We were traveling along the northern coastline with Beth's parents, showing off some of the beautiful mountainous scenery in the North and enjoying the surplus of greenery that we don't see much in 'the desert' when I saw one of the most moving sights of my life. The parable of the sower literally jumped off of the page and engraved a powerful image in my mind.
Our compact, rental car had just wound it's way past a group of people harvesting olives on the hillside when we reached something of a high road, with slight valleys to either side. The greenery was intermittently interrupted by patches of freshly turned dirt and someone had just commented on how many fields were filled with bright white rocks. To the right stood two men walking side by side down the middle of a fresh field. Across their right shoulders and hanging low on their left side rode a large sling filled with seeds. As they walked downhill they each would literally sling the seeds from left to right, across the area. We whizzed by before anyone thought to stop and take a picture, but in my mind some of those seeds fell on the path, some on rocky soil, some among weeds and thorns, and some on good soil. And hopefully, some were caught in the wind and produced a harvest in fertile soil that the farmers would never step foot on.
I suppose the picture froze in my mind that day because I felt like I was seeing the culture in which a beloved parable of mine had been told in - among people who planted in a much similar fashion. It made perfect sense to the original audience why some seed feel on the path, or rocky soil, or among weeds - that's what happens when you're all but scattering/throwing seeds everywhere. In my western mind, I'm afraid some of the poignancy of the story has been lost because my only context for farming or planting consisted of small patio planters or, at best, a small backyard garden - the kind where you map your garden before planting and everything is in a nice, neat little row. I've never planted seeds on a path, among rocks, or in a thorn bush. But now when I hear this parable, I'll no longer be thinking of the WWII victory gardens in "suburbia" but rather two North Africans walking alongside each other throwing seeds across a field as if it were an art form. And the visual of not just one sower but two, working toward a common goal, spreading seeds, and sharing the labor will be forever etched on my heart.
Our compact, rental car had just wound it's way past a group of people harvesting olives on the hillside when we reached something of a high road, with slight valleys to either side. The greenery was intermittently interrupted by patches of freshly turned dirt and someone had just commented on how many fields were filled with bright white rocks. To the right stood two men walking side by side down the middle of a fresh field. Across their right shoulders and hanging low on their left side rode a large sling filled with seeds. As they walked downhill they each would literally sling the seeds from left to right, across the area. We whizzed by before anyone thought to stop and take a picture, but in my mind some of those seeds fell on the path, some on rocky soil, some among weeds and thorns, and some on good soil. And hopefully, some were caught in the wind and produced a harvest in fertile soil that the farmers would never step foot on.
I suppose the picture froze in my mind that day because I felt like I was seeing the culture in which a beloved parable of mine had been told in - among people who planted in a much similar fashion. It made perfect sense to the original audience why some seed feel on the path, or rocky soil, or among weeds - that's what happens when you're all but scattering/throwing seeds everywhere. In my western mind, I'm afraid some of the poignancy of the story has been lost because my only context for farming or planting consisted of small patio planters or, at best, a small backyard garden - the kind where you map your garden before planting and everything is in a nice, neat little row. I've never planted seeds on a path, among rocks, or in a thorn bush. But now when I hear this parable, I'll no longer be thinking of the WWII victory gardens in "suburbia" but rather two North Africans walking alongside each other throwing seeds across a field as if it were an art form. And the visual of not just one sower but two, working toward a common goal, spreading seeds, and sharing the labor will be forever etched on my heart.
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| A few bends down the road later, we managed to get this picture of a man sowing seeds before hopping back on his tractor. The image is completely different but at least this gives you an idea of the setting. |
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