There are all sorts of questions Jesus doesn’t answer through his explanation of this parable. But one conclusion he does seem to want his audience to draw is that it is not the servants’ job to pull up the weeds. That will happen at some point. But it’s the servants’ job to nurture the field—where wheat and weed are both present—and trust that the farmer will ultimately oversee the harvest.
Pentecost 8A–Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 (at Faith Lutheran Church, Winnipeg)
Last week Pr. Chris joked about just saying “this is the gospel of the Lord,” and then sitting down, because the readings basically explained themselves. This week we get another parable with an explanation, but both the parable and Jesus’ explanation are a bit harder to make sense of. Besides that, the second half of today’s reading—the explanation of the parable—actually comes after a few more parables which we don’t read today. We’ll read that section next week.
Needless to say, this section of Matthew that we split into multiple weeks really needs to be considered as a whole unit pointing to the same central themes. To pick them apart and hold them separate from each other has the potential of minimizing or misinterpreting what Jesus is trying to communicate—at least from this gospel’s perspective—about what God is up to in the world and how we can be part of it. So there’s an invitation right from the start to hold off on drawing firm conclusions, but instead to keep reading to get a fuller, more layered story.
Which is maybe also part of the point of this parable we read today. It’s important to remember that this is a parable—it’s a story Jesus tells to make a point. And even though we get a pretty direct explanation of the parable, there are plenty of questions the story brings up that Jesus doesn’t answer. Jesus doesn’t clarify what time of year this planting season is happening or how long it was between when the seeds were planted and when the weeds were noticed. The land owner seems to be a man of economic means to have his own land and people who work his fields for him, but is still the one to directly plant the seeds. And that doesn’t even account for the problematic reference to master and slave and ‘children of evil’ which causes our post-modern ears to perk up with sensitivities to systems of power and inequality.
So there’s plenty this parable doesn’t clarify—because it is a story that Jesus tells to support a particular point. It’s also a story Matthew preserves to support a particular point. Unlike last week’s parable of the sower which is found in other gospels, this parable of the wheat and the weeds is only in Matthew, which reminds us to read it through the particular lens of this gospel’s theme, focus and understanding of God’s relationship with the world through Jesus.
So—thanks, Pr. Chris—for giving me the easy passage to preach on. Clearly I can do it justice in 12 minutes or less.
With all of that going on around this story, I also have to admit that I know very little about growing wheat. My mom had a garden growing up but my chores had more to do with setting the table and bringing the clean laundry in off the clothes line. For most of my adult life so far, I’ve never successfully kept a plant alive—except maybe a bamboo chute—and my living situations have been so temporary and transient that even an herb garden didn’t make sense. So I don’t know much about gardening or farming, growing wheat, distinguishing between weeds, owning property or navigating seasons of planting and harvesting.
But I was a preschool teacher and worked in early childhood education before I went to seminary, and I have been involved in babysitting, teaching Sunday School or supervising children and youth in some form for most of my life. Which means I’ve witnessed my share of playground and classroom disputes, listened to plenty of kids tattle on each other, and helped kids regulate strong emotions.
So when the servants in Jesus’ story come to the farmer about the weeds that have grown up with the wheat, I think of the kid who would come to me with a commentary on the behavior of other kids on the playground.
“Teacher, Sally is playing with John’s toys and she’s not supposed to.”
“Teacher, Lucas is climbing up the slide the wrong way.”
“Teacher, Susan and Mary are using sticks as weapons and that’s not allowed.”
Can you guess how I responded to these reports? “Who are you in charge of? Yourself. You worry about yourself. I am the teacher. I am watching the whole class. I will take care of whether others are doing what they’re supposed to be doing. You just worry about yourself.”
Do you see the parallels to this story?
A farmer plants a bunch of seed. An enemy sneaks in and plants weeds. Both grow. Servants come to the farmer and comment that there are weeds growing along with the wheat and ask if they should pull up the weeds. The farmer tells them to slow down, take a breath, let both grow together for a while and trust that it will be sorted out at the harvest time. He will take care of what gets kept and what gets thrown away. That’s not for them to worry about. Their job is to tend the soil and nurture the field for the best possibility for growth.
Now, maybe you are more mature than me and have never “tattled” on your neighbour to God. But I have to confess that sometimes I’m no better than my preschool kids when it comes to telling God what I think God ought to do about the “bad weeds.” I have been known to assume that I have the authority to definitively label who or what is ‘wheat’ and who or what is ‘weed,’ and expect that it is my job to point these things out to God and others. And definitely I’ve been known to secretly or not-so-secretly expect God to step into the situation right away and agree with my classification of who is ‘good’ and who is ‘bad,’ and to eliminate the ‘bad.’
I don’t think I’m the only one. Unfortunately, it’s not hard to find examples of the destruction that results when we’ve done this as people. When one group decides that another group or individual is unequivocally a ‘weed’ that needs to be removed right away, we get things like conflict, segregation, genocide, oppression, and inequality. It doesn’t go well.
