This morning’s Gospel reading is Matthew 13:1–23:

On that day, Jesus went out of the house and sat down by the sea. Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat down, and the whole crowd stood along the shore. And he spoke to them at length in parables, saying: “A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep, and when the sun rose it was scorched, and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it. But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

The disciples approached him and said, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” He said to them in reply, “Because knowledge of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven has been granted to you, but to them it has not been granted. To anyone who has, more will be given and he will grow rich; from anyone who has not, even what he has will be taken away. This is why I speak to them in parables, because they look but do not see, and hear but do not listen or understand. Isaiah’s prophecy is fulfilled in them, which says: You shall indeed hear but not understand, you shall indeed look but never see. Gross is the heart of this people, they will hardly hear with their ears, they have closed their eyes, lest they see with their eyes and hear with their ears and understand with their hearts and be converted, and I heal them.

“But blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear. Amen, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.

“Hear then the parable of the sower. The seed sown on the path is the one who hears the word of the kingdom without understanding it, and the evil one comes and steals away what was sown in his heart. The seed sown on rocky ground is the one who hears the word and receives it at once with joy. But he has no root and lasts only for a time. When some tribulation or persecution comes because of the word, he immediately falls away. The seed sown among thorns is the one who hears the word, but then worldly anxiety and the lure of riches choke the word and it bears no fruit. But the seed sown on rich soil is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.”

I don’t play too many video games, being more a child of pinball machines, but I have played one for years: Civilization V. It has become an occasional obsession with me, a game that immerses me in the building of civilizations from the ground up. It has a seductive logic and flow, especially when played with friends, but it’s easy to play solo against the game, too.

Not long after a friend roped me into the game, we both discovered “mods,” which are analogous to cheat codes, only semi-officially sanctioned. These mods can only be used when playing alone, as they all give the player distinct advantages in one way or another. That is most true of the In-Game Editor mod, which my friends and I call “God mode,” and for good reason. It allows the player to change the game in literally every way possible; you can erase computer-player units, cities, and borders, add units at will, grant yourself every skill in the game, and basically win through absolute smiting.

And here’s the interesting thing about “God mode”: it becomes impossible to resist using its power. Every challenge tempts you to open the editor and reconfigure the game to your advantage. Every advance by your opponent annoys you to the point of wielding the Fist of Death (remember that from last week?). At some point in every game, you’ll want to drop a number of Giant Nuclear Robots to lay waste to your opponents’ capitals.

And while that can be satisfying … what have you really won?

Today’s Gospel brings this to mind, not just from the text itself but from the context of its presentation in the series The Chosen. As I recall, the episode shows the crowd asking Jesus why He is teaching them rather than just taking charge. The disciples, as noted in the Gospel passage today, ask the same question in a different way: why teach in parables? Both questions go to the heart of Jesus’ mission and the path to salvation: why not use the power He has rather than hint at it?

Even Jesus’ answer to the latter question doesn’t necessarily address the real issue on the disciples’ minds. “Because the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven has been given to you, but not to them.” If so, though, why not?

The reason is God’s love for us, and not just for creation but for us, specifically and individually. Jesus taught about meekness in last week’s Gospel reading, and repeatedly spoke about laying down one’s life for a friend. To ‘take charge’ in the material sense would be to overwhelm us with divinity without any preparation for its consequences. It would result in annihilation, not liberation. We would have no choice but to submit and obey as slaves and servants, eliminating our own spark of divinity within us that comes from being created in God’s image.

Jesus teaches in parables, especially at this stage of His ministry, for the same reason. Jesus teaches this more directly at the end of His ministry, when He must complete the sacrifice that will free us, because Jesus knows what will happen afterward. He will be rejected and executed unjustly, a response from Man to the Son of Man that comes directly out of the Garden of Eden: We want to remain in charge.

The disciples, soon to become apostles, get more direct testimony because the Lord has chosen them and gifted them as preparation to hear the true Word before its full revelation. This is what makes Simon Peter’s declaration of Jesus’ true nature such an important moment — the Father gifted him with that insight first, while Jesus had been careful to keep it hidden behind parables for their sake as well as the sake of the others. To declare Himself openly at the beginning would eliminate all of the preparation Jesus does to allow Judeans (and others) the time and information that will prepare them for what comes after Calvary. Otherwise, Jesus would have to come as a bloody conqueror, judging the world in that instant without the grace and mercy necessary for salvation.

In “God mode,” all gets destroyed eventually, except those who surrender into slavery and annihilation of self.

However much that Jesus has that divine authority, though, He meekly sets it aside in love to nurture us into salvation. The Lord does not want us as slaves; He wants us to love Him as children do their parents, choosing Him rather than having no choice at all. The Lord wants us to willingly adopt His will as our own, both for our own sake and the sake of His unbounded good for others, and to enter into the Trinitarian divine life as His family. That’s because God does not love us as a group, but He loves each of us individually, and calls us back to Him on that basis as well. I matter to Him as myself, and so do you all as yourselves, not just as generic humanity.

The choice remains ours, however, as Jesus makes clear in this parable. Jesus sows the Word as seed and then prepares for the harvest at a later time and place. This provides us with a hint as to the length of the mission; salvation will not be instantaneous, but rather a long age of farming, tending, and nurturing that which flowers into faith. Even then, the choice to allow those seeds to flourish remains our own. We can choose to be rocky ground, allow thorns to crowd out the Word in our hearts, or provide it only with surface cooperation and never let it truly take root. Or we can see it along the paths of our lives and never recognize its value, passing along as spectators rather than those seeking God’s love and mercy.

But that choice is long too. We have the opportunity in life to keep returning to our own field, so to speak, and considering the Word as we live our lives. God keeps calling to us for as long as we can hear, hoping that we will love Him as He loves us. A late harvest is better than no harvest at all, and its fruit can taste as sweet or sweeter.

God calls us to that feast, not as an order but as an invitation. He scatters that invitation all around us and within us, hoping that we will choose to follow Him and love Him and each other as He loves us. We choose what kind of ground that seed reaches — and we have that choice because God loves us too much to turn us into slaves.

The front-page image is “Parable of the Sower (September)” by Marten van Valckenborch, c. 1580-90. On display at the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. Via Wikimedia Commons. 

“Sunday Reflection” is a regular feature, looking at the specific readings used in today’s Mass in Catholic parishes around the world. The reflection represents only my own point of view, intended to help prepare myself for the Lord’s day and perhaps spark a meaningful discussion. Previous Sunday Reflections from the main page can be found here.