Yesterday, we had our first taste of corn on the cob for the season of 2020. This morning it occurred to me as I read the gospel for today’s liturgical services (MT 13: 1-23 or 13: 1-9) that I had been deprived of one of my favorite Scriptural images and on-going meditations this year since the farmers along NY Route 81 had plowed and planted their fields of corn early on, before the pandemic took hold. I often travel that route and wait each spring and early summer for the miracle. First there is just a tinge of green throughout the rows of soil. Then tiny shoots appear and a week later, should I be passing by again, the soil has been overtaken by the planted corn. From then on everything speeds up and within weeks—by the 4th of July—the exponential growth is clear and we begin to look for the vegetable stands along the way.
I always say that corn is my favorite miracle because once the planting is complete it seems as if the effort is over and all that’s left is to wait. The waiting, I imagine, is the most difficult for farmers who have no control over the weather or diseases of the crops. And their livelihood depends on the corn for the feeding of the cattle—or the hungry New Yorkers, as the case may be. But the farmers are certainly busy throughout these months. It is the time of the invisible work for the passersby. We can’t see them checking the weather or inspecting the ears or watering thirsty fields or loving the earth and the relationships that exist between grower and the growing.
I feel as if the longer version of the gospel selection is the one we ought to reflect upon today, where Jesus is asked why he speaks in parables and answers that the people look but do not see, hear but do not understand…Gross is the heart of this people...It brings to mind the news story yesterday of a young woman who went to a party recently, (no masks required), contracted the coronavirus and, on her deathbed said, “I thought it was a hoax…but it wasn’t.” How long will we—as a nation—persist in our willfulness, hearing but not understanding, doing as we please, refusing to remember that we are endangering others when we ignore the rules?
May we listen in this growing season with our inner ears, hear with our hearts and pay attention to what we cannot see in order that we will live to see another spring.
The lectionary readings for today are a little scary. In the first (from Genesis 6&7) God is lamenting that he created humans at all because of how wicked they have become. The only solution, God thinks, is destruction of all humans. animals and birds. “For I am sorry that I made them,” God says. Thank heaven that Noah showed up as the one shining creation, enough to save the world because “he did what God commanded him.”
We’re bracing for a storm here in the Northeast. It’s no surprise. In addition to the reports coming in from all across the country to our west, the traditionalists just say, “We always have one doozy of a storm in March – usually in the middle – before the surrender to spring.” I learned early in my life that “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” It’s predicted that we will have 8 to 15 inches of snow, more than my town has had this whole winter season!
Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be a concrete thinker. Simile, metaphor, analogy and other figures of speech can trip you up if you think people are talking on one level and they are really somewhere else. When Jesus spoke this morning about “the leaven of the Pharisees and Herod” (Mk 8:14-21), the disciples were worried because they only had one loaf of bread with them in their boat. Not exactly his point. The flurry of questions that followed (seven in all) reveal how frustrated Jesus became with their misunderstanding.
Jesus is out and about again this morning preaching in parables – this time Mark’s version of the sower and the seed (MK 4:1-20). I wonder if it was a whole crowd of blank looks staring back at him and then later the questions from “the Twelve” that frustrated him enough to have him ask, “Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand any of the parables?”
Today is the feast of St. Luke, known to be the writer not only of the third Gospel but also of the Acts of the Apostles, the story of the early days and spread of Christianity. There is a line in the commentary from Franciscan Media that caused me to pause and think about this man whose version of the “Good News” has been variously subtitled the gospel: of mercy, of universal salvation, of the poor, of absolute renunciation, of prayer and the Holy Spirit, and of joy. The commentary said that as a companion to Paul, Luke traveled to many places and consequently had time to seek information and interview persons who had known Jesus.
Yesterday afternoon I was in a gathering where we were discussing change using a number of quotes on the subject. It was fascinating to hear the different reactions to the various quotes depending on our interpretations of how the words were used in the sentences, or how a little word like “all” could challenge someone who is uncomfortable with such determinism. It was a great, stretching conversation that pointed up the need to really listen to the voices of others who differed according to culture and life experiences. etc. when interpreting what was being said.
Today takes it’s cue somewhat from yesterday’s entry. In the book of Jesuit prayers entitled Hearts on Fire, there is a prayer written by Pedro Arrupe, who was the beloved Superior General (world leader) of the Society of Jesus for 18 years (1965-1983) -a long term of office for anyone! His prayer gives a clue of how to bring the Scriptures alive in our daily journey, helping us to take our cue from Christ’s interaction with all sorts of people as he opened himself to all who crossed his path.
