Gospel: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
My love
of gardening has a lot of levels as my fellow gardeners here will relate to,
I’m sure. I love to garden because of
the food—I like to eat fresh, delicious food.
There’s nothing like a tomato warm from the garden. I love to garden because of the quiet
contemplation of watering and weeding.
This is time to pray, for my 5 senses to be engaged, and to get a moment
alone. I garden because of the
friendships (I have made 4 new friends through gardening this year since my
gardens are not at my house but shared in the community) And I love to garden
because of the magic. I start with
nothing, some dirt, a tiny speck of a seed that costs almost nothing. Then some mystery beyond my understanding
takes place that takes that nothing and makes something wonderous. Gardening is a spiritual experience for
me.
I have
recently started to volunteer at the Ferry Street Community garden 2 blocks
from house. It was started 18 months ago
by a woman named Sara who took over a city plot and transformed it. I’ve only been involved with it about a
month. Sara gardens differently than I do.
She accepted whatever plants were donated. She mixes them all up wherever they will fit.
In a year and a half, she has transformed this plot from nothing into
something. There are flowers and trees,
pumpkins, onions, tomatoes, tomatillos, lettuce, chard, spinach, raspberries,
something amazing and delicious called pineapple strawberries. The food there is for anyone and
everyone. I go every other day and pick
raspberries for my oatmeal. Sara had a
c-section on Friday, and I am assigned Mondays to water the garden.
This
community garden is a mess and a joy.
Everything is mixed up together.
When Sara was showing me the garden and pointed out the onions I asked
how to know if they were ready and she just shrugged. People leave half dead starts on the table there. If we have time, we plant them. If not, no big deal. If they live, great! If they don’t make it, no biggie. Sara regularly takes dried seed pods from
plants in the garden and scatters them around.
There is a beautiful hollyhock growing.
It was from seeds she scattered around the garden last year. That’s the one that came up. She has some wheat growing. She’s taken the seeds from that and scattered
them around in the hopes they will come up next year in new places. This garden is pure joy. If I have time to weed I can. If not, no biggie. There is no pressure, only joy! And there is an abundance and an element of
surprise. Every time I go there, I see
something I didn’t see before. Every
time I go there, it is a spiritual experience.
Sometimes
we feel so out of control—like life is a mess and there is nothing we can do to
get ourselves in order. What if we
looked at ourselves more like Sara sees this community garden? Sometimes we get stressed and we get angry
with ourselves for mistakes or fear that we can never do enough or be
enough. What if we let go of what didn’t
grow and just allowed ourselves joy at what did? Sometimes we get angry at others when they
don’t do things the way we prefer. What
if we let go of what we can’t control? I
had a little chuckle at the Spirit of Life Constitution when we were going over
it a few months ago. In the Preamble it
says that as Christians we should maintain decency and order. I love decency and order, because it helps me
keep track of things, it helps me have enough control over a situation to look
competent. However, at the time, I
thought of this parable, and the lack of decency and order. I love this image of the sower making a
mess. Sterling and I have been reading
Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder. They
are meticulous about how they mark the furrows.
They want a good yield because that means success in feeding their
family and growing their business. But
this farmer in the Gospel parable just tosses seed every which way. I need more of this kind of farmer in my
life. I tend to focus too much on what
doesn’t grow, on who’s unhappy, on who left, instead of taking delight in what
does grow and thrive. Sometimes in
church, too, we might tend to throw the seed all the usual places because
that’s worked for us in the past.
This
pandemic is teaching us to throw the seeds around a little bit more. Some of us are making masks for our
neighbors. Some are making hats. Some are connecting with people who don’t
have anybody. Some are making new
friends on walks and building community.
Some are growing gardens and sharing food. My mom sent my son a treasure hunt box with
clues and then interacted over zoom while he completed the puzzle to find the
prize. We’re finding ways to support
local merchants. We’re finding time to
read about racism and take a long look at how we have to change ourselves. Let’s not hold back those seeds that God has
given us. Let’s toss them around freely
and joyfully and see what comes up.
Secondly,
we are dirt. We are literally
earth-creatures. That what the name “Adam”
means, in the Bible, what humans are—“Earth-creature.” God made us, formed us from the dust, from
the earth. So we can also think of
ourselves as soil that God is freely sewing into. Are we receptive to new growth or suspicious
of what is springing up? I know
sometimes I am a pile of thorns.
Sometimes I am dry and rocky soil.
Sometimes I am the path. But
sometimes I get off that beaten path and it is good for me. I have a soft spot here or there. How do I make myself receptive to the love
and grace of God so it can grow within me?
And not only me, but as a church, can we be considered fertile ground
for God’s new growth and life? What
within our church community becomes a barrier for seeds of faith growing among
us? Where are the thorns growing that
hurt people?
Gardening
is constant work. It is never done. There are weeds to pull, soil to amend,
pruning, watering, slugs and pests to remove, manure to spread, cover crops to
plant, and on and on. And every season
calls for different tasks. To grow in
faith and stay strong in faith, we might want to tend our faith, and not in
just one way, but by many avenues—in prayer and generosity, acts of service,
reading God’s word, Bible Study, fasting, singing, evangelism, teaching, and
using the gifts God is giving us. And the best thing about this is that God is
always, again and again, throwing out those seeds of love and grace. If they don’t take root now, maybe next
time. Maybe the time after that. God has an abundance of grace. God is the prodigal sower—the wasteful sower. And God is the joyful farmer, taking delight
in the surprise of flourishing life.
For someone like me, who tends to try
to be a little more orderly, I get to remember that this isn’t my garden. This is God’s garden. God isn’t as interest in good order as I
am. God isn’t interested in the way
we’ve always done it. God is interested
in new life springing up. God is interested in the joy of surprise. God is interested in abundant grace. And I think God is interested more in the
creative process, trying something, even than the end result, the harvest. That we would stretch ourselves and imagine
the world God imagines is important to God.
That we would hold that vision with God of a world where the flowers and
vegetables lie down together, and plants would grow in the cracks in the
sidewalk, and seeds that didn’t sprout last year would find the sun and water
they need, and that God’s creation would experience joy. That is the good news for this morning.
God
likes to garden because God likes a good feast, and even better when there are
folks to share it with. We share
communion this morning, wheat and grapes grown in the earth from seeds,
watered, tended, harvested, crushed, mixed and baked, to feed us with God’s own
body and blood and make us into one people, full of grace and love.
God
likes to garden because God likes to make something out of nothing. God loves to speak a word and watch something
appear that is a delight to the senses, sweet, sour, colorful, delectable,
nourishing. And God likes to make us
co-creators with God, to farm alongside one another, sharing our joys and
hardships
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