The Soil of the Soul - Homily for the 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time Year A

 

Homily – Matthew 13:1–23

The Soil of the Soul

Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary Parish
Deacon Pat Kearns

Have you ever noticed that Jesus often taught His greatest lessons by talking about the ordinary things of life? Fishing nets… sheep… vineyards… coins… bread.

Why?

Because He wanted people to discover that God is not found only in extraordinary moments. God is speaking to us through the ordinary moments of every day.

Today's Gospel is one of those moments.

Jesus sits in a boat just offshore while a crowd gathers on the beach. Looking out over the fields, He points to a farmer scattering seed and says, in effect, "If you really want to understand the Kingdom of God, watch that farmer."

At first, it sounds like a lesson about agriculture.

But by the end, we realize it is really a lesson about our hearts.

Let me tell you a story.

Several years ago, a man decided he wanted the nicest lawn in his neighborhood.

He bought the highest-quality grass seed available. He spread it carefully. Watered it every day. Waited patiently.

A few weeks later, parts of his lawn were green.

Other parts were nothing but dirt.

Still others were covered in weeds.

Frustrated, he called an experienced landscaper.

"I bought the best seed," he complained. "Why didn't it grow?"

The landscaper smiled and said,

"The problem wasn't the seed.

The problem was the soil."

The ground had never been prepared.

There were rocks underneath.

The soil was compacted.

Old weeds were still alive beneath the surface.

The seed was perfect.

The soil wasn't ready.

And that's exactly where Jesus wants to take us today.

Because His Word is always perfect.

If it isn't bearing fruit in our lives, the question isn't about the seed.

It's about the condition of our hearts.

So let's look at the four kinds of soil Jesus describes and ask ourselves a simple question: Which one sounds most like me?

1^st - The Hard Path

Jesus begins with the seed that falls along the path.

The ground is so hard that the seed cannot even enter.

Birds quickly come and carry it away.

Have you ever noticed how a walking trail becomes harder every year?

Thousands of footsteps eventually create ground where nothing grows.

The same thing can happen spiritually.

Life can harden us.

Disappointments.

Broken relationships.

Loss.

Stress.

Years of routine.

Even the constant noise of our culture.

Slowly our hearts become less receptive.

We still come to Mass.

We still hear Scripture.

We still pray the responses.

But nothing sinks in anymore.

Not because God stopped speaking...

But because we've stopped listening.

The evil one doesn't even have to steal the seed.

It never entered the heart in the first place.

But thankfully, Jesus doesn't stop there.

He knows some hearts aren't hard...

They're simply shallow.

2^nd - The Rocky Soil

Jesus now describes rocky ground.

The seed sprouts immediately.

Everything looks wonderful.

Until the sun comes out.

Then it withers.

How many of us have experienced that?

We attend a retreat.

We make a great confession.

We leave inspired.

We promise God we'll never be the same.

Then Monday morning arrives.

Traffic.

Bills.

Difficult coworkers.

Family struggles.

Health concerns.

And suddenly our enthusiasm begins to fade.

Faith built only on emotion rarely survives hardship.

Real faith grows roots.

Roots grow during quiet prayer.

During daily Mass.

During ordinary mornings.

During perseverance.

During choosing Christ when nobody notices.

Those hidden moments are where saints are formed.

And yet Jesus tells us there is another danger—one that may be even more common today.

3^rd - The Thorny Soil

The third soil actually receives the seed.

It begins growing.

But something else grows with it.

The thorns.

Notice what Jesus says.

He doesn't mention terrible sins.

He mentions worries.

Anxiety.

The pursuit of wealth.

The distractions of life.

That's striking.

Because most Christians don't lose their faith overnight.

It simply gets crowded out.

Work becomes busier.

Schedules become fuller.

Phones become louder.

Televisions stay on.

Social media demands attention.

The calendar fills.

Prayer disappears.

Before long, Christ isn't rejected.

He's just squeezed out.

Perhaps Satan's greatest weapon today isn't persecution.

It's distraction.

If he can keep us busy enough...

He can keep us spiritually hungry without us even realizing it.

Which brings us to the final soil... and thankfully, it's the one God desires for every one of us.

4^th - The Good Soil

Jesus finally speaks of good soil.

Here's something farmers understand.

Good soil isn't naturally perfect.

It becomes good because someone worked it.

It was broken.

