Imagine a farmer who goes out to sow his seed.
He has good seed.
The very best.
But when harvest time comes, much of it has disappeared.
Some never even begins to grow.
Some springs up quickly, only to die.
Some is choked before it bears fruit.
Only some reaches its full potential.
Now ask yourself this question.
Where is the problem?
Is it the seed?
No.
The seed is perfect.
Is it the farmer?
No.
The farmer is generous.
The problem is the soil.
That is the heart of today’s Gospel.
Jesus tells us that the seed is the word of God.
The seed is not weak.
The Gospel is not lacking.
The Church has not lost the truth.
The problem is never God’s word.
The question is:
What sort of soil am I?
Because every single one of us is one of the four soils.
The first soil is the path.
The seed never gets in.
Jesus says the evil one snatches it away.
There are people who hear the Gospel every Sunday.
They hear it.
But they never really listen.
It never reaches the heart.
Perhaps they are thinking about lunch.
The football.
Work tomorrow.
Their shopping.
Their phone.
The word is heard…
but never received.
How tragic it would be to spend a lifetime hearing God’s word but never allowing it to change us.
Then there is the rocky ground.
The seed grows quickly.
Everything looks wonderful.
There is excitement.
Enthusiasm.
Emotion.
But there are no roots.
The first difficulty comes.
The first criticism.
The first sacrifice.
The first disappointment.
And faith disappears.
Jesus is teaching us something important.
Feelings are not enough.
Christianity is more than emotion.
There are Sundays when we feel inspired.
There are Sundays when we feel nothing.
We come anyway.
Why?
Because we are not faithful to our feelings.
We are faithful to Christ.
That is why the Church has always taught that faith is not merely an emotion but a supernatural virtue, strengthened by prayer, nourished by the sacraments, and sustained by grace.
Then comes the third soil.
Perhaps this is the most dangerous of all.
Because the seed really does begin to grow.
Jesus says:
“The cares of the world and the delight in riches choke the word.”
Notice that Jesus does not say great crimes destroy the plant.
He speaks about worries.
Distractions.
Possessions.
Busyness.
The plant dies, not because it is attacked, but because something else slowly occupies the space where God should be.
That may be one of the greatest dangers facing Christians today.
Not persecution.
Distraction.
We are constantly entertained.
Constantly connected.
Constantly busy.
We have never had so much information.
Yet we often have so little silence.
If we are honest, many of us spend far more time looking at a screen than looking towards God.
The seed cannot grow if we never give it room.
Then, finally, Jesus speaks about the good soil.
Notice what He does not say.
He does not say the good soil is perfect.
He simply says it receives the word.
It understands it.
It allows it to bear fruit.
Thirty-fold.
Sixty-fold.
A hundred-fold.
The saints were not saints because they heard a different Gospel.
They heard the same Gospel we hear today.
The difference was that they allowed it to take root.
The first reading helps us understand why.
The Lord says through Isaiah:
“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven… so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty.”
God’s word is never wasted.
Every Mass.
Every Scripture reading.
Every homily.
Every Rosary.
Every moment of prayer.
God is planting seed.
Sometimes we see immediate growth.
Sometimes we do not.
But God never stops sowing.
The question is not whether God is speaking.
The question is whether we are listening.
Then St Paul lifts our eyes even higher.
He tells us that “the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth.”
That is a remarkable image.
He does not compare the world to someone dying.
He compares it to someone giving birth.
Labour is painful.
Very painful.
But the pain has meaning.
It leads to new life.
Paul reminds us that this broken world is not the end of the story.
One day Christ will make all things new.
One day suffering will end.
One day creation itself will be renewed.
That hope gives us strength to persevere.
But notice something.
The harvest does not happen automatically.
The farmer sows.
The seed grows.
The harvest comes.
There is a process.
The Christian life is exactly the same.
God gives us His grace freely.
But He never forces it upon us.
He invites.
He calls.
He sows.
We must respond.
That is why the Church speaks about cooperation with grace.
God does not save us without us.
He calls us into a relationship.
He asks us to pray.
To worship.
To repent.
To receive the sacraments.
To allow His grace to transform us from within.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy is not that people reject the Gospel.
It is that so many never allow it to penetrate beyond the surface.
They remain lifelong spiritual infants.
Content with occasional religion.
Satisfied with a faith that never grows.
Yet God did not create us merely to survive.
He created us to become saints.
To bear fruit.
Thirty-fold.
Sixty-fold.
A hundred-fold.
Every Sunday Christ the Divine Sower comes among us again.
He scatters the same seed.
His word.
His grace.
His very Body and Blood.
The question is no longer about the seed.
It is no longer about the Sower.
The only question that remains is this:
What sort of soil will He find in me today?
Will my heart be hard?
Will it be shallow?
Will it be crowded by the worries and distractions of this world?
Or will I open it completely to Him?
Because the difference between a saint and everyone else is not that the saint received a different seed.
The difference is that the saint allowed the seed to grow.
So today let us ask the Lord for one grace above all others:
Not simply that we may hear His word.
But that we may receive it.
Live it.
Persevere in it.
And one day bear the abundant harvest for which He created us.
St. Mary's, St. John Bosco and St. Edward's 