Jesus proposed another parable to the crowds, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everyone was asleep his enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat, and then went off. When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well. The slaves of the householder came to him and said, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ His slaves said to him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ He replied, ‘No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest; then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters, ‘First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barn.’” (Matthew 13.24-30)
My mom, who loved flowers of every sort, was always double-checking my flowerbeds for any new flower she might find and, if finding one, would ask me the name of it. Having neither her memory nor her concern for careful identification, I’d admit ignorance, an acknowledgement that was generally met with some confusion on my mom’s part, finding it impossible to understand how I didn’t want to know the name of every flower.
Of course, there would be other times when she herself was puzzled, pondering a particular plant at length, unsure of what to make of it. Then her question would be, “Are you sure that’s a flower and not a weed?” Again, my answer was unsatisfactory because I did not have the kind of certainty she wanted. At that point, our conversation usually became philosophic with my asking her what differentiates a weed from a flower.
Neither she nor I could provide a good answer to that question–a sure sign we were in philosophy and not horticulture. She tended towards aesthetics, believing that a flower had more beauty than a weed. I tended towards geography, arguing that a weed was simply a flower that was in the wrong place. Placed elsewhere, away from its more attractive siblings, the weed might be seen as equally deserving of being called a flower. I suppose we were saying the same thing, only in different ways. In other words, perception decides whether a plant is a flower or a weed.
The selection from scripture that we study on this Sunday admits the same problem in differentiating between a weed and a stalk of wheat, at least when both are young plants. The evangelist Matthew is on a roll in this section of his gospel, having Rabbi Jesus use plants and seeds in multiple stories, the agrarian images providing a platform for a teaching from the Rabbi, not on plant life, but on the good life, by which Rabbi Jesus means the moral life.
Last week, we heard the Galilean Teacher talk about the farmer broadcasting seeds in his field, with the seeds falling on hard ground, rocks, briars, and some on good soil. That image served the purpose of prompting believers to strive for being suitable soil for the word of God. Today, a similar example is offered in the story of the farmer who finds that his wheat crop has weeds growing in it. His field workers want to know what is to be done. And next in the sequence is a story about a mustard seed that surpasses all expectations. This section of Matthew’s text is a moral discourse dressed up in a farmer’s almanac.
For anyone accustomed to planting wheat, as most of the Rabbi’s listeners were, the story that he tells of the wheat and the weeds makes sense. They’ve seen it happen hundreds of times. Wheat is planted and sprouts. As weeks pass, it becomes clear that weeds also have sprung up in the ground. Without herbicides that the modern farmer depends on to resolve the problem, the farm workers in the story are in a quandary.
As we heard, they are not sure where the weeds have come from, supposing that the farmer’s wheat seeds were contaminated with seeds of weeds. He assures them he had nothing to do with the weeds. So they ask the farmer if he wants them to pull up the weeds. His reply is straightforward. “No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest.”
He then explains that he will have the harvester separate the weed stalks from the wheat stalks, the former bundled up and burned, the latter gathered and put in the barn. Again, there is nothing unfamiliar about the story to those with whom Rabbi Jesus shares it. In fact, one wonders why the workers even ask if they should pull out the weeds. Obviously, they’re inexperienced farmhands.
However, it serves the point of the story, which Matthew takes pains to explain a few verses later after he talks about mustard seeds growing into gigantic bushes. Again, we saw the same thing last week with the story of the sower and the seeds. Matthew has Rabbi Jesus give an explanation. Perhaps the Rabbi did. Perhaps he didn’t. I tend to think Jesus preferred to let his parables speak for themselves. With an explanation, they become more an allegory than a parable.
Whatever the original story was, Matthew, writing decades after Rabbi Jesus told it, uses it for his purposes or, more precisely, tailors it for his intended audience. As we know, Matthew is writing for an audience of early Christian believers, most of whom were Jews, who are experiencing trying times as they attempt to follow the ways and the teachings of Rabbi Jesus. They are ostracized by fellow Jews and beat up by Roman authorities. It is not an easy life.