Turned over.

The rocks were removed.

The weeds were pulled.

It was cultivated.

Isn't that exactly what God does in our lives?

Sometimes suffering softens us.

Sometimes failure humbles us.

Sometimes illness reminds us we need Him.

Confession removes the weeds.

Prayer softens the ground.

The Eucharist nourishes the roots.

Little by little...

Our hearts become fertile ground.

Then something beautiful happens.

The same seed that produced nothing in one heart...

Produces thirty...

Sixty...

Even one hundredfold...

In another.

That's what grace can do.

 

Let me now share a Story About Growth

I love something farmers often say.

"You can't make a seed grow."

You can water it.

Protect it.

Cultivate the soil.

But growth happens quietly.

Almost invisibly.

That's exactly how holiness works.

Most saints didn't become saints in one dramatic moment.

They became saints through thousands of ordinary acts of faithfulness.

One prayer.

One Rosary.

One act of forgiveness.

One Holy Communion.

One visit to someone who was lonely.

One sacrifice.

One act of generosity.

Again...

And again...

And again.

Until one day people looked at them and said,

"There's something different about that person."

That difference was Christ.

Growing quietly inside them.

 

So, what does Jesus want us to do this week?

Not become perfect.

Simply become more receptive.

Maybe He wants to soften one hard place in your heart.

Maybe He wants to remove one rock you've been carrying for years.

Maybe He wants you to pull one thorn from your life.

Maybe that thorn is resentment.

Maybe it's fear.

Maybe it's constant busyness.

Maybe it's spending more time scrolling than praying.

Don't try to change everything this week.

Just let God change one thing.

Because one stone removed...

Makes room for deeper roots.

One weed removed...

Lets in more light.

One act of surrender...

Can change a life.

 

My brothers and sisters,

Every Sunday, the Divine Sower walks into this church.

Again today...

He scatters His Word generously.

The seed is perfect.

The Sower is faithful.

The harvest is possible.

The only question remaining is this:

What kind of soil will I be today?

As we come forward in just a few moments to receive Jesus in the Holy Eucharist, let us ask Him to do what only He can do.

Break up the hardened places.

Remove the hidden rocks.

Pull away the choking weeds.

Fill our hearts with the richness of His grace.

So that His Word may bear fruit...

Thirty...

Sixty...

Even one hundredfold...

For His glory...

For His Church...

And for the salvation of the world.

Amen.

Come to me and Find Rest (Homily for Year A - Ordinary Time - 14th Sunday)

 

Homily on Matthew 11:25-30

"Come to Me and Find Rest"

My brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today's Gospel contains some of the most beautiful and hope-filled words ever spoken:

"Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest."

These are not simply comforting words. They are a personal invitation from Jesus Himself.

And perhaps there has never been a time when people needed to hear those words more than they do today.

We live in a world that is tired.

People are physically exhausted from work and responsibilities. Emotionally drained by family struggles, broken relationships, and financial pressures. Spiritually weary from anxiety, uncertainty, and the constant noise of modern life.

Many people walk into church each Sunday smiling on the outside while carrying tremendous burdens on the inside.

Some are grieving.

Some are worried about children or grandchildren.

Some are caring for aging parents.

Some are struggling with illness.

Some carry guilt from choices made years ago.

And some simply wonder how much longer they can keep going.

Jesus sees every one of those burdens.

And He says, "Come to me."

Notice what Jesus does not say.

He does not say, "Fix yourself first."

He does not say, "Get your life together and then come."

He does not say, "Only the strong need apply."

No.

He says, "Come to me—all of you."

And perhaps that's exactly what makes Christianity so beautiful. We come to Jesus not because we have it all together, but precisely because we do not.

Here is a story that might help us understanding this gospel a little more deeply.

A father once took his young son on a hike through the mountains. Along the trail, the boy began collecting rocks—small ones at first, then larger and larger ones. Before long, his backpack was overflowing.

At the beginning of the hike, he proudly carried his treasure.

But after several miles, he became tired, discouraged, and irritable.

Seeing his struggle, the father asked, "Son, why are you carrying all those rocks?"

The boy answered, "I didn't want to leave any behind."

The father smiled and said, "You don't have to carry them all. Give some to me."

One by one, the son handed the rocks to his father, and immediately the journey became easier.

Brothers and sisters, many of us are still carrying rocks.

