NOTES for Mat 13:1-23

Thanks to the evangelists, we have access not only to the parable of the sower itself, but also to its interpretation, which the disciples heard directly from Jesus. But every parable He spoke is so many-sided that all its depths cannot be exhausted by a single interpretation, even the wisest one. We grasp the meaning of what the Lord said layer by layer. Therefore it is not a stretch to read this parable not only as a story about how different people receive the Word of God, responding differently to preaching, but also as an account of different states of the soul in one and the same person. Each of us, throughout life, has responded very differently to what we have heard. Many of those who today, like good soil, receive and carry the seed of the good News were once rocky ground. And conversely, many of those who today are overgrown with thorns can be cleared of them.

And sometimes even good soil unexpectedly turns stony or becomes wildly overgrown with weeds, so we should not relax by prematurely taking stock of the successes of our spiritual life...

The disciples ask Christ a completely natural question: why does He speak in parables? Indeed, if parables are so difficult for people to understand, why not give them instruction directly? In answer to this, Christ cites the words of Isaiah, who foretold that the hearts of those who heard would become so dull that what they heard would pass by their ears. But then why say anything at all before such people? Is Christ casting words to the wind?

No, He does nothing in vain. Apparently this is precisely why Christ addresses people through parables: so that the seed hidden in figurative speech may still fall into their souls and begin to sprout, even if below the surface. Yes, the consciousness of a considerable part of the listeners is still closed, but their souls in their depths are far more receptive than superficial reason. And if what they hear finds even a small response in the soul, it will begin spiritual growth, that is, the increase of what the Lord had given such people. Those who are confident in the sufficiency of their "spiritual level" and have no intention of increasing it will lose it simply because spiritual life excludes complacency and self-satisfaction.

Why does the Lord speak to us in parables? After all, He could simply tell each person what is required of them to enter the Kingdom of God, say it plainly, and then at the Judgment ask how we carried out His assignment. But will we be able to hear, will we be able to understand His call? We read condescendingly about the Jews who "seeing, do not see" and "hearing, do not understand," but are we ready to hear the Word addressed to us and carry it out without delay or doubt?

And so, in His mercy, the Lord paints for us (and for the listeners around Him) a scene from everyday life: a sower sows seed. This picture will let us take from the Savior's words exactly as much as we are able to understand and accept. Therefore, the more we grow, the more "words about the Kingdom" we are able to put into practice, the more will be revealed to us through these parables. But if we do not want to understand and put into practice what we have already grown into, we face spiritual regression, stagnation of the spirit: whoever has will be given more, and whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken away from him.

The people surrounding Jesus must have listened with bewilderment to this story about a farmer who did not spare seed for roads, weeds, and rocks. After all, a normal farmer sows where he hopes to get a harvest. And this moment of bewilderment and surprise was meant to lead them to a strange thought: a harvest is expected from every seed, wherever it falls. God addresses everyone, not the chosen, not the most capable and perceptive, not the worthy, but everyone. And then He gives a person an amazing ability: to choose for himself who he will turn out to be in relation to the Word, where it will be found, on pavement, among burdocks, or somewhere else. And He does not spare effort or words, because the riskiest sowing can turn out to be the most fruitful, if only a person sees in God's actions a hope for success.

The parable of the sower is undoubtedly a parable about the Kingdom and about people who enter the Kingdom or try to enter it. It is also about witness and witnesses. Only the sowing takes place rather strangely: some falls by the road, some on dry ground, as if the sower works without looking where the seed flies. Yes, at first glance this is strange; but if one thinks about it, it cannot be otherwise. Indeed, does a witness always choose to whom he bears witness? Of course, a true witness is led by God, who indicates to him where, when, to whom, and what to say. But witness often sounds quite broadly: very different people gather to listen to the witness, and no one can be denied the right to hear it. In such a situation some seeds will inevitably fall into soil that is not best suited for them.

Yet the matter is not only, it seems, in the features of witness. The matter is above all in the very nature of the Kingdom, in how it enters our world, transforming it. The breath of the Kingdom touches very different people, and the response to this touch can be extremely varied, from complete ignoring to full acceptance. Some, of course, simply do not notice the breath of the Kingdom, but even those who notice it are not necessarily glad of it. For in a certain sense it is not selective: it often touches many at once, as happened, for example, on the day of Pentecost, when all those gathered in the room sensed it, and then all who were on the street before the house and heard the apostles' preaching. Not everyone who heard the preaching and sensed the breath of the Kingdom then turned, although, judging by the witness of the Book of Acts, there were many such people.

