July 12 — Mt 13:1-23
Our Gospel this Sunday contains Matthew’s classic parable of the sower and the seeds scattered on different types of soil. Sandwiched in the middle, between the parable itself and the interpretation given by Our Lord, is a fascinating little dialogue that begins with the question given to Jesus: Why do you speak to them in parables?
It’s a worthy question. Since most homilies this Sunday will likely treat the seeds and the soil, and since I’ve already written a Catholic Herald commentary on that portion of the passage, I propose to treat the middle portion. Why does the Lord teach in parables?
In a way, the question is similar to the old joke about a master rabbi and his student. The student asks: “Rabbi, why do rabbis always answer a question with another question?” To which the rabbi responds: “Why wouldn’t a rabbi answer a question with another question?” Jesus’ answer about parables is almost as enigmatic as a parable itself. “Because knowledge of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven has been granted to you, but to them it has not been granted.” What, precisely does that mean?
The Lord teaches in parables to make the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven manifest, but only in such a way that it is visible to those with the correct disposition of mind and heart. The parables are fundamentally little stories, small vignettes that invite the hearer or reader to step outside of themselves and into another world. The word itself comes from the Greek “parabole,” which means “something thrown alongside” such as a lifeline or railing, like how an analogy functions like a handrail to help our mind get up a set of intellectual stairs. Parables help pull us outside of ourselves to see the world in a new light.
The first thing to note, though, is that parables only work if the hearer is willing to dive in and put themselves in the midst of the story. It is fully possible to listen to a parable and to dismiss it as a short and nice story with a morally snappy ending. Or it is possible to simply tune them out altogether as nonsense. To such hearers, a parable would fall on their ears like seed scattered on a path or on rocky ground. It gets snatched away by a thousand distracting, fluttering birds of our to-do list or never takes root. Parables demand a posture of faith to be understood and received. As such, they function like grace.
However, if one does take the leap of faith and enter the story, it immediately begins to take root in our imagination. Suddenly, as we picture ourselves in the midst of the situation, a whole new world of understanding springs in to life. Here is part of the point of a parable: It contains infinitely more information for the hearer than a simple statement of fact. It even contains a different sort of information than could ever be expressed by a dry explanation. Parables invite us to consider things: knowledge of persons, or experiences, or perceptions of colors or situations, or other non-propositional knowledge that cannot easily be put into words.
The more we patiently ponder a parable and its details, the more it grows in our mind and bears fruit beyond what any simple definition or PowerPoint presentation can do. If a hearer is willing to allow the parable to throw down roots and guards it from the thorns and thistles of our daily anxieties and distractions, we are duly rewarded. Every seed bears a plant miraculously greater than its humble beginning. The parable similarly bears wisdom.
At their best, stories can even help us know persons. Most of us have heard someone tell us enough stories about another friend unknown to us that we come to start to know them ourselves. Eleonore Stump, one of my favorite authors, has written extensively to show that stories give us “second person” knowledge. They bring us into relationship with someone else through the story in real way, beyond merely factual knowledge.
Unsurprisingly, therefore, spiritual master Father Simeon, O.C.S.O., also writes that parables “reveal the face of God.” What do parables do? They create a story that invites us (like grace) deeper into a living relationship with God, where we can see him face to face.
Thus, Jesus speaks in parables — because in them, by grace, we are invited into a new world of communion with the Father, if only we have the posture of faith to receive those riches. To those with that faith to enter: “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” (Mt 13:12). God grant us the disposition to enter in.
Fr. Miserendino is chaplain at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg.
Why Jesus uses parables
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Chalice, Bible and altar cross.
July 12 — Mt 13:1-23
Our Gospel this Sunday contains Matthew’s classic parable of the sower and the seeds scattered on different types of soil. Sandwiched in the middle, between the parable itself and the interpretation given by Our Lord, is a fascinating little dialogue that begins with the question given to Jesus: Why do you speak to them in parables?
It’s a worthy question. Since most homilies this Sunday will likely treat the seeds and the soil, and since I’ve already written a Catholic Herald commentary on that portion of the passage, I propose to treat the middle portion. Why does the Lord teach in parables?
In a way, the question is similar to the old joke about a master rabbi and his student. The student asks: “Rabbi, why do rabbis always answer a question with another question?” To which the rabbi responds: “Why wouldn’t a rabbi answer a question with another question?” Jesus’ answer about parables is almost as enigmatic as a parable itself. “Because knowledge of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven has been granted to you, but to them it has not been granted.” What, precisely does that mean?
The Lord teaches in parables to make the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven manifest, but only in such a way that it is visible to those with the correct disposition of mind and heart. The parables are fundamentally little stories, small vignettes that invite the hearer or reader to step outside of themselves and into another world. The word itself comes from the Greek “parabole,” which means “something thrown alongside” such as a lifeline or railing, like how an analogy functions like a handrail to help our mind get up a set of intellectual stairs. Parables help pull us outside of ourselves to see the world in a new light.
The first thing to note, though, is that parables only work if the hearer is willing to dive in and put themselves in the midst of the story. It is fully possible to listen to a parable and to dismiss it as a short and nice story with a morally snappy ending. Or it is possible to simply tune them out altogether as nonsense. To such hearers, a parable would fall on their ears like seed scattered on a path or on rocky ground. It gets snatched away by a thousand distracting, fluttering birds of our to-do list or never takes root. Parables demand a posture of faith to be understood and received. As such, they function like grace.
However, if one does take the leap of faith and enter the story, it immediately begins to take root in our imagination. Suddenly, as we picture ourselves in the midst of the situation, a whole new world of understanding springs in to life. Here is part of the point of a parable: It contains infinitely more information for the hearer than a simple statement of fact. It even contains a different sort of information than could ever be expressed by a dry explanation. Parables invite us to consider things: knowledge of persons, or experiences, or perceptions of colors or situations, or other non-propositional knowledge that cannot easily be put into words.
The more we patiently ponder a parable and its details, the more it grows in our mind and bears fruit beyond what any simple definition or PowerPoint presentation can do. If a hearer is willing to allow the parable to throw down roots and guards it from the thorns and thistles of our daily anxieties and distractions, we are duly rewarded. Every seed bears a plant miraculously greater than its humble beginning. The parable similarly bears wisdom.
At their best, stories can even help us know persons. Most of us have heard someone tell us enough stories about another friend unknown to us that we come to start to know them ourselves. Eleonore Stump, one of my favorite authors, has written extensively to show that stories give us “second person” knowledge. They bring us into relationship with someone else through the story in real way, beyond merely factual knowledge.
Unsurprisingly, therefore, spiritual master Father Simeon, O.C.S.O., also writes that parables “reveal the face of God.” What do parables do? They create a story that invites us (like grace) deeper into a living relationship with God, where we can see him face to face.
Thus, Jesus speaks in parables — because in them, by grace, we are invited into a new world of communion with the Father, if only we have the posture of faith to receive those riches. To those with that faith to enter: “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” (Mt 13:12). God grant us the disposition to enter in.
Fr. Miserendino is chaplain at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg.
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