Rocks of resentment.

Rocks of fear.

Rocks of guilt.

Rocks of grief.

Rocks of anxiety about a future that has not yet arrived.

And Jesus lovingly says to us, "You do not have to carry all of that alone."

Yet after inviting us to come to Him, Jesus says something that initially seems surprising:

"Take my yoke upon you."

At first glance, that sounds like another burden.

But in the time of Jesus, a yoke joined two animals together so they could pull as one.

Jesus is not adding weight to our lives.

He is offering to share the load.

He is saying, "Stop trying to carry life by yourself. Walk with Me. Let Me shoulder the burden with you."

The truth is, many of us spend enormous energy trying to carry what was never meant to be carried alone.

We try to control everything.

We try to solve every problem.

We try to manage every outcome.

And when we cannot, we become anxious and restless.

Saint Augustine famously wrote:

"Our hearts are restless until they rest in You."

How true those words are.

The world offers many substitutes for rest.

Entertainment.

Success.

Possessions.

Social media.

Distractions.

Yet despite all these things, our hearts often remain restless.

Because what we truly long for is not merely relaxation.

We long for God.

Jesus then reveals something profound about His own heart.

"Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart."

The world teaches us that happiness comes from power, prestige, recognition, and control.

Jesus teaches something radically different.

Peace comes through humility.

Greatness comes through service.

Freedom comes through surrender.

The saints understood this.

Many suffered greatly, yet radiated peace because they had learned to entrust everything to Christ.

They knew that no burden carried with Jesus is ever carried alone.

In Closing

I invite each of us to ask ourselves:

What burden am I carrying that Jesus is asking me to surrender?

Perhaps it is fear.

Perhaps it is grief.

Perhaps it is anger.

Perhaps it is guilt.

Perhaps it is a wounded relationship.

Whatever it is, Jesus says:

"Come to me."

Not next week.

Not when life is perfect.

Today.

Bring it to Him in prayer.

Bring it to Him in the Eucharist.

Bring it to Him in Confession.

Lay it at the foot of the Cross.

Jesus never promised us a life without crosses.

But He did promise that we would never carry them alone.

For His yoke is easy.

His burden is light.

And in Him, we will find the rest our souls have been seeking all along.

Amen.

Choosing Christ Above All Else (Year A 13th Sunday)

 

Homily on Matthew 10:37–42

"Choosing Christ Above All Else"

My brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today's Gospel is one of the most challenging passages in all of Sacred Scripture.

Jesus says:

"Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me."

At first hearing, these words may make us uncomfortable.

After all, doesn't the Fourth Commandment tell us to honor our father and mother? Doesn't Jesus command us to love one another?

So what is Jesus saying?

He is not asking us to love our families less.

He is asking us to love Him first.

Because when Christ is first, we become better husbands, better wives, better parents, better grandparents, and better friends.

When God occupies the center of our lives, everything else falls into its proper place.

There is a story told about a young husband and father who worked long hours to provide for his family.

He loved his wife and children deeply. He rarely missed a soccer game, attended every school event, and worked tirelessly to give them a good life.

One evening his young daughter asked him, "Daddy, why don't you come to church with us anymore?"

He replied, "Honey, I'm working hard for all of you. Everything I do is for this family."

His daughter quietly answered, "Dad, I know you love us. But Mom says God gave us you to help us get to heaven."

Those words pierced his heart.

He realized that in trying to provide everything for his family, he had neglected the One who had given him his family in the first place.

He had made a good thing—his family—into the ultimate thing.

And only God can be ultimate.

Years later, that man would say that returning to Christ and returning to Mass was the greatest gift he ever gave his family.

My brothers and sisters, that story reminds us that our greatest responsibility is not simply to make a living, but to help one another reach eternal life.

And that is exactly what Jesus is teaching us today.

Jesus says:

"Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me."

Notice that Jesus does not say if a cross comes.

He says take up your cross.

Every disciple has one.

For some, it is illness.

For others, it is loneliness.

For some, it is caring for an aging spouse or parent.

For others, it is financial stress, family conflict, addiction, or grief.

The Christian life has never been about avoiding crosses.

It has always been about carrying them with Jesus.

Because a cross carried with Christ becomes the path to resurrection.

But if we're honest, many of us spend our lives trying to avoid crosses rather than embrace them.

And Jesus addresses that tendency directly.