And if the breath of the Kingdom so often touches those who do not expect it, simply because the Kingdom enters our transforming but not yet transformed world, how else is a witness to act? He can only sow the seeds of the Kingdom, as the sower in the Savior's parable sows them. For when the time of harvest comes, the field itself will also be transformed, so that no seeds will be lost.

While concluding the Parable of the Sower, the Lord says: «Who has ears to hear, let him hear!» These Christ’s words immediately remind us the 6th chapter of Isaiah, where the Lord calling Isaiah to preach says with bitterness: «Render the hearts of this people insensitive, their ears dull, and their eyes dim, otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts, and return and be healed» (Isaiah 6:10). Referring to this place from Isaiah the Lord says that right now when He talks to us this critical moment has come and it should be heard or not.

The fact is that we justify ourselves when telling that we don’t hear God's will, we don’t feel and see His presence and action. That is how our psychology is – it is a usual sinner’s reaction. It’s about this that the prophet Isaiah wrote. But if we listen carefully to the Parable of the Sower it’ll be evident that the harvest depends on nothing, as on the soil. And the sower in the Parable isn’t guilty; on the contrary he could have not sowed where nothing will grow in the first place. However, the Lord sows His word, giving us the opportunity to accept it or not.

When parents or teachers pester their children, the latter often listen obediently and wait not estimating that the educator’s grief will stop and give them an opportunity to do or say something. They {children} are used to, that we {adults} are like that. But God’s pedagogy is different: after the Gospel, after Christ’s death and resurrection, we have nothing to say because the fulfillment of the Lord’s body is really revealed in the Christ. The matter now is not in discussions and interpretations but in our response: «Who has ears to hear, let him hear».

While concluding the Parable of the Sower, the Lord says: «Who has ears to hear, let him hear!» These Christ’s words immediately remind us the 6th chapter of Isaiah, where the Lord calling Isaiah to preach says with bitterness: «Render the hearts of this people insensitive, their ears dull, and their eyes dim, otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts, and return and be healed» (Isaiah 6:10). Referring to this place from Isaiah the Lord says that right now when He talks to us this critical moment has come and it should be heard or not.

The fact is that we justify ourselves when telling that we don’t hear God's will, we don’t feel and see His presence and action. That is how our psychology is – it is a usual sinner’s reaction. It’s about this that the prophet Isaiah wrote. But if we listen carefully to the Parable of the Sower it’ll be evident that the harvest depends on nothing, as on the soil. And the sower in the Parable isn’t guilty; on the contrary he could have not sowed where nothing will grow in the first place. However, the Lord sows His word, giving us the opportunity to accept it or not.

When parents or teachers pester their children, the latter often listen obediently and wait not estimating that the educator’s grief will stop and give them an opportunity to do or say something. They {children} are used to, that we {adults} are like that. But God’s pedagogy is different: after the Gospel, after Christ’s death and resurrection, we have nothing to say because the fulfillment of the Lord’s body is really revealed in the Christ. The matter now is not in discussions and interpretations but in our response: «Who has ears to hear, let him hear».

What is a parable? Why does Jesus use parables when speaking to the people? Why are the disciples given knowledge of the mysteries of the Kingdom, with Jesus explaining the meaning of His parables to them, while He seemingly leaves the others in ignorance? To answer all these questions, it is important to understand what parables were used for in antiquity—and in the East during the Middle Ages and later, right up to the present day.

It might seem simplest to explain everything directly; then no one would have any misunderstandings. In fact, however, such a head-on approach is only partly useful, and not merely because it discourages people from thinking by offering them ready-made answers. Another problem is that with this kind of teaching the student often does not even develop any questions. He has no idea what to ask, because the teacher decides for him what he needs to know. A parable works differently.

Above all, it enables a person to see the unfamiliar in the familiar, the unexpected where everything has long seemed known and understood. It teaches a person to ask questions—and not idle ones. Some questions are asked for their own sake, simply to pass the time in a more or less learned and more or less friendly conversation. A parable teaches us to ask questions that have become urgent because what was familiar has, if not collapsed, at least begun to sway. Urgent questions are questions asked from within this kind of swaying reality.

