The Harvest

Lord let all that I say this day, let all that I do this day bring glory and honor to you Father – Amen!

The parable we heard in our Gospel reading today about the sower has two messages – the first and more obvious one is to those of us who hear the Word of God and how we respond to it.

There are different ways of accepting the Word of God, and the fruit which it produces depends on the hearts of those who hear it – and good and lasting fruit can only be produced by those who accept the Word of God into their hearts.

The impact of any spoken word – the fruit it may or may not produce – depends on the disposition of those who hear it … it depends on how open we are, how willing we might be to learn – how willing we might be to be challenged – how willing we might be to change …

There are those with shut minds and hardened their hearts – and no matter what someone says – even if it is the Word made flesh – the Son of God or the Church speaking authoritatively or some deacon – that word they speak has no more chance of gaining entry into that person’s heart than the seed that is sown on a path of ground that has been packed down – that is hard – from so many people walking on it.

What causes people to shut their minds to hardened their hearts – pride, prejudice and fear. Sometimes an immoral character and a particular way of life can also shut a person’s mind to the truth – truth which condemns the things that an individual loves and which accuses the things that he or she does; and many such people refuse to listen to or to recognize the truth which condemns their very actions, for there are none so blind as those who deliberately will not see.

There are hearers of the Word of God with minds like the shallow ground. These are the people who fail to think things out and think things through. These are the people that are at the mercy of every new craze, that worry too much about the latest fashion – they drop new things as quickly as they pick them up for the next new thing fad that comes along …

There are those hearers of the Word of God that have so many interests in life that often the most important things get crowded out … our modern lives are so busy - so fast - that we don’t have the time or the energy to pray, we don’t have the time or the energy to study the Word of God – to internalize it – to sit with it and to allow it to become part of us – or we can become so involved so busy in committees and good works and charitable services that we leave ourselves no time for Him from whom all love and service come. Our work can take such a hold of us that we are too tired to think of anything else – perhaps for some of us our work is an excuse to avoid those things we know we should do, those thing we know we need to do.

You see my brother and sisters it is not always or just the things that are obviously bad that are always dangerous – it is the things which are good too that can be dangerous, for the “second best is always the worse enemy of the best” – it isn’t that we deliberately set aside daily prayer, it isn’t that we deliberately set aside the bible, the rosary or even Mass from our lives; it can be that we often think of these things and intend to make time for them, but somehow in our crowded and busy lives we just never get round to them. We must be careful that Christ isn’t pushed into the sidelines of our lives.

Then there are those people who are like the good ground – they hear the Word and like the good ground their minds are open and receptive; they are willing to learn. They come prepared to hear the Word and are never too busy, too distracted or too proud to listen. Such people can understand and accept the Word; and such people can turn it into action in their lives and produce good fruit – not only in themselves but in others.

The real hearers of the Word of God are those who listen, who understand and who obey.

I said that the parable in our Gospel today has two messages – the first is to the hearers of the Word – well the second is to the preachers of the Word.

I can’t speak for all preachers – because I don’t know all of them – but I know my heart and when it comes to preaching – I struggle with it – it doesn’t come easy to me – I have feelings that I’m not qualified to preach – I have feelings that people don’t really care what I have to say – I am often disappointed and discouraged with my apparent lack of success.

But the Gospel message today to me and to every preacher is very clear – the harvest is certain – some of my words and my efforts may be like the seed that falls by the wayside and is snatched away by the birds; some of my words and my efforts may fall on shallow ground and never come to maturity; some of my words and my efforts may fall among thorns and be choked to death; but in spite of all that – I know that the harvest will come.

No farmer expects every single seed sown to germinate and bring forth fruit – but that doesn’t stop them from sowing – nor does it make them give up hope of the harvest – they sow with confidence – they sow with faith – that even if some seed is wasted – even if some seed is lost – the harvest will certainly come.

When I preach – I don’t know what affect it is having – but I preach with confidence and faith in the One who called me … for the harvest is certain. And the Lord has been good to me – for when I get discourage the Lord always sends someone to reassure me that my efforts aren’t in vain. And the message God has for me and any preacher who may doubt themselves is that God didn’t call the qualified – we can certainly see that in His disciples – I see that in myself – but God qualifies those he has called – for His harvest is sure.

There are two messages today – one for those who hear the Word and one for those who preach it – but each of us are all called to bear fruit – and to say that another way – perhaps a more contemporary translation of that might be – we are called to “get a life”. A “life” not defined as the world defines it – but one as defined by the Word made Flesh.

We make a living from what we receive – but we make a LIFE from what we give – and in the end it’s not the number of years in your life that counts – but it is the life in your years that matters.

Each one of us have been called to bear fruit – each one of us can make a lasting difference – an impression on another’s life – let every word you speak today, let every thought you think and every action you take – bring Glory and Honor to Him – the eternal Word – for His harvest is sure. Amen!





Real life example:


He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. [He was] very neat in appearance but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischieviousness delightful.

Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving: "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!"

It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, "Thank you for correcting me, Sister."

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the "new math," he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves — and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend."

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that meant anything to anyone!" "I didn't know others liked me so much!" No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip — the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?"

My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The Eklunds called last night," he began.

"Really?" I said. "I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is."

Dad responded quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me. The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it."

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him.

"Thank you so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark treasured it."

Mark's classmates started to gather around us.

Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home."

Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album."

"I have mine too," Marilyn said. "It's in my diary."

Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said, without batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists."

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

By: Sister Helen P. Mrosla
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The purpose of this letter, is to encourage everyone to compliment the people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the importance of showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of things could mean the most to another. I am asking you to please send this letter around and spread the message and encouragement, to express your love and caring by complimenting and being open with communication. The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be. So please, I beg of you, to tell the people you love and care for, that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

I leave these messages with you and ask you to continue to spread the message to everyone you know.