Jesus says:

"Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

The world tells us:

"Look out for yourself."

"Make yourself happy."

"Do whatever feels good."

"Live for yourself."

Jesus says something radically different:

"Give yourself away."

True joy is not found in self-preservation.

It is found in self-giving.

Ask any loving parent or grandparent.

The greatest moments in life are often the sacrifices we make for those we love.

The sleepless nights with a newborn.

The years spent caring for an aging parent.

The sacrifices made for children and grandchildren.

Love always costs something.

And the deeper the love, the greater the sacrifice.

Jesus Himself proved that on Calvary.

Men, fathers, grandfathers, husbands—this Gospel speaks directly to you.

The world often tells men that success is measured by money, status, or achievements.

But Christ measures greatness differently.

Great men are men who sacrifice.

Great fathers lead their families to God.

Great husbands love their wives as Christ loves the Church.

Your children will probably forget many of the gifts you bought them.

But they will never forget seeing you pray.

They will never forget seeing you kneel at Mass.

They will never forget seeing you ask forgiveness when you were wrong.

They will never forget your example.

One of the greatest gifts a man can give his family is his faith.

And women, mothers, and grandmothers have an extraordinary role as well.

Many women are the spiritual heart of their families.

You pray.

You encourage.

You sacrifice.

You worry.

You carry children and grandchildren in your hearts every day.

Never underestimate the power of your witness.

Think of St. Monica, whose persistent prayers helped bring about the conversion of her son Augustine.

Many of you are praying for children who no longer practice the faith.

Do not give up.

Keep praying.

Keep loving.

Keep trusting.

God hears every prayer.

The Gospel concludes with what seems like a very small gesture.

Jesus says:

"Whoever gives only a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is a disciple... will surely not lose his reward."

What a beautiful promise.

Jesus notices everything.

No act of love is too small.

A phone call.

A kind word.

A meal brought to someone who is sick.

A visit to the lonely.

A prayer offered quietly for another.

A grandparent teaching a child the Sign of the Cross.

These small acts may seem insignificant.

But in God's Kingdom, small acts done with great love change the world.

My brothers and sisters, today's Gospel invites us to ask three important questions:

Is Christ truly first in my life?

What cross is Jesus asking me to carry with Him?

How can I show Christ's love through small acts of kindness this week?

When we place Jesus first, everything else begins to make sense.

Our families become stronger.

Our sacrifices gain meaning.

Our crosses become bearable.

And our lives become a witness to the world.

May we have the courage this week to choose Christ above all else, to carry our crosses faithfully, and to love generously.

For whoever loses his life for Christ will discover the life he has always been searching for.

Amen.

The Wheat, the Weeds, and the Patient Heart of God (16th Sunday Ordinary Time Year A)

 

My brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today's Gospel from Matthew chapter 13 is one of the most realistic and hopeful teachings Jesus ever gives us.

In just a few short parables, Jesus speaks about good and evil, patience, judgment, faith, and the mysterious way God works in our lives.

He tells us about wheat and weeds growing together in the same field, about a tiny mustard seed that becomes a great tree, and about yeast that quietly transforms an entire batch of dough.

At first, these parables may seem unrelated. But together they reveal a powerful truth: God is always at work, even when we cannot see it.

And that is good news, because many of us come here today carrying burdens, disappointments, worries, and questions.

"Lord, where are You in all of this?"

Today's Gospel answers that question.

Jesus begins by telling us about a farmer who sows good seed in his field. But while everyone is asleep, an enemy comes and sows weeds among the wheat.

When the servants discover the weeds, they are shocked.

"Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from?"

If we're honest, that question sounds very familiar.

"Lord, if You are good, why is there suffering?"

"Why are there divisions in families?"

"Why do good people get sick?"

"Why are there wars, addictions, and broken relationships?"

"Why do I still struggle with the same sins after all these years?"

Jesus answers simply:

"An enemy has done this."

Evil is real. Sin is real. Satan is real.

Jesus never pretends otherwise.

But then something surprising happens.

The servants immediately want to fix the problem.

"Do you want us to pull up the weeds?"

The Master says:

"No, because in pulling up the weeds you may uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest."

And that response may leave us uncomfortable because, if we're honest, most of us prefer immediate solutions.

We want God to act now. We want problems solved today. We want difficult people changed tomorrow.