A person is free, of course, and can brush the parable aside. His reality will then stand firm again—or at least so it will seem to him. In that case the parable will remain for him merely a tale, a fable, or an elegant paradox unrelated to his own life or to life in general. Jesus says of such people that seeing they do not see and hearing they do not hear.

Those inclined to listen must first become aware of the questions that arise from the parable and formulate them for themselves—to understand what they find unclear and unfamiliar within what is clear and familiar. A person can and must do this work himself; no hints are needed. Until he has done so, he remains among those whom the Savior calls “outsiders.” Once the questions have been formulated, they are asked—as Jesus' disciples ask them.

Only then is it possible to speak directly; then a person will hear and understand, each according to his measure. This is exactly how Jesus acts. He is no teacher in the worst sense of the word, one who forces his knowledge upon everyone who has not managed or been able to escape. He speaks only to those who are ready and want to hear, while leaving the door open for the others in case they too should want to enter.

What is a parable? Why does Jesus speak to the people by using parables? Why is it given to the disciples to know the mysteries of the Kingdom, with Jesus explaining the meaning of His parables to them, while leaving the others, as it appears, in ignorance? To answer all these questions, it is important to understand what parables were used for in antiquity, and in the East also in the Middle Ages and later, right up to the present day.

It would seem that the simplest thing would have been to explain everything plainly; then no one would have had any misunderstandings. In reality, however, such a direct approach is useful only in part, and not only because it trains a person away from thinking by offering ready-made answers. The point is also that, with this kind of teaching, the student often does not even have questions. He does not know what to ask about at all, because the teacher decides for him what he needs to know. A parable works differently.

Above all, it lets a person see the unfamiliar in the familiar, the unexpected where everything had seemed long known and understood. It teaches a person to ask questions, and not idle ones. There are, after all, questions asked for the sake of questions, just to pass the time in a more or less learned and more or less friendly conversation. But a parable teaches one to ask questions that become urgent because the familiar has, if not collapsed, then at least been shaken. Urgent questions are questions asked from inside just such a shaken reality.

A person is, of course, free; he can brush the parable aside, and then his reality will again stand firm, or at least it will seem that way to him. In that case the parable will remain for him only a tale, a fable, a beautiful paradox with no relation to his own life or to life in general. It is about such people that Jesus says they see without seeing and hear without hearing.

Those who are inclined to listen must first become aware of the questions that flow from the parable and formulate them for themselves. They must understand what is unclear and unfamiliar to them in what is clear and familiar. A person can and must do this work himself; no hints are needed here. Until he has done it, he remains among those whom the Savior calls "outsiders." But once the questions have been formulated, they are asked, as Jesus' disciples do.

Only then can one speak plainly; then a person will hear and understand, of course according to his own measure. Jesus acts in exactly this way. He is not a teacher in the worst sense of the word, one of those who impose their knowledge on everyone who has not managed or been able to run away. He speaks only to those who are ready to hear and want to do so, leaving the door open for the rest as well, in case they want to enter.

At a certain point the Lord, who had previously proclaimed clearly to the crowds, chooses the Twelve, sends them out to preach, and chooses to speak in parables. Even the disciples noticed this and asked Him directly: why do You speak to them in parables? Evidently, this was a rather sharp change in the Savior's way of acting. In answer Christ quotes Isaiah's bitter words that we see without seeing and hear without understanding. Then He lists the sad fates of the human heart, speaking of the word that Satan snatches away, that the cares of this age choke, or that our human immaturity ruins. Perhaps the Lord's parables also have a pedagogical purpose. They are indeed images impossible to forget. But why, then, is there such sorrow in His words?

Our faith is a very simple thing. It contains Mystery, but it contains no secret doctrine and no allegories hidden from the uninitiated. Yet the simple words "love your neighbor" or "seek the Kingdom of God and His righteousness" turn out to be insurmountably difficult for us. We want something special, with mysticism and obscurity, with difficult exercises and, without fail, profound thought; or else, on the contrary, give us something visible, like a theocratic state and unbroken "victories over the adversaries," since we have many adversaries and still more people who simply annoy us.