So, Matthew presents the story as a reminder to them that they have to show fortitude and forbearance as they live out the words of Rabbi Jesus. Yes, they live among weeds that make life a holy hell for them, but they should place their fortunes on the future when the Almighty will separate the weeds from the wheat, hurling the weeds into hell and bringing the believers into his barn. The task of the believer is to stay focused on doing the right thing and not losing heart. God will handle the worrisome weeds in due time.
Given the context and concerns of Matthew, the story makes perfect sense. It still makes good sense in these times. Everybody knows the world is a mixed bag filled with good and bad. And there are many times when good people think the bad people are winning or, phrased another way, getting away with murder. All likely true. So, what is a good person to do?
Matthew’s answer still applies. That is, stay true to the message of the Rabbi. Accept the hard reality that bad people are around and can cause immense suffering to the good guys. But trust that God will sort it out in the end. So waste little time worrying about the weeds. Live your life as a believer however overwhelming the weeds in your life are.
As I said, that is the straightforward intent of the story. But Rabbi Jesus’ parables always carry a twist, something unexpected, something surprising beneath the surface. With that possibility in mind, we might think about the parable from another perspective than the usual one of ourselves as golden heads of wheat surrounded by ugly stalks of weeds.
Admittedly, that is the position most every listener takes in hearing the story, which, by its very nature, means we see ourselves as the good guys in the story. But what if it is a little more complex than a simple good versus evil situation? What if the field is actually our heart, a place that has plenty of good in it, but also harbors enough bad to make us, at best, a mishmash of good intentions and bad decisions?
With that perspective, it is less easy for us to sit back and judge the world at large, self-satisfied and sure that everything else is going to hell in a handbasket. The problem with staying with the surface of the story is that we end up sanctimonious, the good guys in the white hats, fighting the good fight, while those we disagree with or dislike end up the bad guys in the black hats, impeding the progression of good. Such clean and crisp dichotomies are dangerous for the simple reason that the only saints are in heaven, not on earth.
And, truth be told, we already live in a sharply divided world, polarized and politicized. We don’t need any more divisiveness. And if the only thing we take from Rabbi Jesus’ story is that we’re good wheat in the midst of a bunch of weeds, then we’re only adding to the fire. A more honest appraisal of ourselves–and one that the story allows if we let it–is that we have plenty of weeds growing in our own gardens, so we don’t need to assume any superiority over others, dismissive and denunciative of others whom we consider inferior to ourselves.
When we see ourselves as possibly being the weeds in the story, then we are going to be less judgmental and less fundamental in our outlook on others. That is not to say that we don’t see the weeds in their lives. It’s only to say that we also see our own with equal clear-sightedness. In this way, we stay humble, which is a good place for human beings to be, humble and human both meaning close to the ground.
As I see it, Rabbi Jesus never told a story that would have us become sanctimonious and religious zealots out to crucify others for their errant ways. He suffered enough under the Pharisees and the Temple priests to know the world is not made better by persecuting those with whom we dislike and disagree. Better instead, he always preached, to look inward at ourselves, not outward at others. As he reminded the Pharisees, just because the outside of a cup looks clean doesn’t mean the inside is.
So, taking the part of the weeds in the story allows us to see that there are parts of ourselves that are not clean-cut and not lily-white. Recognizing our own weaknesses and our own brokenness, we steer away from castigating and criticizing others for their crimes and misdemeanors, seeing in them reflections of ourselves, creatures very much in need of redemption.
And the story reminds us that God–whom it is safe to say takes the part of the farmer–is immensely patient, something that works to our benefit if we acknowledge we are a weedy mess. The farmer tells the laborers to wait until the end of the harvest. Then there will be time to figure out what is good and what is bad. That merciful wait on the part of the Almighty gives us enough time to do some weeding in our own heart so that there will be less of a mix when the harvest comes. Patient forbearance, in that instance, works in our favor.
As I said, it’s another way of looking at the story, one I like because it makes it less easy for us to divide the world into us and them, and makes it more difficult for us to become smug and sure of our own righteousness. It is always good to be reminded of the story told about the time when The Times of London sent out an inquiry to authors asking them the question, “What’s wrong with the world today?”
The well-known and greatly respected Christian writer, G.K. Chesterton responded in this way: “Dear Sir, I am. Yours, G.K. Chesterton.”
He, for one, understood it makes sense for us to take the part of the weeds in the story.
–Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 