Yet Jesus reminds us that God's timetable is often different from ours.

And perhaps nowhere is that lesson clearer than in the following story.

Several years ago, a man inherited his father's ranch. His father had lovingly cared for the property for decades, planting trees, flowers, and native plants throughout the land.

The son wanted to honor his father's memory, so he took over caring for the property himself.

One spring he noticed patches of scraggly plants scattered throughout the fields. They looked ugly and out of place.

Determined to clean everything up, he spent an entire weekend pulling them out.

A few months later an elderly neighbor stopped by.

"How's the ranch doing?" he asked.

"Proudly," the son replied, "I finally got rid of all those weeds Dad left behind."

The old neighbor's face fell.

"Son," he said quietly, "those weren't weeds. Your father planted those wildflowers years ago. They bloom late in the summer."

The son had removed some of the most beautiful flowers on the ranch because he judged too quickly.

My brothers and sisters, isn't that often true in our own lives?

How often do we look at people—or even ourselves—and assume that God has finished His work?

How often do we write people off?

The rebellious teenager.

The struggling spouse.

The person battling addiction.

The family member who has drifted away from the Church.

The person who hurt us years ago.

The truth is that God sees what we cannot see.

We see the present.

God sees the future.

We see weakness.

God sees possibility.

We see failure.

God sees redemption.

Think of St. Augustine. For years he lived far from God. Many probably thought he was hopeless.

But through the persistent prayers of his mother, St. Monica, God's grace transformed him into one of the greatest saints in the history of the Church.

God specializes in late bloomers.

 

But before we become too focused on the weeds in other people's lives, today's Gospel gently invites us to look inward.

Because the field Jesus describes is not only the world.

It is also our own hearts.

If we are honest, each one of us is both wheat and weeds.

There is goodness within us because we are created in God's image.

But there are weeds too.

Pride.

Resentment.

Fear.

Impatience.

Anger.

Jealousy.

Old wounds.

Unforgiveness.

Perhaps some of us came to Mass today discouraged because we continue struggling with the same weaknesses.

We may wonder:

"Lord, why haven't You taken this away?"

Perhaps because God is less interested in quick fixes and more interested in transformation.

God is patient.

He works slowly.

He shapes saints over years, sometimes decades.

And that patience of God is especially important for many men to hear today.

Men, fathers, grandfathers, husbands—many of you carry burdens silently.

You may look back over your life and think:

"I should have been a better husband."

"I wish I had spent more time with my children."

"I've made too many mistakes."

Today's Gospel offers hope.

God has not given up on you.

As long as you are breathing, God is still cultivating your heart.

The enemy whispers:

"You're finished."

Jesus says:

"I'm not finished with you yet."

And many women carry a different, but equally heavy burden.

Mothers, grandmothers, wives, daughters—you often carry families in prayer.

Many of you pray every day for children who no longer practice the faith, for struggling marriages, or for loved ones who seem far from God.

Do not lose heart.

Remember St. Monica.

For seventeen years she prayed and wept for Augustine.

God heard every prayer.

Keep praying.

Keep loving.

Keep trusting.

God is still working beneath the surface.

And that brings us beautifully to the next two parables Jesus gives us.

Because after speaking about patience, Jesus now speaks about growth.

Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed—the smallest of seeds that eventually becomes a great tree.

He says it is also like yeast, hidden in flour, quietly transforming everything from within.

In other words, God's work is often hidden.

Most spiritual growth happens quietly.

A daily Rosary.

A visit to the Blessed Sacrament.

A sincere confession.

A father blessing his children before bed.

A grandmother teaching her grandchildren to pray.

A simple act of kindness.

Small acts of faith, repeated over time, change lives.

The saints changed the world not through spectacular moments, but through daily fidelity.

So where does all of this leave us?

It leaves us with a choice.

Will we trust the Divine Farmer?

Will we trust that God is still at work—even in situations that seem hopeless?

My brothers and sisters, today's Gospel teaches us three important truths:

First, evil is real, but God remains in control.

Second, God is patient with us and asks us to be patient with others.

And third, even the smallest act of faith can bear extraordinary fruit.

This week, instead of focusing on the weeds in others, let us invite Jesus to tend the soil of our own hearts.

And let us remember:

The Divine Farmer never abandons His field.

He is still working.

He is still planting.

He is still healing.

And He is certainly not finished with any of us yet.