Wednesday in the Second Week of Lent

Cross for Lent 2012
The parable of the sower is one Sunday school story I vividly remember. I grew up in a place where rural landscapes were readily accessible, and my youthful imagination could easily visualize the margins of a field where rows of crops give way to patches of weeds and brambles, strips of roadside gravel and finally, asphalt. This parable still conjures specific visual memories for me.

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Cross for Lent 2012Genesis 41:18-28
Psalm 72
1 Cor 5:6-6:8
Mark 4: 1-20

The parable of the sower is one Sunday school story I vividly remember. I grew up in a place where rural landscapes were readily accessible, and my youthful imagination could easily visualize the margins of a field where rows of crops give way to patches of weeds and brambles, strips of roadside gravel and finally, asphalt. This parable still conjures specific visual memories for me.

I still experience the same nagging question that made this bucolic scene unsettling for me as a child and I am sure for its original hearers; “Where has the seed known as me fallen?” It is a poignant thought, our lives equated with something as small and seemingly insignificant as a seed. And what chance does the poor seed stand that falls on the blacktop?

I think here Mark shows Jesus, the Teacher, at his finest, calling his students to wrestle within themselves with vivid, relatable imagery. I think we all struggle with the easy trap of deciding for ourselves where we have been planted. For us church-goers, the ground is undoubtedly dark and rich. Rather, we should ask what part of the field we find ourselves in today. Our ears and hearts must be open to hear our Savior’s voice, guiding us to witness to His love to all who are near to hear it. We know the richness of the promise of God’s kingdom, and that should not be something we can keep a secret.

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Parish News: April 26

In this week’s newsletter, Mother Liz celebrates Earth Month alongside Eastertide, noting how resurrection speaks not only to humanity but to “the groaning of the whole creation” and God’s determination to make all things new. She observes that when Mary Magdalene mistakes the risen Christ for a gardener, we glimpse the deep interconnection of all beings—and when we touch creation’s wounds with reverence and compassion, we meet God. Quoting Robin Wall Kimmerer, the rector reminds us that “when we work to heal the earth, the earth heals us,” and invites us to deepen our love and commitment to our fragile, beautiful planet.

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