In our everyday lives…

when we’re trying to explain something that’s abstract…

something that’s slightly contentious…

or something that’s not easy to understand…

we often make use of stories by way of illustration or as metaphors.

Indeed, we humans often tell stories drawn from our own experience—

stories drawn from everyday life—

in order to make a deeper point.

In essence, that’s what a parable is.

Or, at least, that’s what a parable is meant to be.

Strictly speaking, a parable is not an allegory.

It’s not a story where everything is symbolic or where everything represents something else.

It’s a simple story that’s meant to make a simple, but profound point.

 

Take our reading this morning:

the “Parable of the Sower”.

It’s a story of a humble peasant scattering seed in his field—

a field that may have been only about three acres in total…

from which he would try to grow enough to feed his family;

in an arid climate…

without any sophisticated irrigation or fertilisation…

where the land was crudely ploughed—

most likely with a primitive implement that he pulled himself—

and where the seed was sown by hand because there wasn’t any machinery to do it…

and where scattering the seed was the only feasible option…

because he didn’t have the luxury of sowing each seed individually.

Certainly, that meant that there was considerable wastage.

But, in reality, he had to get it in… 

quickly…

when the conditions were right.

Back then, agriculture was crude and highly inefficient… 

with lots of wastage and lots of hazards—

wild birds…

poor soil…

contamination…

and unpredictable rainfall.

But a peasant farmer would have to take risks because there was no other way—

not if he wanted to feed his family…

not if he wanted to survive.

And the miracle was that some of the scattered seed actually did fall in good soil…

sprouted…

took root…

received sufficient rain and sunlight…

grew…

and yielded enough—

enough to live on…

enough to put some aside as seed for the following year…

and, occasionally, enough to buy a new pair of sandals…

or replace the tunic that was so threadbare that it was almost see-through.

It’s a simple story—

one drawn from the everyday experience of ordinary peasants…

taking calculated risks…

facing any number of setbacks, hazards, and adverse conditions.

But, despite all that…

they managed to survive…

often from just a small number of seeds.

 

And yet, at that point, the intended point of this parable starts to get a little fuzzy.

What does this actually mean for the author’s audience?

What does this say to them—

and to us—

about the life of faith?

 

Leaving aside the allegorical interpretation that the author adds—

we’ll come back to that later—

we haven’t been given any framing for this parable.

It’s not introduced by a comment such as “The Kingdom of Heaven is like…”—

such that we find elsewhere.

So, what is the point of comparison here? 

 

It all depends on what you take as the focal point.

Is the focus of the story on the peasant farmer sowing;

or is it on the seed;

or is it on the soil?

 

If the focus is on the farmer… 

then the point seems to be about the varied outcomes that the act of sowing produces;

metaphorically, the parable becomes an exhortation to us to take risks…

with a reassurance that… 

if we act with faith and faithfulness our labours will be fruitful in the end.

But unless we try…

unless we take the risks…

unless we scatter the seed— 

in trust and in hope—

there won’t be, and there can’t be, any harvest.

In this sense, it becomes an exhortation to persistence;

an encouragement to keep going…

to keep trying…

to keep trusting and hoping…

to keep reaching out with God’s welcoming, embracing love…

to keep trying to make a difference in people’s lives and in the world…

knowing that God’s purposes will succeed in the end.

 

But if the focus is on the seed…

then the point would seem to be that a bountiful harvest results even from a process that’s rife with contingencies and vagaries;

in a sense, God’s kingdom grows—

the harvest will be plentiful—

and nothing can stop that;

big things can come from small and inconsequential beginnings.

In this case, it’s making a similar point to the Parable of the Mustard Seed.

 

But if the focus is on the soil, then it’s making a very different point.

It would seem to be commenting on our receptivity to the Gospel.

It becomes, in essence, a moral exhortation—

challenging us to consider what sort of soil we comprise…

and how deeply…

how permanently…

how fruitfully…

will the message of Christ take root and grow in us.

 

And then we have the author’s own interpretation of the parable…

which we find in the second half of our reading…

and which I have conveniently ignored so far.

For a start, it turns the parable into an allegory—

which it was never intended to be.

The author makes the focus the seeds and the soil.

But note…

the “interpretation” that he offers doesn’t work.

As it begins, the seeds seem to represent the message of Christ…

and we, the hearers, seem to represent the different soil types.

At least… 

that’s the case for the seeds that fall on the path and are eaten by the birds;

and it’s also the case for the seeds that fall on thorny ground…

and the seeds that fall into good soil.

But it doesn’t work with the seeds falling on the rocky ground.

There, we, the hearers, seem to represent the young seedlings without strong roots…

not the soil.

In his interpretation, then, he gets muddled up.

 

And that also happens in the way that this parable is interpreted in the other Gospels—

in Mark, and in Luke.

This tends to suggest that none of them… 

in fact…

really understand what it’s supposed to mean.

Of course, trying to understand a parable as an allegory will do that—

the more that we try to make everything represent something else…

the more that we end up stretching the meanings and mixing the metaphors.

 

But what this reading also shows us… 

is that while parables are relatively simple, everyday stories…

that are meant to have a simple but profound meaning—

in reality, parables are multivalent.

They can say quite different things—

depending on your frame of reference and perspective;

depending on the assumptions that you make;

and depending on the beliefs and expectations that you bring to them.

 

Ironically…

then…

the Parable of the Sower is, itself, a parable— 

reminding us that…

at the heart of religious faith is metaphor and mystery;

that often there are no right and wrong answers—

perhaps only ones that make better or worse sense of most of the details…

but which can seldom account for all of them;

and we ought to be very careful, then, in how we use them in the life of the church…

and in our own spiritual lives.

And, sometimes, we might need to stop…

and look at it from a different focal point;

and then we might realise that we’ve been looking at it all wrong.