Homily - 15OT-A

   Last week in the Gospel, we heard a most comforting line, perhaps the most comforting message of the entire Gospel: “Come to me all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”   Our second reading today—an amazing passage from St. Paul—speaks from the perspective of one who knew what suffering was all about, and what the comfort of God’s word could provide.  Paul, as you know, traveled all over known world proclaiming the Gospel and spreading the seed of God 's word.  Sometimes he was graciously accepted in the communities he visited, and sometimes he just barely got out there with life.  There was no hardship he did not know-- shipwreck, hunger and cold, persecution, doubt and heckling, and ultimately even the executioners sword.  It was the comfort of the Lord’s yoke which was easy and the burden which is light that sustained Paul in his journeys, planting the Word of God across the Mediterranean.

   So Paul writes to the Romans, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing impaired to the glory to be revealed for us.”  We Christians have a long history of enduring our sufferings with the idea that someday—someday—things will all turn out ok for us in the end--that it will all meet a great divine equalizing force in the final wash.  This is one way that we understand Jesus’ call to who are weary, that they may find rest in his heart and in his gaze.  But even as we look to the world to come and its perfect justice, Paul seems to tell us that the sufferings we endure today have value.  The Christian journey is not simply a “get out of jail free” card when it comes to suffering and loss and scarcity and insecurity—those who follow Christ most faithfully are, in fact, beset with trials and tribulation, culminating in the invitation to “take up your cross and follow me”!

   But look at what Paul says: “for creation itself was subject to futility…” our creation, of our world we live in, is completely futile…. there is there is no getting out of it alive.  The winner is not the one with the most toys.  There is no promise that we will always have food on our tables or wonderful life-long health.  We can’t be sure that even with our best efforts our children will be straight-A students, or happy, or remain Catholic, or be guaranteed a long life.  Our brand new car out in the lot might have a ding on it after Church, and there might not be enough sweet-potato fries at the restaurant after Mass this morning.  This world is subject to all sorts of shortages, injustices, little-deaths, and, as Paul says it, “futility”.   We do not suffer of it on its own accord… nature is not inherently bad… but it is futile, it is lacking in the fullness of the glory of God.  And so, here’s Paul’s point: “creation itself was subject to futility”, but “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared to the glory to be revealed in us”!  To simplify Paul’s thought even further, we might say that realizing the limits of this world… our sufferings, our losses, our shortages, have a way of pointing us to the reality of our eternal destiny which lies in God.

  God’s hope in creating this world beset by shortages and injustices… where bad things happen to good people… was not to torment us, but to “set [us] free from slavery to corruption, and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God”.  You see, when we become dependent and sufficient in the things of this world, we become slaves to them, don’t we?  We find comfort in the presence of worldly pleasure, and suffer pain in their loss.  Satisfaction, contentment, goodness, and ambition lies clearly within our sight, limiting us to only what we can see and what we can grasp.  But we are not self-made people.  We are not even self-sufficient.  In the deepest part of our being, we depend on a God who lies outside of ourselves and draws each of us, through years of growth in wisdom and knowledge and virtue into the perfection of his own life.  I stand here today as one who still needs to ‘grow up’ in God’s grace and mercy, for he is not done with me yet.  I honor that growth and that struggle that continues in each of us, as we come to know ever-more dearly the grace of God’s continuing creation… an on-going act of his love that brings each of us into a greater share in divine life.  As long as we draw breath, we are being molded (sometimes by trial and tribulation) into signs of his grace and glory, and as a harvest of sixty or a hundredfold to his investment in us.  What we shall become remains yet be seen in its fullness, and so we cast our gaze not on this world, but on the promise ahead.  For in that promise, ‘eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it dawned in the mind of man what God has ready for those who love them’! 

   Take what Paul teaches this morning, now, and bring it into the Gospel we just heard proclaimed.  Jesus offers a parable about the harvest gained after a farmer scatters seed.  At the end of the longer form of this Gospel (which we did not read today), we hear Jesus explain that the seed on the good land is the heart which is open to the Word of God and follows it—yielding an astounding harvest to the glory of the master.  The seed placed upon less hospitable ground did less well as it was swallowed up by its surroundings and failed to yield.  Traditionally, we interpret this Gospel as a call to us to be the ‘good ground’… to be open to the fruitfulness of the Word of God scattered about generously—even wrecklessly!  And this is an easy and comforting interpretation for us preachers… if our words about the scripture are being spread about, we cannot be paralyzed by the realization that maybe only half of our crowds at Mass are hearing and acting on what has been said… we continue to preach anyway.  And it’s not just preachers, but parents and teachers and so many more who communicate the truths of the world with us, only to realize that so often our words fall on deaf ears.  But let me turn this Gospel on its ear a bit…what if we are not the land receiving the seed, but what if we are the seed instead--created and blessed and fruitful in God’s grace, being spread to all corners of the earth and into every situation of human life?  Some of us are spread on fruitful ground and into fruitful situations and are successful beyond anyone’s wildest dreams… but some have heart-aching challenges and experience devastating setbacks.  Some are struck down in the prime of life, and others lack the basic nutrients and encouragement to put down deep roots and succeed.  Can there be hope in this Gospel, if we look at it in that light?

   God is the master of the harvest, and wherever he plants, he will expect and receive a return.  I would suppose that there isn’t a seed that is spread from his hand that he does not care for greatly, as plentiful as the seed is and as random as it seems to be scattered.  But what happens to seed scattered on rocky ground?  What happens to seed spread on inhospitable land?  There is always some that will survive and grow, and in doing so, change the land, change the environment, and give hope to future plantings in the same place.  Perhaps there will be individual cases of success, even in the most unlikely of environments.  In our Christian tradition, we might ask if these might be the martyrs… those who gave everything they had—and life itself—to the glory of God.  Their seed spread in places of injustice and persecution, their job was not to yield fruit to the harvest, but to help ‘break new ground’ for those who would come after.  Tertullian is famously quoted that, “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church”.  Those who fall to the ground and die like a single grain of wheat, trusting completely in the master of the harvest to redeem that act of self-sacrifice, will yield a great return to the harvest-master… no matter what!  As our vision of eternal glory is not circumscribed by the limits of this world, so too the results of the harvest are not simply a matter of counting that which is seen, that which can be sold at a price, and that which builds up supply and contentment for this world’s glory.  Fruitlessness as this world foresees it is a reminder that there is another measure, another reality to be looking for.  In the Kingdom, that which is scattered cannot return to the harvest-master void, but will instead achieve the end—a divine end—for which God sent it.

   We have an invitation set before us today which is urging us on to greater growth in God’s grace, even as worldly futility threatens our hope and confidence.  From this altar, and in union with the Church throughout the world, we receive a taste of God’s life and fruitfulness—and then from this place in moments we will be scattered into the great expanses of the world… into homes and workplaces, onto the highways and skyways, into places of service and suffering, places of need and even places of temptation.  As individual grains of seed, we bear the image of Christ and his Word, that our master may return for a harvest wherever it lands... and while there is rejoicing in a return of forty, sixty, or even a hundred-fold, God's glory is also served who allow themselves to be scattered and yield a harvest of self-sacrifice and faithfulness which might not be measured righteously by this futile world.  Our Eucharist is a foretaste and promise of something great—that each seed, wherever it may be sown, bears the covenant of God’s enduring love and fruitfulness which transcends suffering and death unto the glory that will yet be revealed in us.