Sunday by Sunday over the past twelve years, I’ve walked past a memorial to one of my predecessors, Revd Reginald Evill; many Sundays I’ve wondered about his life and felt a bit sorry for him. You see, Revd Evill’s time here was framed by crises; he became Vicar of All Saints in 1918, the year that the Great War ended, and he left in 1939, the year the Second World War began. In the intervening years he served this parish through the austerity of the Great Depression, and the rise of political extremism, including the rise of Nazism in Germany.
I wonder if any of my successors will feel a similar spasm of pity for me! A few weeks after I came here in the summer of 2008, there was the global financial collapse which ushered in a decade of austerity; and I’d imagine that 2020 will be a year which sticks in our collective memory for generations to come, this year of separation, hardship and disease. It’s also the case that across those twelve years, just as in Revd Evill’s time, there’s been a resurgence in political extremism, especially on the far Right.
We’re living through turbulent times, and we’ve been doing so for over a decade now. What does the future hold? What’s going to happen next? There’s a great deal of uncertainty and fear even. We’re deeply aware of how unpredictable the future can be.
And in our own little community of faith here at All Saints we face an unpredictable and uncertain future: I’ve heard the Vicar’s leaving, what next?
From the moment that the Archangel Gabriel announces to Mary that she’s going to be a mother, through to the Resurrection itself, the message of the Gospel is consistent and clear, ‘Fear not’, ‘Do not be afraid.’ And in times of uncertainty, it’s especially important to hold that good news close to our hearts, and to proclaim it in our words and in our actions; that we stand against those who seek to spread fear, division, and the hatred that all too easily follows.
And this morning’s Gospel gives us a reason to take heart, to be of good courage, to fear not. One of the things I love about the parable of the sower, is the wild generosity with which the sower sows. This is no normal farmer, who carefully prepares the soil and then just as carefully sows the seed; this sower just chucks the seeds out everywhere, on the shallow soil and the rocky places, on the good soil and amongst the weeds.
In this parable we find the promise that God’s love is not shed only on the people and places and times when it looks like it has a good chance of taking root and growing, This is the promise that God’s love goes out to every place, goes out to every person, goes out to every moment in history. There is no calculation in the outpouring of God’s love, only generosity and amazing grace.
And you know, sometimes even the hard places can be fruitful. In one corner of the Vicarage garden there’s a lovely big fern; and I first found that beautiful fern growing in a bit of wall on the roof of the church. Who knows what gust had blown that tiny seed up there, or indeed what bird had dropped the seed, carefully packaged, down there – but that seed took root in hard stone, in a hard place, and it grew, and it grows still.
What happens next? What does the future hold? I don’t know. But I know that because of the parable of the sower, and what that parable tells us about the outrageous generosity of God, we need not be afraid, we can step forwards in hope. Our calling as Christians is not so much to be sowers of the seed – God is doing that, God is always doing that. Our calling is to see where those seeds of God’s hope, joy and love fall, and where we see those signs of God’s presence, wherever we see those signs of God’s presence, to celebrate them, to nurture them and to help them to grow.
I’ve seen those signs of hope and love many times over in Edmonton and I see them still; I pray that All Saints continues to be a place which helps those seeds to grow, and helps this community to flourish.
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