Reflections on Luke 8:5-8

“A Sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some fell by the wayside; and it was trampled down, and the birds of the air devoured it. Some fell on rock; and as soon as it sprang up, it withered away because it lacked moisture. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns sprang up with it and choked it. But others fell on good ground, sprang up, and yielded a crop a hundredfold.” When He had said these things He cried, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear” (Luke 8:5-8)

The Information Age and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race. The seeds of Wisdom struggle to take root in our hearts. We are flooded with facts, opinions, and endless deliberations. Data streams pouring in from every direction, drowning the living Word in a deluge of external influence, noise, and distraction. The currents pull us in different directions, each vying for our attention, shaping our thoughts, our desires, and even the course of our lives.

Though the information age promises connection and innovation, it often leaves our hearts barren and distracted. This flood of information is not making us wiser; knowledge is not the same as wisdom; in many of our experiences, the new age of information and media erodes what is real, drowning us in anxiety and emptiness rather than bringing us together. Like the thorns in the parable, it chokes what is living, replacing depth with distraction.

We mistake the seeds of anxiety for wisdom, watering them with our attention until they take root and fester. What this does is it obscures reality in such a way that not only is the image of God within us distorted, but by extension so is our identity as God’s children. This identity has a purpose, we all have a telos and that is God, and in and through Him do we slowly burn the dross, uproot the weeds, and stand firm atop the crashing waves of this world.

The identity we have and our connection with God is fundamentally one of communion. Man’s eternal vocation going back to the Garden is one of union with God which the cacophony of this brave new world seeks to undermine and lead us astray. The Church is the Ark that carries us through the storms and by participating in her mysteries we are, contrary to the information that comes to us through the television and social media piling up, effectively revealing who we are in Christ by God’s grace. The cosmic Gardner uproots the weeds growing in our hearts and by living sacramentally, following His commandments, we are watering the seeds of the Sower unveiling what is, and has always been, True.  

We may know more than our ancestors, but perhaps we hear less. Like the demon-possessed man of the Gadarenes, we carry a Legion—not of spirits, but of information—crowding our minds, darkening our sight, and drowning out the still, small voice within. The Apostle’s words exhort us to leave behind the darkness of the world and put down our dialogue with demons, that is, the flurry of information that distracts and inundates us: “This I say, therefore, and testify in the Lord, that you should no longer walk as the rest of the Gentiles walk, in the futility of their mind, having their understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God, because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart” (Eph. 4:17-19).

St. Gregory Palamas observes that those walking in the wisdom of the flesh have a darkened mind. It is not enough for one to know certain things by facts, diatribes, opinions; pontificating, sophistry, or abstract conceptualization but by experiencing the contemplative life in action.

This is wisdom.

Therefore, St. Gregory reminds us of the pitfalls of natural theology that professes knowledge of God is attainable by human reason and logic, outside of divine revelation:

St. Gregory warns that reliance on human reason alone darkens the mind and disorders the heart, reducing God to an intellectual construct and leaving one vulnerable to deception.[1]  

Furthermore, this demonic speculation St. Gregory examines is not simply a gross generalization of a community or people, but those of us allowing the seed planted by the Sower to be choked by thorns and fallen by the wayside, devoured by birds. St. Thalassios notes, “Our Lord Jesus Christ has given light to all men, but those who do not trust in Him bring darkness upon themselves.”[2]  

We live in an age where knowledge is at the tip of our fingers, always: We can know anything and we can conjure up any idea, thought, or opinion that comes to our minds. “We know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love edifies. And if anyone thinks that he knows anything, he knows nothing yet as he ought to know. But if anyone loves God, this one is known by Him” (I Cor. 8:1-3). The Apostle reminds us that, no matter the age one finds themselves, knowledge can produce arrogance and out of arrogance the soil of one’s heart hardens. St. Paul continues, saying that despite knowledge puffing one up, love transforms, and if one loves God then God knows them. That is an intimate knowledge, a union of man to God: true love.

St. Thalassios, contrasting the wisdom of this age (cf. I Cor. 2:6), offers insight into overcoming the thorns and darkening clouds of inundating information, “Obedience to the commandments is the resurrection of the dead, for by nature life follows upon virtue.”[3] The resurrection of the dead is likened to one emerging from darkness, error, and the fallible human mind, bogged down by the overbearing waves and storms of the world. Obedience to the commandments predicates this love that the Apostle speaks of: “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (Jn. 14:15).

