Start with the Word

Before you dive into this reflection, you might want to spend a few quiet minutes with these passages:

• Parable of the Sower: Matthew 13:1–9, 18–23
• The hemorrhaging woman: Mark 5:25–34 (also Matthew 9:20–22; Luke 8:43–48)
• The centurion and his servant: Matthew 8:5–13 (also Luke 7:1–10)

Let them sink in. Notice what stirs, comforts, or challenges you. Then come back and we’ll walk through them together.

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Good soil looks like real people

In the parable of the sower, Jesus tells this simple, earthy story about a farmer, some seed, and four kinds of ground—hard path, rocky soil, thorny soil, and good soil. Only one of them lets the seed really sink in and produce a harvest.

At Mass, Father Kwame put it plainly: “The soil is our hearts. The seed is Jesus, coming to us in the Word.” Every time the gospel is proclaimed, the Lord is sowing himself into our lives—into your life. And if that seed finds good soil, it doesn’t just sit there. It grows. It produces the fruits of the Holy Spirit that other people can actually see and taste.

What I love is that Jesus doesn’t leave this at the level of theory. In the hemorrhaging woman and the centurion, we get to see what “good soil” looks like with a face and a name (or in her case, a story, even if we never learn her name). Both of them have every reason to shut down. Both of them, in their own way, open their hearts and give Jesus permission to take root.

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The hemorrhaging woman: when love, joy, and peace break through

Think of the hemorrhaging woman. Twelve years of suffering. Twelve years of doctors and disappointment. Twelve years of being considered “unclean,” kept at arm’s length from worship and community. If anyone’s heart could have turned into hard-packed path or thorn-choked ground, it’s hers.

But what does she do? She pushes through the crowd, quietly, almost secretly, and reaches out for Jesus, believing that just touching his cloak is enough. That’s good soil right there—not because she feels strong, but because she refuses to let shame, fear, or exhaustion have the last word. She lets faith crack the surface of the soil.

When Jesus turns and calls her “Daughter,” when he says, “Your faith has made you well. Go in peace,” something beautiful shows up above the surface. Love appears in her willingness to step forward and tell her story. Joy begins to replace the long years of humiliation. Peace settles over her future because she’s heard the Lord’s verdict on her life. These are the fruits of the Holy Spirit in real time—signs that Jesus’ word has taken root in the deepest, most wounded places of her heart.

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The centurion: generosity, courage, and deep trust

Now look at the centurion. He’s a Roman officer, a man with rank and power. He could have stayed in his own world and handled things his own way. Instead, he crosses religious and cultural lines and comes to Jesus on behalf of a suffering servant. That’s already a hint of generosity: his heart is moved for someone who, in that culture, was easy to overlook.

Then comes that line we know so well from Mass: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.” It’s humble, yes, but it’s also brave. He’s basically staking his reputation—and his servant’s life—on the power of Jesus’ word alone. He’s saying, “I know how authority works; I believe your authority is that strong. You don’t even have to come to my house. Just speak.”[en.wikipedia][youtube]

That is rocky ground turning into good soil. Instead of letting fear or pride scorch the seed, he lets faith sink down into how he understands the world. He trusts that Jesus’ word carries more weight than his own rank, more power than distance, more hope than his own ability to control things.

And again, look at the fruit. His servant is healed. But beyond that, his faith becomes a sign for everyone watching—Jesus even says he hasn’t found such faith in Israel. The centurion’s trust, his generosity toward his servant, his courage in approaching Jesus, are all fruits growing from the seed of the Word planted in good, humble soil.[youtube]

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What happens when we let God take root

Father Kwame said it clearly: when Jesus’ word finds a home in us, it should produce fruits—love, joy, peace, generosity, courage, and more. These aren’t just nice words on a confirmation banner. They’re the “harvest” that shows what kind of soil we really are.

We see it in these two:

• In the woman, love looks like drawing near to God instead of hiding, even when she’s afraid. Joy and peace flow from hearing Jesus speak directly into her shame and suffering.
• In the centurion, generosity looks like using his position to care for someone vulnerable. Courage looks like trusting Jesus’ word more than his own plans or expectations.[catholicsstrivingforholiness][youtube]

If we let Jesus take root in our own hearts—if we stop treating his word as background noise and start giving it space and time—those same fruits begin to grow in us. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But really.

Love might look like choosing patience instead of sarcasm with a family member. Joy might look like a quiet gratitude in the middle of a hard day. Peace might look like a refusal to spiral into anxiety when the news is bad or the bills are high. Generosity might mean giving our time, attention, or talent where it costs us something. Courage might look like admitting our weakness and asking for help—whether from God or from others.[lovedweller]

That’s what happens when we stop guarding the soil and start letting the Gardener work.

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Letting someone “taste the pudding”

Father Kwame gave us a great image: “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.” You can’t tell if a pudding is any good by staring at it on the table. You have to taste it. In the same way, people can’t really tell if we have deep faith just by seeing us at Mass once a week. They learn it when they live with us, work with us, bump into us on our worst days and our tired mornings.

As you move into tonight’s examen, try sitting with this simple, honest question:

If someone close to me—my spouse, my kids, a coworker, a friend—were to “taste my pudding” this week, what would they find? Would they taste love, joy, peace, generosity, courage—the fruits that grow when Jesus’ word really has space in my heart? Or would they run into impatience, harsh words, constant worry, resentment, or indifference?[gcdiscipleship]

Don’t answer that to beat yourself up. Answer it to let the Lord show you where the soil is good, and where it needs tilling. Then, like the hemorrhaging woman and the centurion, you can bring that soil to Him and simply say:

“Lord, I am not worthy… but only say the word.”

And trust that His word can take root and grow, right there, in the very real ground of your life.