Oops!
Have you ever planted something in bad soil? You buy good seeds. You water faithfully. You give it sun. And still—nothing grows. The ground isn’t ready. It’s too hard. Too shallow. Too crowded with weeds.
Jesus knew this frustration. In today’s Gospel, He tells the parable of the sower. A farmer scatters seed everywhere—on the path where it’s trampled, on rocky ground where it withers, among thorns where it’s choked. And finally, some falls on good soil. There it grows, strong and fruitful.
The seed is the Word of God. The question isn’t whether God is speaking—He never stops sowing. The question is this: Is the soil of our hearts ready to receive what He gives?
We hear God’s Word, but it doesn’t always grow. Sometimes it bounces off the surface—our hearts too distracted. Sometimes we receive it with excitement, but it fades when life turns difficult.
Jesus’ parable cuts to the truth: hearing isn’t enough. We must cultivate the soil so the Word can take root.
Ugh!
St. Gregory of Nyssa gives us a striking image of what happens when our hearts lack depth. He recalls Aesop’s fable of the dog crossing a bridge with meat in his mouth. Looking into the water below, the dog sees his reflection—another dog with another piece of meat.
Greedy for more, he opens his mouth to grab it. The meat drops. The reflection vanishes. And, the dog goes hungry.
Gregory says this is the human soul. God offers us what is truly good—Himself—but we’re deceived by mere appearances. We let go of what is real and nourishing to chase a glittering reflection.
This is what happens to seed on rocky or thorny soil. God offers His Word, His presence, His love—and we drop it. We chase what looks shinier: success, comfort, busyness, distraction.
Our modern lives overflow with these reflections:
We scroll endlessly through social media, longing for connection—and feel more alone.
We pack our calendars until there’s no room for silence or prayer.
We chase comfort or approval—and neglect the deeper joy that comes only from communion with God.
Like that dog, we end up hungry. We traded what was truly good for what only seemed good.
Aha!
But here’s the good news: God never stops sowing. He doesn’t give up. Even when the soil is dry, rocky, or full of weeds, the Sower keeps scattering His Word, hoping it will take root.
Gregory tells us our mind and heart were created with a natural desire for the good. That desire never dies—it just needs training, reorienting, cultivating. Preparing good soil means learning again to desire what is truly good, not just what appears good.
This takes time and care. Soil must be tilled. Rocks cleared. Weeds pulled up by the roots.
The same is true for our hearts. We must make space for God to work—through prayer, repentance, and attention.
Whee!
Imagine if our whole parish became a place where the soil is rich and ready for God’s Word to grow.
Where children are formed in faith through catechism and example—where they see their parents and teachers living the Gospel with joy.
Where adults go deeper in prayer, study, and confession, letting faith’s roots reach down into the hard soil of their lives.
Where worship waters the soul, fellowship pulls out weeds of loneliness, and love bears fruit that blesses our city.
This is the vision of catechesis and formation: helping one another cultivate soil where God’s Word can truly take root.
Yeah!
This week, ask yourself: What kind of soil am I offering God?
Are there stones of distraction I need to clear?
Are there weeds—resentments, habits, fears—choking the Word’s growth in me?
What might it look like to tend the soil more faithfully—through prayer, silence, service, worship?
The good news is this: the Sower never stops sowing.
He is generous and patient. Hard ground can become fertile again. Dry soil can drink in the rain.
And when the seed of God’s Word finally takes root in us—it bears fruit a hundredfold.
Amen.