I always wonder, when I read the parable of the sower, what makes the good soil so good. The obvious answer, comparing it with the bad soils in the parable, is that it is neither choked by weeds, nor scorched by the sun, or plagued neither by birds nor thorns. But these seem like secondary differences. Why are there no thorns or weeds in the prime soil? What makes it so ready to receive the sower’s seed, or so powerful in nurturing that seed that it gives the sower the joy of good and abundant fruit?
I came across a lengthy quotation today in a book about acedia, one of the most virulent and troublesome vices in this age of mass-media, instantaneous power, and infinite entertainment. The quotation is about the agricultural benefit of proper grazing, which creates a positive feedback loop:
The shorn grass plant, endeavoring to restore the rough balance between its roots and leaves, will proceed to shed as much root mass as it’s just lost in leaf mass. When the discarded roots die, the soil’s resident population of bacteria, fungi, and earthworms will get to work breaking them down into rich grown humus. … It is in this manner that the grazing of ruminants, when managed properly, actually builds new soil from the bottom up. … [I]n the absence of grazers the soil-building process would be nowhere near as swift or productive. (1)
When the field is under-grazed, the soil does not develop as much as it could, and in extreme cases, when it is not grazed at all, it might lose all nutrients, all coherence, all stability, reverting to dust. On the other hand, when the field is over-grazed, it suffers so much violence that it is rendered barren, having no nutrients left over to provide for new growth. Only when the field is grazed appropriately, in a way that respects its integrity, will the grass shed its roots, build up the soil, enrich it with nutrients, and make it a fit place for water to soak in and animals to live.
How beautiful this is! The grass and the cattle are made for each other! By browsing the grass, the cows encourage it to discard what it does not need, which enriches the soil, building it up with good decaying material, and forms new topsoil as it decomposes. This makes for healthier, richer (maybe even more delicious) grass for the cows. I cannot say if this quotation alone represents a complete understanding about the benefits of grazing, and I have done no additional research, but I want to take it as a kind of interpretational key for Luke.
Two insights appear: first, the field, in order to produce good soil, must be given up to grazing. Its fruitfulness is predicated on whether or not it is prone to give itself away. The weeds of vice and sin abound in a soul which refuses to let itself be consumed by love for others. Just as the grass is not for the field first but for the sheep and the cows and even for the dirt, which all help make it good soil, so my gifts are not for me, but for the people around me, the people in my life that I am empowered to serve, even if they are only passing through. I must have a well-grazed soul if I wish my heart to be prime soil for the Word of God.
This brings us to the second insight. My soul must not be left ungrazed, but neither should it be over-grazed. I must avoid spending myself on endless activity, wasting my inner energy on fruitless pursuits. In other words, my self-gift must proceed according to a plan, an intelligent design. The fields of the earth were not left to themselves to be grazed or left ungrazed according to chance: instead, God made a gardener, Adam, to whom he gave the command to till, subdue, and fill the earth. Man’s prerogative with respect to creation is to bring out its secret inner fruitfulness, even beyond the bounds of what is only possible when nature is left to itself, by working it according to his reason. Man shepherds the grass as well as the cattle. My soul, therefore, must give itself away not randomly, like people who give themselves over to every successive thought, plan, desire, or word, speaking and acting and moving in a senseless fury of unreasonable passions, but rather according to the will of God, who has a plan for my life—who is my shepherd. When He says, “Go,” I must go; when He says, “Stay,” I must stay. Perhaps I see that there is a lot of grass in the field of my heart which I want to give out for grazing, but if the Lord says no, that I should let it be, it must be for the sake of the fruitfulness of my heart. Or if I feel that I have already given too much, that I am spent and consumed, that my heart cannot afford to give away any more of its energy or treasure, and yet the Lord shepherds even more sheep onto the field of my heart and asks me to feed them and care for them. It is no argument to tell the Lord that such a gift will keep me from being fruitful, from having the good soil of the heart. No; rather, it is in giving that we receive. The Lord knows what I am and am not capable of.
St. Teresa of Avila said that the Lord never visits the soul without enriching it. He is the perfect shepherd, the Gardener of Souls, whose plan for me is perfect, even if it is sometimes difficult to see. Whatever He does, whether He fills me or empties me, I can be sure that He does it for love of me. Therefore, just as we can see that prime soil is made by grazing the grass just the right amount, not too much, and not too little, so we can learn to trust the Lord completely, receiving whatever happens in our lives as a pure gift from Him which He sends us in order to make our souls that much more fertile. And the seed our Divine Gardener sows is nothing less than Himself, the delightful Word of God.
No more shall men call you “Forsaken,”
Or your land “Desolate,”
But you shall be called “My Delight,”
And your land “Espoused,”
For the Lord delights in you,
And makes your land his spouse.
As a young man marries a virgin,
Your Builder shall marry you;
And as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride, So shall your God rejoice in you. (Is 62:4-5)
(1) Michael Pollan, The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals (New York: Penguin Books, 2006), 196. Quoted by R.J. Snell, Acedia and its Discontents: Metaphysical Boredom in an Empire of Desire (Kettering, OH: Angelico Press, 2015), 49. I highly recommend this latter book.
