Wednesday in the Fourth Week of Ordinary Time, January 28, 2026

Mark 4, 1-20

On another occasion, Jesus began to teach by the sea. A very large crowd gathered around him so that he got into a boat on the sea and sat down. And the whole crowd was beside the sea on land. And he taught them at length in parables, and in the course of his instruction he said to them, “Hear this! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Other seed fell on rocky ground where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep. And when the sun rose, it was scorched and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it and it produced no grain. And some seed fell on rich soil and produced fruit. It came up and grew and yielded thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold.” He added, “Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear.”  And when he was alone, those present along with the Twelve questioned him about the parables. He answered them, “The mystery of the Kingdom of God has been granted to you. But to those outside everything comes in parables, so that  they may look and see but not perceive, and hear and listen but not understand, in order that they may not be converted and be forgiven.”  Jesus said to them, “Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand any of the parables? The sower sows the word. These are the ones on the path where the word is sown. As soon as they hear, Satan comes at once and takes away the word sown in them. And these are the ones sown on rocky ground who, when they hear the word, receive it at once with joy. But they have no roots; they last only for a time. Then when tribulation or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. Those sown among thorns are another sort. They are the people who hear the word, but worldly anxiety, the lure of riches, and the craving for other things intrude and choke the word, and it bears no fruit. But those sown on rich soil are the ones who hear the word and accept it and bear fruit thirty and sixty and a hundredfold.”

Jesus teaches by the sea, seated in a boat, with the crowd standing on the shore. The image itself already tells us something important: the word of God is being spoken into a mixed and shifting human landscape. Some are close, some farther away; some attentive, some merely curious. And Jesus does not begin with commands or explanations. He begins with a story about seed, soil, and growth.

The parable of the sower is not, at heart, about farming. It is about hearing. Jesus makes this explicit when he says, “Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear.” The real question is not whether the seed is good — it always is. The question is what happens to the word once it reaches the human heart.

The first seed falls on the path. The soil is hard, compacted by traffic. Nothing penetrates. The birds carry the seed away almost immediately. Jesus explains this plainly: the word is heard, but before it can even begin to take root, it is taken away. There is no struggle here, no resistance, no drama. The word simply does not linger long enough to be tested. This is perhaps the most sobering soil of all, because nothing seems wrong. The person has “heard,” but not in a way that allows the word to enter.

The second seed falls on rocky ground. There is enough soil for a quick response, but not enough depth for endurance. It springs up immediately, with joy. This is the hearer who is genuinely moved, genuinely excited, perhaps even deeply touched. But when heat comes — when difficulty, opposition, or suffering arises—the lack of roots becomes clear. The word had been received emotionally, but not integrated. It had not gone down far enough to shape decisions, habits, and loyalties. Joy alone is not the same as depth.

The third seed falls among thorns. This soil receives the word and allows it to grow, but it is already crowded. Other growths are present — worldly anxiety, the lure of riches, the craving for other things. Notice that none of these are described as evil in themselves. Anxiety arises from real concerns. Riches promise security. Other things may even be good things. But together they crowd the interior space of the heart until the word is choked. Nothing dramatic happens here either. The plant simply never bears fruit. Life is too full for the word to mature.

Only the final soil bears fruit: the rich soil. And Jesus is careful in how he describes it. These are the ones who hear the word, accept it, and bear fruit. Hearing is not enough. Acceptance is not mere agreement. It is a receiving that allows the word to claim space, to set roots, to remain when tested. Fruitfulness is the sign that the word has truly been welcomed. And even here, the yield varies—thirty, sixty, a hundredfold. Fruitfulness is real, but not uniform. God does not measure success by comparison, but by life.

What is striking is that Jesus does not tell us to identify which soil we are. He invites us to become rich soil. Soil can change. Paths can be broken up. Rocks can be cleared. Thorns can be pulled out. But this requires patience, humility, and willingness to be worked upon. The parable assumes time, effort, and cooperation.

When the disciples later ask Jesus why he speaks in parables, his answer is unsettling. Not everyone is ready to understand. Some look but do not perceive; some hear but do not understand. This is not because God withholds grace, but because conversion requires readiness. Parables both reveal and conceal. They invite those who are willing to linger, to question, to stay with the word even when it is unclear.

Jesus ends by saying that this parable is foundational: “If you do not understand this parable, how will you understand any of the parables?” In other words, everything depends on how we hear. The Kingdom of God does not fail because the seed is weak. It bears fruit where it is received deeply, patiently, and wholeheartedly.

Each time this Gospel is proclaimed, the sower goes out again. The seed is scattered generously. The question is not whether God is speaking. The question is whether we are making room for the word to stay, to grow, and to change us—slowly, deeply, and fruitfully.