In Mark’s Gospel, the very first parable Jesus tells . . .

In Mark’s Gospel, the very first parable Jesus tells involves a farmer.  However, it is a curiously careless farmer, who ends up sowing seeds along the path where the birds will quickly gobble them up, and on rocky soil where the scorching sun will wither whatever sprouts, and among the thorns which will surely compete with, and eventually choke out, any potential growth.

In other words, this is a farmer who doesn’t seem to have the slightest idea what he is doing.  Notice that there’s no mention of him plowing the field, or fertilizing it, or even providing irrigation.  Ask any modern farmer their opinion of this particular farmer and you’re liable to get a frown and a disgusted shake of the head.  Modern farmers don’t just scatter seeds willy-nilly; they plan ahead.  They determine in advance how deep to plow, how much to fertilize, and how often to irrigate.  Moreover, they do not plant where there’s not likely to be any growth.  They minimize waste, because minimizing waste means maximizing profit!

So what are we to make of this strange parable where the farmer seems to be doing everything wrong?  Well, for starters, it’s worth keeping in mind that Jesus isn’t giving us a lesson in agriculture.  He isn’t literally speaking about farming.  As he later explains to his disciples, he’s speaking about evangelism—that is, sowing the Good News.

And let’s face it; when it comes to evangelism, a lot of us are more than a little tentative.  For example, you might have a neighbor who just moved in next door, and it crosses your mind that, being new in town, they might be looking for a church.  “I should invite them to come to our church,” you think to yourself.  But then you hesitate, because you’re afraid of offending them, or seeming pushy, or coming off as some religious fanatic.  And so you hold your tongue and avoid the topic altogether.

In short, we worry about planting a seed when we are uncertain about the outcome.  But that’s the amazing thing about the farmer in this parable.  He doesn’t seem to be worried about that at all.  He is just out there sowing seeds with wild abandon, regardless of where they end up—along the path, in shallow soil, among the thorns.  It’s almost as if he is focused only upon the task of sowing seeds, and is content to leave the responsibility of the harvest to someone else.

And maybe that’s the point.  We are not asked to produce results; our calling is to plant seeds—seeds of love, seeds of kindness, seeds of mercy, seeds of grace.  Will they take root and grow?  Maybe yes, maybe no.  But then again, we don’t really need to worry about the harvest—God is in charge of that!