|   | 
     
        
        Calvary 
        Episcopal Church  
        Memphis, 
        Tennessee  
        July 
        18, 1999 
        The Eighth Sunday After Pentecost 
       
        Wheat and Tares Growing 
        Together? 
        The 
        Rev. Margaret B. Gunness 
      Gospel: 
        Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 
         
      This familiar 
        parable is probably one that any of us who have been working in our gardens 
        this summer can easily identify with. Weeds do indeed have a way of seeming 
        to appear out of nowhere, and in our zeal to get rid of them, it seems 
        that we often pull up a few fragile flowers as well. So let's keep this 
        gardening experience in mind this morning as we try to hear what the Spirit 
        is saying to us in the scripture we have just heard. What I hear in the 
        parable is this: 
         
        Yes, there is wheat growing, and there also are tares.  
        There is good growing, and also there is evil. 
        There is hope, and there is despair. 
        There is building up, and there is tearing down. 
         
        And all of these exist side by side, mixed all together in great abundance 
        everywhere - in the world at large, in the city of Memphis, even in the 
        church and even in you and in me. All of us are a part of that great garden 
        of God's creation, where both good seed and bad have been planted, and 
        where even now they are growing together, even now they are bearing fruit. 
        So I think we'd be wise to listen very carefully to what this parable 
        is trying to say to us, and through it, to what the Spirit of God is calling 
        us to understand. 
         
        But let me begin with a story. It's one I heard from Madeleine L'Engle 
        a long time ago. She was speaking to the clergy of the Diocese of Massachusetts 
        and at that point was talking about how the human body handles disease. 
        And she told us about a conversation she had recently had with a friend 
        of hers suffering from cancer. She said she asked the friend if he had 
        a way of visualizing the interaction between the chemotherapy medication 
        and the cancerous cells during his long periods of treatment. And he'd 
        replied, yes, that he thinks of a mighty battle between them going on 
        in his body, with the chemo army fighting ferociously to be victorious. 
        "Well," she said, "he was quite excited about this war 
        going on inside himself." But then, she gave him another way of thinking 
        about it. She said, "Why don't you do this: Why don't you imagine 
        that the chemo cells come up to the cancerous ones, bow to them and then 
        embrace them, holding them long and tenderly until the cancer cells lose 
        their anger, relax their grip and become quite whole and peaceful?" 
         
         
        How similar this is to what I believe is the critical statement in the 
        parable. When the workers asked if they should pull the weeds from the 
        garden, the master responded by saying, "No, 
        don't pull the weeds, because in gathering them you would uproot the wheat 
        at the same time. So let them both grow together until the harvest." 
      Now, gardeners 
        that we are, this is quite a new approach. So let's look a little more 
        closely, and see what we discover. 
         
        First of all, I think this parable is saying something critical to us 
        about the nature of our humanness itself. And what it's saying is this: 
        that we human beings are a mixed bag - each one of us within ourselves 
        and all of us put together. And I believe that this is true. I believe 
        it because I have seen that, both individually and collectively, we are 
        indeed capable of heartbreaking kindness towards one another, and also 
        of heartbreaking evil as well. We are capable of building up, and capable 
        of tearing down, capable of great love and capable of hatred. And that 
        being so, our lives indeed are like a field where both wheat and tares 
        are growing together in abundance, where each is thriving, and where each 
        is bearing fruits which are either as sweet as nectar or as bitter as 
        death itself. And when we try, we can see all of these fruits in abundance 
        all around us all the time. So the parable is calling us to open our eyes 
        and take notice, before it's too late and it's time for the harvest. 
         
        But then, on the other hand, to take it a step further, I think the parable 
        isn't only describing something about human nature, but that it is saying 
        something to us about the nature of God as well. And what I believe it 
        is saying is this: that as the Master Gardener who chooses to allow both 
        wheat and tares, both good and evil, to continue their growing along together, 
        God is proclaiming the unerring hope that he has placed in the very being 
        of the human race. God is proclaiming that just as we have hope in God, 
        so God continues to have hope in us. Despite all our mistakes and all 
        our misdeeds, despite all our "weediness," God isn't ready to 
        give up on us yet. So wheat and tares, the potential for good and the 
        potential for evil, are left to grow together in us until the end of the 
        age, because it is in the nature of God to be hopeful and not to give 
        up on the people created in his image. 
         
