Today’s liturgical offerings present the Parable of the Sower and St. Paul’s epistle underscoring how we pin all our hopes on the Resurrection of the Dead. And of course, we do this in memory of Him: Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
Unless It Dies
“What you sow is not brought to life unless it dies. And what you sow is not the body that is to be but a bare kernel of wheat, perhaps, or of some other kind.” 1 Cor 15:36-37
As I reflected on these words of Saint Paul, it seems to me that the apostle is suggesting that what we have to sow is our very own body. We have an offering that takes a lifetime to prepare. But in order to bear fruit, it must die. The Saints drove their bodies to the utter limits, and they bore abundant fruit, there for all to see. Our mission must be to do the same. By the way we live our lives, and particularly by the way we wind down our lives, we can give testimony to The One who sacrificed His life for you and me. As His followers, we need to do the same.
For us Catholics, belief in the Resurrection of the Dead is a central tenet. Painful as it is, Death is the threshold that leads the soul to a new, unimaginably better, glorious new life, which will differ in kind as much as a plant from a seed. The natural body withers, breaks down, and goes the way of all flesh. And the heavenly body arises, marvelous to behold, the sight of which the mortal eye couldn’t bear—the urge to bow down and worship would become imperious. This has always brought a huge modicum of reassurance to me in the aftermath of losing a loved one.
Grace Builds on Nature
We cannot hope to do this by ourselves; our selfish self will tend only towards its natural behavior, desiring creature comfort and basking in hedonistic pleasure-seeking.
In verse 45, St. Paul writes:
“So, too, it is written, “The first man, Adam, became a living being,” the last Adam a life-giving spirit”. 1 Cor 15:45
In order to complete our mission, we need transformation.
Our nature tends towards the earthly, and it is only the life-giving Spirit, Jesus, that can re-image us from corruptible into incorruptible, dishonorable into glorious, weak into powerful, natural into spiritual, earthly into heavenly.
We have a lifetime to prepare this body to be a worthy offering to God. But this cannot happen accidentally. We need to be intentional disciples of the One who can turn this into reality.
Word of Life
Jesus, of course, is the Good Sower; He scatters His Word with abandon. It is flung far and wide, just as in the parable, and we see evidence of Christianity spread far beyond the borders of Israel. This faith all too often depended on the blood of the martyrs; their bodies were sown as bare kernels, which led to a rapid explosion of the faith, spanning borders, thawing hearts, and spawning saints. Paradoxically, where there is greater oppression, there precisely we find unmatched fervor. Conversely, when things are easy, we find multitudes that seemingly are content to remain in the same place, treading familiar terrain and shunning the perseverance the Lord demands.
The Word of God is scattered, thrown, and sown, designed to be planted deep into our human hearts. But our spiritual hearing needs to be tuned into His frequency. Because of the Fall, our earthly bodies will tend toward the earthly. It is only by adhering to the Heavenly, life-giving spirit of the last Adam that we place our dearest hope of bearing the image of the Heavenly One.
The Parable concludes with Jesus throwing down the gauntlet: “Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear.” Luke 8:8
The Word of God is alive, powerful, and destined to bring forth the fruit of salvation. Ultimately, the harvest depends on how we choose to receive it.