No amount of media consumption, knowledge of facts, opinions, and discourse can engender wisdom, just as rain alone cannot force barren soil to bear fruit. In contrast, obedience softens the heart, making it fertile ground for the Word. Without it, we risk becoming like the demoniac of the Gadarenes, bound by the Legion of distractions and passions. Yet Christ restores him, freeing him from death and darkness, just as He offers us healing if we turn to Him in repentance.

The demoniac, cleansed of the many demons afflicting him, sitting at the feet of Jesus is an image of one healed, of one having encountered Life Himself and Truth. The demoniac becomes an icon of transformation. Sitting at Christ’s feet, he is restored to his right mind, just as the sinful woman who anointed Christ’s feet with her tears was forgiven and sent away in peace. Both respond to Christ’s love with worship and obedience, bearing witness to His power.

Can we imagine being restored by the Life-giver?

Sitting at His feet, being exalted by God in our repentance, offering Him worship and seeking to follow Him on our own accord because of the great things He has done for us (cf. Lk. 8:39).

Can we open ourselves to receiving His healing Word that we, too, may depart carrying His love to those around us?

No matter the storms that we weather together or the onslaught of information that seeks to drive us to despair, Christ is with us!

The parable of the Sower challenges us to examine the state of our hearts. Are they hardened paths, resistant to the seed? Are they rocky soil, shallow and unable to endure trials? Or are they fertile ground, prepared through repentance, humility, and obedience?  

St. Kyril of Alexandria writes: “A pathway is always hard and untilled… All those, therefore, whose mind is hard and unyielding and, so to speak, pressed together, do not receive the divine seed; for the divine and sacred admonition finds no entrance into them, nor do they accept the words that would produce in them the fear of God, and by means of which they could bring forth as fruits the glories of virtue.” [4]

The hardened mind, clinging to self-reliance and worldly cares, blocks the Word and turns us away from our God-given purpose. As St. Gregory observes, evil arises when we are diverted from the activity appropriate to our nature—union with God. [5]

Trusting in ourselves leads to disobedience and spiritual ruin, like building a house on sand (cf. Matt. 7:26-27). But Christ calls us to obedience, to leave behind worldly ambitions and distractions to enter the Ark of His Church. He is the Master and the Pilot, commanding even the winds and the waves (cf. Lk. 8:25). With Him, we can weather the storms of life and resist the passions and temptations that threaten to overwhelm us.

The wisdom of this world, with its prideful philosophies and endless pursuits, is like the Tower of Babel—an attempt to reach heaven through human effort, destined for confusion and collapse. In contrast, the Holy Spirit unites us in Christ, restoring us to our true purpose. The age of information and technological progress cannot save us, but Christ can. He calls us to bear fruit with patience and a good heart, putting our faith into action through obedience to His commandments.

While we live in this information age, what is a true commodity is our attention, and where our attention goes is what gets watered. St. Paul writes that we are in a lifelong contest, a war against darkness (cf. II Tim. 2:3-5). The world tempts us to build empty towers of intellectual fancies and self-reliance, but Christ offers us the truth of who we are meant to be. By cleaving to His commandments and warring against the passions, we become doers of the Word (cf. Jas. 1:22), bearing fruit worthy of repentance. Our faith, like a seed, flourishes when watered with humility, diligence, and love.

Let us not be hearers only, deceiving ourselves, but doers of the Word. Let us put down this alienation from God by our ignorance and attention being diverted toward sensible things and worldly cares. In Christ, we are saved—not by hoarding knowledge, but by obedience, repentance, and His transformative grace. Let us soften our hearts, receive His Word, and bear fruit—changed ‘from glory to glory’ (II Cor. 3:18), until we shine with the light of Christ Himself.

Ο ΧΡΙΣΤΟΣ ΕΝ ΤΩ ΜΕΣΩ ΗΜΩΝ! ΚΑΙ ΗΝ ΚΑΙ ΕΣΤΙ ΚΑΙ ΕΣΤΑΙ

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[1] St. Gregory Palamas, The Triads, ed. and intro. John Meyendorff, trans. Nicholas Gendle, preface by Jaroslav Pelikan (Ramsey, NJ: Paulist Press, 1983), 26.

[2] St. Thalassios the Libyan. The Philokalia, Vol. 2, 328, St. Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain and St. Makarious of Corinth, eds., trans. G.E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard, and Kallistos Ware (New York: Faber and Faber, 1981).

[3] Ibid.

[4] St. Kyril of Alexandria. Homily 41, Commentary. Ch. 8, 178].

[5] Palamas, The Triads, 28.