There are all sorts of questions Jesus doesn’t answer through his explanation of this parable. But one conclusion he does seem to want his audience to draw is that it is not the servants’ job to pull up the weeds. That will happen at some point. But it’s the servants’ job to nurture the field—where wheat and weed are both present—and trust that the farmer will ultimately oversee the harvest.
Now, remember how I started by talking about today’s reading as one piece of a larger series? Last week one of the messages from the parable of the sower and the seeds is that the sower scatters seed abundantly, and good soil results in growth. Next week we will hear the mustard seed used as the positive example of the Kingdom of God. But does anyone know anything about mustard plants? They can be classified as weeds, as I understand it. So it seems to me the overall point is not to create firm categories of who is ‘in’ and who is ‘out,’ when it comes to the kingdom of God, the point is that God is the one who scatters the seed abundantly. Ultimately the harvest is not up to us, and God’s presence in the world often shows up in surprising or unexpected ways.
In today’s parable, the land owner seems to understand that life and growth are complex. There’s reason to let weeds and wheat grow together, because to prematurely pull up the weeds can impact the growth of the wheat, and in the long run the weeds become fuel for fire. The reality is that in our limited capacity to understand, forces of good and forces of evil are sometimes tangled up together and hard to clearly differentiate. When we rush to point out the weeds, or like my preschool students when we are eager to point out to God the way we think others deserve punishment, we minimize the wisdom, care and insight of the one who sows the seed. We have a tendency to think it’s our job to tell God who is right and who is wrong…and we are most often right while anything that’s different or unfamiliar is probably wrong. But throughout Jesus’ ministry, he seems to encourage a broader, more patient, more expansive response. Any time someone comes to Jesus expecting condemnation, Jesus demonstrates love. When someone brings someone else to Jesus for condemnation, Jesus demonstrates grace. Doesn’t he know who he’s eating with? Doesn’t he know what she’s done? Jesus demonstrates love and grace, acknowledging that our perceptions are often subjective—filtered through our own bias and imperfections. Today we are reminded that we don’t have to worry about casting judgment on others. That is not our job. And frankly, I don’t want that job. I don’t trust myself. But I do trust God.
I don’t know about you—but for me is this is good news. Because I know that while I try to be good soil and would like to think that I am wheat, I am not all the time. Sometimes I’m the rocky soil and the word of God just doesn’t take root the way it could. Sometimes I’m the weed, and the cause of the word of God not growing and thriving in someone else’s life. Sometimes I am the one casting judgment and telling God who I think should be pulled up and removed from the field because of my own fears, insecurities or ignorance. And it is good news to me that I am invited to keep growing and that I can trust a broader, deeper story of renewal and redemption.
This parable leaves me with some questions. It doesn’t really explain why there are weeds in the field in the first place and why the forces of evil are here to begin with. It doesn’t exactly explain how the harvest will go, or when the final judgment will happen. It doesn’t really give us any strategies for resisting the forces of evil and suggests that some weeds will get thrown out. And it’s easy to fixate on the questions about the who, what, when, where and how that the parable doesn’t answer. But I would like to suggest that Jesus didn’t tell this story to give us a metric to use against one another or a manual to explain the end times or whatever we call it. Especially, Jesus didn’t tell this story for us to use against those with whom we disagree. Instead, I think he told this story and the stories surrounding this one to release us from the burden of needing to control what is ultimately not ours to control, and to trust that, as Martin Luther puts it in his explanation of the Lord’s Prayer, “the kingdom will come, whether or not we ask for it, but we ask in this prayer that it may also come to us.”
As a preschool teacher, I learned that moving beyond the finger pointing and tattling involved more than just making sure that every kid followed the rules all the time. It also involved reminding my students that they were safe in my care. They didn’t have to project their fear and insecurity on the misbehavior of others when they learned that they could trust me, and we were committed to creating healthy community for everybody. Out of my love and commitment to them and to the whole class, I would take care of them. I would help them learn how to voice their big feelings in ways that did not cause harm to themselves or others. My care for them wouldn’t change if they made mistakes, and together we would celebrate growth and get better at stuff. I would help them engage with their environment in a way that that honoured our shared space with each other. They didn’t have to regulate how others were or were not following the rules as they learned to trust me and my care for them and for the whole class.
I think it’s the same with God. As we learn to trust God’s care for us, we realize we don’t have to project our own imperfections, insecurities and uncertainties on people or ideas that are different or unfamiliar. As we remember the promises God has made to us—that we are deeply loved and safe in God’s care—we are able to extend lovingkindness to others. As we remember that each day we are given to live in this world and be in relationship with each other is a gift, we learn to invest and steward the time, resources, and influence we have out of generosity rather than greed.
This story invites us into the freedom of knowing the end of the story—that ultimately death will be defeated, evil will be dealt with, life will be restored, creation will be renewed and the righteous will shine like the sun.
We don’t have to worry or wonder about what that means for us. We know. The promise we receive in baptism is that we are made children of God, sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. The promise we receive when we are invited forward to take part in communion is that our sins are forgiven and we are restored to life in Christ. The promise we share with one another each week when we extend a word of peace to each other is that there is something deeper and more profound that gives us hope in the midst of our daily struggles. We can live into each day trusting in these promises, and free to share them with others.