‘As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience.’
Simple enough, the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of God have been given to us. Jesus tells us in this very gospel reading today. The word of God is like seed, that stuff, without which there is no life on earth. Those little bits of magic and mystery that go into the ground, die, and become something life-giving.
When I was first digesting this parable, I thought that it leaned into the deterministic side of our faith. We are passive, like the ground, and, whether we are the ones along the path, the ones on the rock, the ones among the thorns, or the good soil, is up to God’s providence. There’s a sense of passivity in the account of the first three kinds of soil. Those along the path have the word stolen from them, those among the rocks fall away because of testing, and those among the thorns are chocked by the cares, riches, and pleasures of life. All are, in some way, victims of outside forces. But the fourth and final soil type, the good soil, completely changes the reading of the passage.
‘As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience.’
The good soil is those who hold fast to the word of God. This is the opposite of a passive victim, and if we compare those who hold fast to those on the path, we discover an obvious contrast. Those along the path are those for whom the word of God is just sitting there, on the outside of them, exposed to the world. There is no holding at all, no internalizing, no taking in.
How often does this happen? We experience God’s word in some form, maybe it’s reading Scripture and learning something new and relevant to our lives. Maybe it’s experiencing creation, maybe it’s a connection with another person. Then we turn around and it’s gone. We’re right back where we were. Right back at doubt, fear, anxiety, lust, anger, confusion. The words are gone, the beauty is gone, the connection is gone. It feels like someone has come and snatched it from under our noses. As if we had an enemy who never sleeps, an enemy who prowls around, waiting for an opportunity to steal God’s word from us.
We find a similar contrast when we compare those who hold fast to those on the rock. Those on the rock can hardly be said to be holding the word of God because they have no depth for it to take root. Maybe they’ve taken the word of God into themselves, they’ve ‘received it with Joy,’ as Jesus says, but there are no roots because there is no depth of soil. We’ve probably all experienced this too. Times of real joy in the word of God, ‘mountain top’ experiences, as we sometimes call them. We find joy in Scripture, we find joy in the sacrament, we find joy in the family of God, and in God’s beautiful world. We experience freedom from our sins or healing from our infirmities. We taste the confidence of eternal truth and the assurance of salvation; but, we don’t hold fast, we don’t take it down deep into our innermost being. Then, when the wilderness comes, when the fast is forced upon us, when night falls, when we descend the mountain and lose sight of our destination, we lose heart, because we are mere flesh, with no soul for God’s word to take root in.
If we compare those among the thorns to those who hold fast, we get, yet another contrast. The ones who are choked by thorns receive the word of God and take it into their soul so that it does take root and grow. The word is too deep to be stolen, it even withstands testing. But there are other things that have taken root in this soil: cares, riches, and pleasures can also take root in our souls, alongside the word of God. Everyone knows the cares that feel ineradicable: How will I provide for my family? How will I find a spouse? Am I smart enough, athletic enough, good enough? Will I ever be happy? will I ever feel secure? Will I ever really know myself?
Even when you think you have removed certain cares, they can lie dormant for years. Those cares that you thought were dead can start sprouting again in difficult seasons, and they choke the life out of God’s word. When the anxieties of this world take hold of your life, you become blind to beauty, deft to the truth, and numb to goodness. Cares fill your heart, your mind, and your gut, where the word of God once lived, and the fruit of your spirit begins to wither. Soon, there’s no space left for love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. It’s only: ‘What shall we eat? What shall we drink? what shall we wear? Where will I work? Will there be enough?
The riches and pleasures of life can choke the word of God in us just as easily. We all have personal experience with this, and we’ve all seen it in those we know and love. We’ve all watched friends and family grow up and slowly lose their faith as they fill their lives with the pleasures and the riches of this world instead. A taste of success, a new hobby, or a new relationship, and a few years down the road they’re not the same person you used to know. Have you ever reconnected with someone who used to be a passionate and devout Christian, and the only thing they can talk about anymore is the stuff they own, the places they’ve traveled, their job, or their newest relationship? Do you ever catch yourself doing it?
The devil, the flesh, and the world are set against each one of us, and against the Church; but, ‘as for the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience.’ Good soil, soil that takes the word of God into itself, soil that has the depth needed for roots to grow in, soil that is clear of grasping, chocking thorns, soil that yields a significant harvest, is an honest and good heart, holding fast to the word of God.
That is the secret of the kingdom of God, according to our Lord, Jesus Christ. That is how we combat the world, the flesh, and the devil. We take the word into ourselves, into the sanctum sanctorum, the holy of holies. This means engaging Holy Scripture regularly, praying regularly, participating in the sacraments regularly, and sharing in the life of God’s family, the Church. If we don’t want the word of God to be stolen, to wither away in times of trial, or to be choked by the cares, the riches, and the pleasures of this life, it has to be able to penetrate our hearts our minds, and our souls, which means regular encounters with it. Encountered in word and sacrament, prayer and labor, but also in beauty, which is also the work of God’s word. We need regular encounters with the beauty of God’s creation and the beauty of man’s co-creation. We need to read, hear, see, taste, and feel the beauty of God’s word regularly in our lives, so that it can take root in our souls, and we need to regularly enact goodness, to serve, to help, to show hospitality, to offer mercy, to receive and offer forgiveness.
We need to have deep souls in which the word of God can take root and honest and good hearts within which it can survive times of testing. Jesus promises us that an honest and good heart, holding fast to God’s word, can survive insult and exhaustion, it can survive hardship and betrayal, it can survive high school and college, it can survive a secular and a religious calling. That’s why we gather as the Church, to keep a fast hold on God’s word as we encounter it in Scripture, in sacrament, in music, and in communion with God and one another. It’s why we pray alone and with our families, it’s why we read our Bibles, and why we read good books. We let the good, the true, and the beautiful sink deep down into our souls, and we hold fast to it, trusting our Lord, that the word of God will bear fruit in us.
