Gospel reading: Matthew 13.1-9
That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the lake. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: ‘Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!’
Reflections
I have recently been reading a few books on the subjects of woodland and farming, mostly focusing on the benefits and joys of good practice and healthy ecosystems.
In Part 2 of “English Pastorale”, James Rebanks writes of the changes he has seen on his and other farms in the Lake District. Once, the ploughs were followed by hundreds of birds, knowing that there will be a smörgåsbord of worms and bugs turned up in the soil to feast on. But on modern farms the birds no longer follow the plough, because pesticides, herbicides and fertilisers have poisoned and killed everything in the soil. There are no more worms for them to forage. The soil may as well be a trodden-down path.
Rebanks cites Leviticus on leaving the fallen harvest for those who need it – “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and for the alien” (Leviticus 23.22) – contrasting it with the nothing that is left for the birds by modern harvesters.
Now Jesus would have seen struggles of the farmers around him. How they had to contend with birds and thorns competing for and with the seed they had just sown. I recently re-listened to Drew Lanham’s interview on the On Being podcast, describing how millions of migrating bobolinks would descend upon the rice crops that enslaved people had spent dawn to dusk growing, so that they would then have to stay up through the night as well to prevent them roosting. It is not surprising that he and many other Black people in the US connect birds to bondage. And yet Lanham became an ornithologist, in love with birds and ‘lyrical in the[ir] languages.’
So to my mind, there are times when it is actually good that the birds of Jesus’ parable do get something to eat.
Thorns can also be good, protecting the young shoots of tree seedlings from being grazed by deer or sheep. Hinewai Reserve in New Zealand works with gorse, letting it grow even though it is an introduced and invasive species. The gorse protects shade-tolerant native seedlings, which eventually grow through and start to shade the gorse in turn. And because gorse needs the sun, it just dies. Guy Shrubsole writes in “The Lost Rainforests of Britain” too of the benefits of thorny plants, protecting tender tree shoots from browsing deer and sheep.
Speaking of sheep, they and the goats can be kept on the rocky ground. That too has its uses.
But, yes, the good, rich soil is best – the product of traditional methods of farming working with it and the web of natural relationships.
The good soil speaks to me of the riches available in the old ways of prayer: the wisdom contained in ancient practices of Lectio, reciting the Psalms, and contemplative prayer; the wisdom of the mystics’ teaching that I am slowly learning.
I know that I am fed too by modern theology and research into the Scriptures. Rebanks recognises that we need modern efficiencies alongside the rediscovery of traditional farming techniques in order to feed the world. I need a balance of modern and ancient practices to feed my mind, heart and soul. So I give thanks for the deep wisdom of ancient paths and the deep understanding of modern research and writing. I pray that they may form a fruitful ecosystem in my life, the church and the world.
-oOo-
Since April 2020, I have been jointly hosting a shared Lectio Divina group on Tuesday or Wednesday evenings. These are my reflections only, during the prayer session and as I wrote them up. Please see my separate commentary and leaflet for more information about shared Lectio.
