Brief synopsis of the readings: From Isaiah we read how God promises that rain and snow come down from the heavens and don’t return until they water the earth, making the earth fertile “giving seed to the one who sows.” In the same way God’s word will not return empty “but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.” Today’s Gospel from Matthew has a long form and a short form and I’ll be using the short form. Here Jesus gathered a crowd and told them a parable about a sower (farmer). Some of the seeds he scattered fell on the path and were eaten by birds while others landed on rocky ground and germinated but could not grow because the soil wasn’t deep enough. Others fell among weeds and were choked off by the weeds. But the seeds that fell on rich soil produced fruit “a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

So are we the sower or the seeds in these readings? The sower doesn’t seem to be very good because a good sower would know not to waste seeds on paths, or rocky ground or among weeds. But if we are seeds that doesn’t seem fair as they have no control over where they land and can only work with what they are given. It’s not their fault when they fall victim to birds or rocks or weeds.

But somehow it all works. We’ve been cultivating crops for about 12,000 years and we’ve gotten progressively better at learning which seeds to sow, which soil produces the best results, how to irrigate, etc. Interestingly enough, seeds haven’t really changed all that much but the skills of the sowers have. Today we’re better than ever at producing enough to feed ourselves.

We’re also better at feeding each other but that’s perhaps the message of these readings. We’re good but we need to keep getting better. As I said the sower in the Gospel wasn’t very good if he just threw seeds everywhere and hoped for the best. He didn’t care well for the seeds or the people who depend on the crops for food.

In our first reading God states explicitly that his “word shall not return to me void, but shall do my will” and that should be a model for how we are to scatter seed. If we are the sowers in the Gospel parable (and I think we are) we need to be single minded in how we scatter.

And as I’ve often said in these homilies, God has gifted us with the call and ability to do his will. In our actions, in our relationships we are sowing seeds all the time. Sowing seeds on paths or rocks or weeds speaks to a carelessness in what we do. We hear a great deal these days about mindfulness and singleness of purpose and while these can feel like well worn cliches, there is truth there. The 19 Century transcendentalist philosopher Henry David Thoreau talked about living in solitude at Walden Pond so as to live “deliberately.”

Most of us can’t live in solitude and frankly I think even fewer are called to it but Thoreau speaks to a recognition that as life becomes more complex and complicated it can be harder and harder to recognize our role in what we do. We’re surrounded by technology that promises to make our lives easier and we’re confronted with countless “opportunities” to set up yet another username and password. It’s worth noting that Thoreau wrote during the beginnings of the industrial revolution.

Every decision we make, every encounter we have, can make a difference. This can feel overwhelming but it can also give us a chance to rethink what we’re doing. When we’re in traffic and someone cuts us off is it because he’s a jerk (or worse) or did he just find out his child is in the emergency room? Is the person at the help desk “useless” or is she struggling to do a difficult job while learning a new language? Is our uneducated coworker in that place out of laziness or because of the need to care for an elderly family member?

We live in a fast paced world that seems to be getting faster all the time. The screaming headline today is barely remembered next week and the vilification of people we don’t know gets easier because of the ease of making snap judgements on single actions. But sowing seeds on fertile soil and passing over paths, rocks and weeds allows us to notice the fertile ground with new eyes. And if we’re honest when can think of times when someone reached out to us in kindness and the difference that made to us.

Because when we do sow seed on fertile ground it doesn’t stop there. It multiplies. I was recently given the gift of presiding at the celebration of life for my cousin Mike. He was a good man and spent most of his career as a police officer in small towns near where he lived. Most of the stories told at his celebration weren’t headline heroics; no tales of saving babies from burning orphanages. They were stories of him mentoring new officers, showing them the best places to get a cup of coffee during an overnight shift. Or having a frank but loving conversation with someone who just made a bad choice that could define him if he doesn’t change.

He’d be puzzled to learn that he was mentioned in a sermon but that’s the point. He didn’t do these things for glory and recognition: he did what he did only because it was the right thing to do. And he didn’t affect just individuals. The new police officers he taught go on to teach other new officers and show them where to get a good cup of coffee, and learn the names and stories of the overnight baristas. The people who he spoke with not only had the opportunity to change their directions but to teach the next generation. And so on. And so on. A hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.

And all of us get to learn that there is much more fertile ground than we thought.