And therefore this image of the sower, who sows most of the seed without result, is inexpressibly sad. Our happiness consists in this: any one of us would long ago have stopped sowing in such hopeless conditions. Any one of us would first have found a better plot and would not have sown just anywhere. But He is God, not man. And He does not stop giving us His word. If we do not want to receive His word in simplicity, He sows in parables, so that, having received the testimony in His Blood on the Cross, we may at last open our eyes and, seeing, see, and hearing, hear and understand and turn back, so that He may heal us.

In another text Jesus says that Scripture bears witness about Him. Indeed, the books of the Old Testament are full of prophecies about the Messiah, expectation of His coming, and people's sincere dream of meeting Him. And now He has come, and the disciples constantly see and hear Him. But what do they see and hear? The same can be said of us: Christ is near, His word sounds, His works are being done, and we do not see and do not hear. We are immersed in our own cares, and only the vile sensations of this world attract our attention. And not seeing and not hearing, we do not give thanks either...

As can be seen, Jesus' attitude toward blood ties is, if not always negative, always restrained and critical. Such an attitude seems surprising if we consider the role that tribal and clan identity played in Jewish society. In fact, belonging to the people of God itself was defined by clan and tribal lines. Yet Jesus pushes family ties into the background.

One might, of course, think that Jesus is a man of another era, the era of Hellenistic civilization and great empires. In that era a person's origin meant less than his personality. But the issue, as can be seen, is still not only the era, especially since Jewish society remained very conservative with regard to clan and family ties.

Jesus, of course, does not say by chance that his relatives are those who do the will of God. And the point here is not only that he needed like-minded people and helpers. The point lies in the very essence of blood relationships. They are certainly a powerful binding factor among people in a fallen world, and in this lies their strength. But in this also lies their weakness: by binding people to one another, they also bind them to the untransformed order of things, including them in that order as firmly as nothing else can. Then it turns out that for the sake of the Kingdom blood ties must, if not be broken completely, at least be pushed into the background.

It would seem that such a decision rules out the very possibility of doing anything for the salvation of one's loved ones. But that is not always so. In order to save others, one must first oneself share in the life of the Kingdom, whose breath alone is saving. As long as relationships that were purely natural do not change their quality, such sharing will remain impossible. On the other hand, the spiritual transformation of a Christian's life often objectively disrupts former blood ties if relatives do not walk the same path with him: if one of them is ready to build relationships with a neighbor according to the laws of the Kingdom and the other is not, relations between them will in essence become impossible. But the one who has not yet begun his path into the Kingdom will have the opportunity to make use of the support of his Christian relative if and when he does begin that path, because that relative will be ready for new relationships and will "catch" them as soon as the person taking the first step feels the need for them.

Such blood ties, transformed by the breath of the Kingdom, can become not a brake but a help for spiritual life. And Jesus, knowing this, does not cling to the old, but offers his followers a new life with renewed relationships.

What has Christ's coming given us? Salvation from evil? Yes, of course... but evil and suffering did not vanish from the world by the wave of a magic wand. Jesus Himself not only endures terrible sufferings on the Cross; He endures them innocently. And He also says that those who want to be His disciples should likewise take up their cross and follow Him. In what, then, does this salvation from evil consist?

Perhaps this is too human an approach. In one of the Gospel readings Jesus reminds us that if you have merely been freed from an evil spirit, but its place in your heart remains unoccupied, in the end something even worse will overtake you. Salvation only from what we consider bad is, alas, too little. Too little for a person who looks the truth in the face. But, fortunately, it is too little for the Creator as well.

And therefore He offers us something immeasurably better: adoption. We can enter the family of Jesus of Nazareth and become His adopted brothers and sisters. More than that, the possibility of an exceptional, essential union with Him is open to us, the same as His Mother's. To be brothers of Jesus, and therefore to be adopted by His Father and His Mother, to share His divine-humanity with Him, only one thing is required: to say to the Father as Jesus Himself says, "Not My will, but Yours be done."

Salvation from the unpleasant, the bad, the evil is a human approach. Such escapism is hardly proper to God. He does not flee from evil, but confronts it on the Cross and conquers. You may seek comfort and sweet piety, but then from the hell of violence you will go straight into the hell of hypocrisy; or you may agree to adoption by the Heavenly Father. Yes, this is a difficult path, at times painfully difficult, and your adopted Brother, Jesus, died on it. But by becoming His brother, you will also share His victory over evil. The choice between defeat, flight, and victory is yours.