If there is a spring in my step and a smile on my face, it might be because I am quickly approaching my wedding day to my fiancé Aaron.  But there might also be another reason why I am a little more energetic than usual.  This is the first year - minus one interim year between college and seminary - that I am not going back to school this fall. And though graduation day was several months ago now, I still find myself getting used to the fact my diploma is official. It’s hard to believe that no one is expecting me in class, I don’t have to carry a backpack; I can go home at night and read whatever I want to.   Yet, I still see all the familiar signs – school supplies aisles sufficiently picked over in grocery stores, blinking lights in school zones, more traffic in the mornings and then, tomorrow is Labor Day – the holiday that has forever signaled the end of the summer, the last day the pool is open, the beginning of a new academic year, gearing up for all the activities that will soon begin.   Isn’t that what Labor Day is all about?

Well, even though I am out of school, I still remember how to research, so I took it upon myself to find out what the Labor Day holiday is all about.  Probably, most of us have never heard of Peter McGuire, the Irish-American cabinetmaker and pioneer unionist who proposed this holiday over more than a hundred years ago in New York City.  He was a leader of the labor movement, who advocated for a shorter and more reasonable eight-hour workday, a fact that we now take for granted.  And in September of 1882 he helped stage a parade up Broadway to Union Square, where more than 10,000 workers participated at the risk of losing their jobs.  And thus, Labor Day was unofficially born to give the American worker a day of rest and celebration from labor. Twelve years later, President Cleveland signed the bill that made the holiday official for our nation. So, I found out that tomorrow’s holiday was founded not as a day to get caught up on all the myriad of activities that will soon make demands upon our schedule as the fall season returns, but a day of rest from the hard work we do.

It turns out that today’s gospel passage, the parable of the sower, might offer a similar example of a story that appears to be about labor at first glance, but like my Labor Day research, may instead, suggest an alternative interpretation.

Most of you have the read and heard the parable of the sower numerous times in your lives.  A farmer goes out to sow seeds. Yet seeds on the path are snatched away by birds. Other seeds fall on a rocky place where they spring up fast yet are scorched by the sun because they have no root.  And still others fall among a thorny patch where the thorns choke the seeds.  And, finally, some seeds fall upon good soil and yield grain, 100, 60 and 30 fold.

And while we’ve all heard the parable that Jesus tells in verses 1-8, we usually move quickly to the explanation found eight verses later.   The most frequent interpretation and application of the passage I received was the summons to examine my soil– am I the path where the birds eat the seeds sown?  Am I the rocky soil, enjoying the seed momentarily only to fall away after I experience persecution or trouble?  Am I the thorny ground, where concerns of the world and wealth choke my ability to bear fruit?  Or am I the good soil, where the seed is sown and then bears a harvest hundredfold?  I remember sitting in church as a child, trying to determine what kind of soil I was, of course wanting desperately to be the good soil.  I can even picture a book we worked on in Sunday school where we were to draw the type of soil our hearts reflected, that is – to decide what our level of receptivity to God’s word was.  (Once, wanting to be honest yet feeling terribly conflicted, I decided to choose all four soils, recognizing that my obedience to God’s word was not hot or cold, good or thorny, but kind of mixed, reflecting all types of conditions where I do and I do not let God’s word be fruitful in my life.)

And not just in my experiences but for centuries the implicit homiletical question “what kind of soil am I?” has dominated interpretations and explanations of the parable. We focus on checking our soil and how we respond to the word sown, which is, of course, important for a dynamic walk with God, open to evaluation and refining.  But - like my Labor Day research - something interesting turned up as I studied this passage that wasn’t evident to me before.  For a variety of reasons, more than ten in fact, scholars believe that the interpretation of the parable found in verses 18-23 were added at a later date than the parable. I will give some reasons now but see me afterwards if you are interested to know the evidence that led to their conclusions. Suffice it to say for now, the second half of today’s readings were most likely added by the church several years after Jesus’ parable to encourage the Christian believers to work hard to bring in the harvest. 