        So then, my fellow weeds and flowers, I ask you this: In this wild and 
        wonderful world that you and I inhabit, and standing here as we do this 
        morning holding in our hands the very real and urgent potential for both 
        good and of evil, I ask you: If God still persists in maintaining hope 
        in us, do we persist in maintaining hope in ourselves? Are we living making 
        choices, setting goals, taking steps to shape the future, are we doing 
        all of this as a people who are made strong by the presence of hope in 
        our hearts, as a people willing to stake our lives on the good future 
        that God has promised to those who believe? Do we behave day to day, in 
        small ways and in large, as a people who trust in the power of good to 
        overcome evil? Do we have the courage to live generously, giving abundantly 
        of ourselves in order to address the magnitude of evils that assault this 
        fragile earth and the diverse people who inhabit it? Can we do all that? 
        Or are we more likely to circle our wagons in self-protection and to look 
        inward to our own needs and those of people like us? Are we guided by 
        hope? Or are we so hopeless that we want to pluck out the stranger, the 
        ones unlike ourselves, to pluck them out like weeds, and save all the 
        growing space for ourselves?  
         
        If that fearful life is ours, let us listen, then, carefully, to this 
        parable. Because it is sounding a warning for us, that if we try to uproot 
        the weeds and throw them away, we will uproot the wheat as well. And it 
        is urgent that we try to preserve the life of both together, for if we 
        don't, both will be destroyed together. 
         
        I think of the world and of human life as they are today. I think of the 
        inequities in education, in health care, in housing, in employment. I 
        think of the hope and of the hopelessness of the varied peoples of the 
        earth. I think of the abundance which surrounds some, and of the scarcity 
        which plagues others. Yet isn't this world the great Garden of Eden where 
        wheat and tares are growing together even now? Yes, it is, and so it must 
        always be. So how, then, can we heed the warning of the parable? How? 
        I believe we must begin by grieving, by each and every member of this 
        large and wondrous human family deeply grieving together, for it has been 
        said that (borrowing from the words of Walter Brueggemann) ...any effective 
        criticism of the way things are now, and thus any change towards what 
        they might become, must begin first of all in the capacity of the human 
        heart to grieve, because grief is the most visceral announcement that 
        things are not right. 
         
        So what today's familiar parable does is issue to us an invitation to 
        grieve, to grieve openly together in the very depths of our soul. To grieve 
        because we can see all too clearly the injustices which prevail among 
        the people of the world. To grieve and yet to hope, because we can see 
        that if all of the people and pieces of God's creation are not encouraged 
        to grow together in profuse abundance, all will die together in unnecessary 
        scarcity. I am convinced that within each one of us - and even more, within 
        all of us working together as one - there is a great capacity for justice, 
        and that it is only our fear that keeps us from doing the work that justice 
        requires of us. So what is urgent now, perhaps more than ever before, 
        is that we dare to act according to this innate capacity for justice that 
        dwells within each one of us, that we dare to act from the wellspring 
        of strength and goodness that exists deep within us all. Perhaps this 
        is the best way to get back to a place like Eden, where the diverse creatures 
        of the earth grew in abundance, where the wheat and the thorn knew themselves 
        to be companions, and where no one was threatened by the need or the gift 
        of another, for all together were a part of the great tapestry of life. 
        Oh, that it could be woven again, using the likes of us! 
      
      Copyright 
        1999 Calvary Episcopal Church.  
      
      Gospel: 
        Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 
         He put before them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven may be 
        compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody 
        was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went 
        away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared 
        as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, 'Master, 
        did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds 
        come from?' He answered, 'An enemy has done this.' The slaves said to 
        him, 'Then do you want us to go and gather them?' But he replied, 'No; 
        for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. 
        Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time 
        I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles 
        to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.'"  
         
       Then he 
        left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached 
        him, saying, "Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field." He 
        answered, "The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field 
        is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds 
        are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the 
        devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. 
        Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be 
        at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will 
        collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they 
        will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping 
        and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the 
        kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!" (NRSV) 
      [back 
        to top] 
         
            
        
     | 
      |