Proper 10 A, Isaiah 55:1-5, 10-13, Psalm 65:9-14, Romans 8:9-17, Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23 The Rev. J. Brian Ponder, Chaplain Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi July 10, 2005 In the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen. In his book of prayers, entitled Guerillas of Grace, Ted Loder offers the following prayer. Lord, I believe my life is touched by you, that you want something for me, and of me. Give me ears to hear you, eyes to see the tracing of your finger, and a heart, quickened by the motions of your Spirit. --Loder, p. 29 I find Loder's prayer to be both insightful and moving. It's a prayer of confession and conversion. It's a prayer of transformation. It's simple, yet at the same time is quite profound. This prayer expresses a yearning desire for connection. It's well-rooted, well-grounded in an understanding of relationship and covenant. And today, I dare say, it's our common prayer. At least five times in today's lessons, and perhaps more depending on the translation, we receive a command. It's a command to cut through the noise of our harried and hurried lives. It's an invitation to stop amidst the busy-ness that threatens to consume our very being--whatever that busy-ness may be. It's an instruction to "Listen!" Repeatedly, we are ordered, almost like children, to "Listen up!" much like a coach trying to get the attention of his team at time-out, or a CEO trying to convey a new protocol to her employees--much like anyone trying to get into a silence that allows for instruction and breakthrough and something new. Something's going on here, and we are told … not simply encouraged … but commanded to "Hear," to be open and attentive to the Word and working of God in our very midst! … Oh that we might have ears to hear you, O Lord! Listening … waiting … quietening … stilling ourselves to become attuned to the working of the Other in the world around us, the working of God in our very midst … God's working within us. We are called into this kind of quietness today … to listen for that still small voice echoing the call of God, that moving of the Spirit filling us, that shout welling up, if we but stop to hear it. It's not so much a moment to ready ourselves to receive it, as it is a moment of intervention in which God says, Jesus says, "Hear what I have to say." "Listen to me." "This is really important." Today, God breaks forth in Word, putting some things on the line for us about relationship, about community, about the kingdom of heaven. Will we hear it? In his book, The Soul's Code: In search of character and calling, James Hillman reverses the notion that as people get older and mature, they grow up. Rather, Hillman suggests, as we become more aware of who we are and from where we have come, and as we move closer to the truth at the heart of what you've so often heard me refer to as "knowing just who and whose we are," requires more of a process of growing down than anything else. It requires rooting ourselves deeper and deeper into a knowledge of self-discovery and identity, of delving into and understanding our calling, of discerning more fully just who or what's doing the calling. And though Hillman is not concerned with providing answers to some of the big questions like "the reason to live … [or] the meaning of life in general or [even] a philosophy of religious faith," (4, brackets my additions) he does suggest that understanding more and more of how to get-at these answers comes with our growing down, digging in, rooting ourselves more firmly. He says of this process: To be an adult is to be a grown-up. Yet this is merely one way of speaking of maturity, and a heroic one at that. For even tomato plants and the tallest trees send down roots as they rise toward the light. … We grow down, and we need a long life to get on our feet. (41-42) So what does all of this mean for us today--maturing, growing down … especially in light of last week's Gospel in which Jesus gives thanks to God for allowing infants to be the ones who receive his message?! What I think is important for us today is to understand simply--whether old or young--that we are being called--each and every one of us--in this very moment to a fuller realization of the working of God in our lives … in our very midst … and from our deepest, most inner-most realms. God is at work in us, if we but have the ears to heed God's calling. Hearing and heeding God's call speaks to a maturity--a spiritual maturity--that no age can convey. Jesus is telling us that the kingdom of heaven--for us to fully realize it … to provide for it--requires this kind of growing down. The parable of the sower might be better called the parable of the sower and the parable of the soils. It is a parable in two portions, the two parts probably compiled at completely different moments: one in the midst of Jesus' ministry and the other to a fledgling church in need of a word of encouragement and instruction sometime towards the end of the first century in the midst of persecution. Because of this, the parable doesn't quite stand fully on its own. What is difficult (at least for me) is that in the exposition of the parable--a further instruction about its meaning for the disciples--is that part of the beauty of the parable, getting to its core, getting into its mystery, delving into it, has, in part, been taken care of for us. Parables are meant to be grown into. So how do we grow down into this one? The parable of the sower relates to us a promise; and it's a promise that, if we are but willing to hear it and have it, God will tend within us a harvest of great abundance. … If we but respond to the voice of God in our lives, if we but acknowledge the working of Christ in our very midst, if we but humble ourselves to receive and allow the grace of the working of the Spirit through us, if we but covenant with God--promise--to do our part, to share in the work we are being called to do, to truly understand and live out what is meant by the cost of discipleship, to bear witness to the glory of God in our own lives and in our own day, if we … grow down, and root ourselves in the surety of God's unfailing and unwavering steadfastness, we will receive life most abundant. And in that abundance, the fruit we bear will, indeed, be our testimony to the one who is at work in us. It's relational. It is covenant … and not just covenant of the law. It's covenant of the Spirit--and of Christ--the promise of full life, full humanity--fullness in every sense of the word. And this teaching is most important to consider at this moment within Jesus' ministry--as he sits, asking to be heard amongst the crowd at the Sea of Galilee and sandwiched in time between the rush of the Pharisee's call for his death and what will be the confusion and intensity over the impending murder of his cousin John the Baptist. This is a costly teaching moment and a defining moment when for Jesus and his followers things will be different … a moment that requires even for Jesus a maturity that comes through promise--the tending of the Spirit, through test and tempest, pruning, care, maintenance and love. And for us, if we allow for it … if we accept it … we realize that even if the seed of our lives--our hopes and dreams--be squandered or cast to the wind, God's promise to us, if we heed God's calling, is life abundant, even if it be costly … a life tended and nurtured … a life in relationship. I think that this means so much--or it should at least--in a world that is in need of costly witness, especially in a world that has been rocked by too much noise this week … further disquieted, as the voices and peaceful songs for those of our world in true and desperate need and the shouts of celebration and revelry over human sport, have been threatened to be lost in the wails and laments of a city caught off its guard in moments of hatred … and now the noise of unrest, brooding off of our own coastlands … the noise of this and so much else that shakes us ... unless, that is, we can hear it … that voice that grows louder and louder … that voice beckoning for us to hear it … screaming justice for those in greatest need … crying with all who mourn … that voice that says in the midst of the threat of destruction and unknowing and all that is dying around us: "I am here. Hold fast. Don't lose heart." "Listen!" we are told. … Listen and receive the word of God. Surely it is through our listening hearts that the one who appeared as a Gardener at his resurrection reveals himself more fully to us. Surely this Gardener, if we but allow for it, will both tend and mend us and this broken world of ours. Surely in him, we will find life most abundant. Lord, [We] believe [our lives are] touched by you, that you want something for [us], and of [us]. Give [us] ears to hear you, eyes to see the tracing of your finger, and … heart[s], quickened by the motions of your Spirit. --Loder, p. 29 (brackets my adaptation) Amen. -------------------- Hillman, James. The Soul's Code: In search of character and calling. New York: Warner Books, 1996. Loder, Ted. Guerillas of Grace: Prayers for the Battle. San Diego, CA: LuraMedia, 1984.