For example, verses 18-23 helped encourage Christians who encountered less than desirable soil as they planted seeds, or shared the word with non-believers.   The second set of verses are more concerned about the realities of spreading the gospel and draws more attention to the losses than in the parable itself, which seems to celebrate the surprising harvest. 

It might be difficult for many of us today to hear the parable as seen in verses 1-8 independent of the allegorical interpretation found in verses 18-23.  We have always grown up reading the two together.   But the early church heard the parable of Jesus and interpreted for their time, which is what we do in sermons and Sunday school.  So if the interpretation reflected the early church’s hardships in telling the gospel, what was Jesus getting at in the parable itself? 

Tucked away in a series of eschatological discourse about the revealing of the kingdom of God, this parable often gets extracted from its original context.  Just like the proceeding parables of the mustard seed and parable of the wheat and tares, Matthew 13 is primarily focused on final ingathering and judgment, not checking the condition of one’s own soil. 

The original parable of Jesus seems to be more focused on the surprisingly abundant harvest despite initial threats.  In the parable, God’s kingdom does come in hundred, sixty and thirty fold.  The mysterious work of God finally comes to fruition, just like the germination of a seed in good soil.   In spite of the first three types of soil in which seeds are sown, God’s reign is evident in abundance. 

So, you ask, why does this interpretation matter?  Or, what difference does this interpretation make over the one given in verses 18-23?   Well, friends, an interpretation that recognizes God’s ultimate providence and work in all things, allows God to be God, and allows humans to have our God-given limitations.  The kingdom of God will come, despite our best efforts. The parable of the sowers shows us that the purposes of God is certain but full disclosure is yet to come.

The interpretation in verses 18-23 keeps us preoccupied with what type of soil we are and what type we are planting on - it keeps us busy, forever knowing that the rest of the labor awaits us.  But notice in the first eight verses, the sower simply scatters the seeds.  The alternative interpretation I offer to us is that we are called to be faithful sowers -yes, sharing the good news of Christ to all - but we are free to trust God, leaning on the promises of his grace and mercy to see our work to completion.  Then, as God’s creation, we are able to enjoy the rest of the labor - that is the grace of the labor, the non-worried-ness of the labor.   As we plant seeds of the word which God commanded to us at the end of Matthew in the Great Commission, we go planting not worrying about where our seeds may fall and what every condition of the soil of the hearers is along the way.  We go planting in full trust that God will reveal the kingdom in God’s time and purposes.

If you don’t believe me, listen to Paul’s trust in God’s providence in I Corinthians 3: “I Paul planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.  So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”  We are responsible for scattering and planting and sowing and watering, but God is ultimately responsible for growing.

But what if we like the interpretation given in 18-23? Do we have to disregard it as un-germane to the original parable?  Certainly not!  The rest or grace of the labor, allows our hearts to be a soil of receptivity to God’s spirit, forever moving and breathing in our lives.  Maybe the path of productivity keeps us from soaking in God’s word.   If we are resting in our labor instead of stressing out about it, we are therefore, more free to be good soil, free from the rocks of anxiety and the thorns of obsession.

We live out our call of planting seeds by being obedient to God, in the gifts God has given us.  But, we should not become consumed with the receptivity of the soil of others. We are called to plant - and not just on soil that yields a good crop - look again at the sower in Matthew 13 who plants on all types of soil - because our duty is not measured by the characters of our hearers. Can everyone hear the grace in that truth?   And, we are not God; we are God’s servants, says Paul, building on the one foundation of Jesus Christ. And can I hear an amen on that one?

