We have a nearly 40 year old Hymnal that is filled with “No!” to other cultures, but “Yes!” to Anglocentrism—yes to British folk tunes, yes to Lutheran dance melodies, yes to American pseudo-chants. Our voices, the voices of the oppressed, have been canceled throughout this Church’s history! That is a clay soil we need to fix.

Also, about 500 years ago, a number of theologians started wondering, “what would happen if we started to worship in our vernacular languages? What would happen if we started to worship with our own culture represented?” Some of those theologians began a project that became the Book of Common Prayer. Yet, nowadays, after having a tradition of revisions for nearly 400 years, and after relying on the same one for over 40 years, we are so resistant to incorporating prayers from other cultures. I hear time and again, “If we allow for this prayer/feast/language to happen, it will open up the floodgates.” Let me tell you, the floodgates only burst open like that when they have been shut for much too long. If we have been building this Church on a floodplain that has been devoid of water that comes from just on the other side of the floodgates, the water that becomes toxic to those upriver because it has nowhere else to go. If we rely on shutting all of that out, then definitely, it’s time to flood the Church with all that has been missing this whole time. Racism holds up the floods of people who need Jesus. Homophobia holds up the floods of people feeling that they are born just to be condemned to Hell. Transphobia holds up the floods of people who seek communion with God. The plutocracy within this Church has been holding up the floods of people who cannot have a voice just because they are poor.

In fact, of all the things that Jesus points to in this parable, the most concrete image is that of wealth. It is the lure of wealth that chokes out the word of God, and I know that the lure of wealth has been choking this Church for years. Now is the time to give to those who need it. Now is the time to open up the floodgates. Now is the time to break the soil that has been compacted by hording up wealth, privileging people with certain theologies or influences, and really tend to the soil. Now is the time to scrape our hands against the thorns that cover the soil, now is the time for us to bleed as we clear the way for the rich nutrients, and, even more so, for the good seeds of God’s Word.

We have become too comfortable as a Church to the point that there is very little that can grow in the soil that we have control over. When we have programs for evangelism led by white people, made in an institution headed by white people, in order for mostly white people to learn how to minister to white people, only the same white plant will grow. It will take root at the surface, flower for a moment, and then die away; a yield of just onefold.

When we have theology that involves just talking to white people about issues of racism, sexism, homophobia, and a host of other issues, we will just get the same white answer. Even now, we have people of color who are trying to blend in with this theology by accepting the white model. Rather than inculturate and bring our experiences to the meeting tables, the ones in those fancy hotels or neo-gothic buildings, where money just seems to be in the air we breathe, some of us are just accepting this white, exclusive model in order to make it in this institution. It’s so difficult to survive in an institution where racism and classism are key. However, when we take a moment to start tearing this down, when we take time to tend to the soil, cut off the weeds and thorns, when we take time to dig deep and really fix the underlying problems that restrict all sorts of growth, then we will be able to witness the growth.

You see, there are already people doing the work, the arduous work of cracking the clay, of mixing in the nutrients, of adding that good soil that others have created, of renewing all that we need for this garden to thrive. There are people calling out racism, calling for change, and there are people who are actually explaining what exactly to do! There are books out there, podcasts, videos, sermons, workshops, that are already out there to help make this all happen. However, when we receive these seeds, we need to tend to our own soil, to all that we have allowed to happen. Do we know if the soil in our lives is exhausted? We have to look at what we do. Are we doing the same thing, reading the same passages, reciting the same prayers, preaching the same sermons? Even in Jesus’ lifetime, in the three year period of the Gospels, we read that Jesus had to teach those who were already “in the know” in so many different ways. There are parables, like the one we read today, and there are exhortations, condemnations, calls to action, healings, miracles, and so many other things: all in three years. Now let’s look at our own lives. Are we doing the same thing over and over again? Perhaps we need to refresh our soil. Perhaps we need to find the shovels and trowels to dig deep. This will never be a one time thing. Let us remember that our faith is living, and the Sower continues to sow. It is time for us to prepare our soil for the Word.