When Seeds Meet Soil

Text: John 12:20-33

During my military service in Korea, I expected to march, fire guns, polish boots. I did not expect to become a gardener. And it wasn’t my choice. I was forced to become a gardener. I’m not kidding, because gardening was one of my duties during my military service in Korea. My Sergeant ordered me to manage a greenhouse, and I had never done it before. First, I collected seeds from flowers according to their colours: red, white, pink, and yellow – as many colours as I could find. And then, I planted the flower seeds in a garden bed. I was glad to be in charge of an honorable job – planting the seeds - and I was afraid of failing. My terrifying army officer threatened me by saying, “if the flower sees don’t spout, I will plant you in a garden, head first.” I was scared, because he was my commanding officer, and I had already seen his powerful Taekwondo skills! So, I did my best, feeding the seeds with water, sunshine, wind, and most of all, with love. Even in church, I prayed for them every night. I really took care of them with my whole heart. Gardening became my everyday activity in the military, and the seeds became my children. At first, I didn’t see any indication of growth. I was wondering what’s going on under the soil. I began to worry if I was providing proper care for the seeds. At last, despite my doubt, the tender green shoot rose above the ground just like that. Hallelujah! I praised the Lord. Then, I raised various kinds of flowers and planted them in every corner of the huge military base. I was so happy because my flowers made the place beautiful, like an oasis in a desert. I learned the power of life. I didn’t need to worry; just because I couldn’t see inside of the dark soil, didn’t mean nothing was happening. When seeds meat soil, the mystery of life itself starts to work. Can we put our trust in the mystery of life despite our inability to see it?

That’s the question the disciples had to wrestle with upon the foreseeable suffering and death of their beloved teacher. Jesus said, “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls in the earth and dies, it remains just single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:23, 24)

I like how Jesus used one of the most common things from creation to describe one of the most difficult subjects, death and dying. His disciples probably had seen grains of wheat countless times before but couldn’t make that connection. Jesus almost always used, in his teaching, the images his audience already knew well: salt, light, water, fish, bread, and wine. A particular image becomes a doorway to the truth, to the universe. Those particular images Jesus used are not necessarily meaningful by themselves, when they stand alone. They become meaningful when we understand them in their relation to something else. It’s not just that food needs salt, but salt needs food in order to impart its saltiness. It’s not just we need bread, but bread needs us to become the nourishment our bodies need. In the same way, a grain of wheat needs the earth so the seed can bear much fruit. So, what Jesus is really saying here is that a death is not ending but a new beginning. What must die is our unwillingness to die. For, there is only continuation or transformation as long as the grain falls into the earth, as long as the life falls into its community. 

We become afraid of dying or death when we become disconnected from our community. I remember the face of a dying person who was in complete peace and calmness. Her name was Agnes, and she led a long and good life. but it wasn’t the quantity but the quality of life that gave Agnes a sense of fulfillment. Her face was literally shining, making her room bright. I went to provide pastoral care only to realize it was I who needed Agnes’ presence and wisdom. I read John 15 to Agnes, where Jesus says, “I am the vine, and you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit.” And she said to me, “I believe that, and I have lived it my whole life.” Agnes was connected to her God and her community to the very last minute. Agnes was physically gone, but she remains much alive in the hearts and lives of those who remember her.

One of the things we can learn from the Covid-19 pandemic is that no one can live as an island. I can only imagine those who have been lockdown or those who live alone during these times. All of us are like grains of wheat, and we all need the soil of our community. We are not meant to remain as single grains. We are meant to fall into the earth so we can bear much fruit. I’d like to think this time of social distancing as the necessary time of preparation before returning to the soil. 

Back in Korea, in my army days, I remember collecting all the seeds from the flowers. I kept the seeds safe in separate envelopes according to their colours until their garden bed was ready to receive them. The resting period was necessary for the seeds in order to regenerate, and eventually to make the entire community beautiful.

We are like the seeds waiting to meet the soil. This time of resting is essential before safely returning to the earth, our community. Though we can’t see the whole picture, we can trust that the Spirit is still working in and through each of us mysteriously. The church is very much alive because our faith is alive. We have been keeping our hearts and minds open. We have been lifting up each other and others in prayers. We have expressed our love and care in many new ways. Regeneration is the work of the Spirit. We can and will always participate in it because of the One who fell into us and bore much fruit through us.