My homiletics professor in seminary told us that often preachers preach the very sermon they need to hear.  And so I stand before you today...Working three part-time ministry jobs with three different ministry committees to report to and three different Christian constituencies to understand is overwhelming!  I feel much pressure to “succeed,” especially in one job where I am the first campus minister they have ever had. I feel obligated to give them charts and graphs of student attendance to Bible studies, forums and worship services, but I have quickly learned in only a few weeks on the job hat true discipleship cannot be measured in an annual report.  I can tell you that twenty seven college students wrote their name on a sign-up sheet at my campus ministry table last week at an activities fair - and I can show that piece of paper to a committee.  But I cannot bring in the young freshman girl that sought me out at that same fair and wondered to me if there was a place for her in the church.  I will never be able to make a power point presentation of the hunger and genuineness in her eyes.  And I will never know if the conversation that we had that night will take root, much less bear fruit. So, I need to trust God, to do my duty of scattering the goods news God has given me. Mother Teresa reminds us that we are called to be faithful, not successful.

My primary job is youth director in my church in North Carolina.  We have gone to retreats and camps and mission trips all throughout the summer, and many times I wonder what gets through.  As I lead a devotion on the importance of prayer, I look up to see blank stares from tired faces and straws sticking out of ears and side conversations about the new CD they bought and I wonder if they get anything at all.   But then there are times like two weeks ago when a dozen youth from the congregation stood up and told how and what they had learned in their faith journey over our summer together and the ways God was working in their hearts.  

We are called to plant but not be controlled with growth and sometimes, we may never know the fruits of our labor.  But there are times when we do and we are encouraged to continue planting, trusting that God is working good in all things.  And if you need some encouragement today, I stand before you as a fruit of the labor of this faithful body of believers.   I am a fruit of your labor:  You’re the nursery worker who volunteered to care for the children each Sunday; or the Sunday school teacher who taught the 4-year olds every week. You’re the parent who agreed to spend a week of their summer vacation chaperoning a bus-load of noisy teenagers on a choir trip.  You’re the very patient adult who worked on children and youth musicals every year.   You’re the adult who faithfully led Bible Drill every Sunday so the word of God is written on our hearts. You taught me seventh grade Sunday school and became a fast friend. You were the tenth grade Sunday school teacher who continues to encourage me. You’re the twelfth grade Sunday school teacher who opened our eyes to new horizons in faith. You’re the choir director who gave us inspirational devotions at choir practice.  You sent the encouraging words when my dad was first paralyzed.  You sent letters and support when I went on a seminary trip to Cuba.  You prayed, and I know all of you did, for the young people who grew up in this church.  And I am sure some days you wondered if any of your labor was in vain.   You’re all the congregation who built Cliff Temple, building on the foundation of Jesus Christ already laid, but adding your own bricks of tithing and prayer and participation and nurture.  Of course, I am not the only or the first person who has received the labor of this congregation.  Many of my peers experienced the same strong biblical foundation and loving support.  And for over a hundred years there are countless of examples people like me who are fruits of your labor.  And, of course, I am not the last either.  Like Glen said two weeks ago, you should give without any present proof of future payoff.  So, what about that after school latch-key program you have talked about? You may have had different programs in the past, but take time to rest for new vision for Cliff Temple 2003.

Take heart this morning.  Take rest, trust God, so that you can do the labor before you.  Bathe in the grace that comes from giving your cares to God, of rest from the weariness of our labor.

We forget that we are not the master builders, that we are not the messiahs.  We think we know fully the purposes of God’s kingdom and forget our limitations of our humanity.  This is not meant to be discouraging – rather encouraging.   In spite of ourselves, God uses us to scatter seeds in God’s world.  The parable recognizes that, of course, the seed – or the word – encounters setbacks and disappointments along the way, but the sower does not seem surprised and neither should we. It is by grace and not by human effort that we are able to incorporate the word into our very being.  And, despite what may seem meager results, we pursue anyway.

Many of you have heard of Oscar Romero, a Catholic priest, was murdered in El Salvador in 1980.  As with many saints, a poem he wrote has lived on as one of the tributes to his legacy.  Listen and you will see why millions of people hunger for what he has to say.

It helps, now and then, to step back
and take the long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete,
which is another way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.

No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders,
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.