Wheat and Weeds: When 'Maybe' Becomes Faith

The holy Gospel according to Matthew, the 13th chapter.

Glory to you, O Lord. Jesus put before

the crowds 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,

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

the angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned

up with fire, so it will 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. This is

the Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, Lord Christ.

You may be seated.

What is your favorite thing about Jesus?

There's a lot to choose from. Is it the

way he loved outcasts? Is your favorite

thing the times that he healed the broken?

Perhaps the feasts that he threw for thousands?

Is your favorite thing the way that death could not hold back

his love? Perhaps it's the truth that he came

to save the whole world.

Is it his promise to return once more?

You name it. I mean, you can't really go wrong when it

comes to Jesus. But among all those amazing things, something that is

a favorite of mine is is this: when Jesus

is asked a hard question,

he almost always answers with a story.

Again and again in the Gospels, someone comes up to Jesus to ask him a

question. Sometimes it's because that person is seeking an answer,

searching for meaning in their life. Sometimes the person

asking the question is trying to trick Jesus.

No matter the reason behind the question, Jesus will often answer with

a story. You know, someone asked Jesus, Teacher, what must

I do to inherit eternal life?

Another person asked Jesus, Rabbi, what is the kingdom of heaven like?

Or someone asked Jesus, Who is my neighbor?

And again and again and again, Jesus answers these hard questions with

a story. And this is more often than not where

we get Jesus' wonderful, amazing,

what we call parables; stories that are not in and

of themselves true but are stories that point to the truth. And I'm talking about

capital T Truth here; truth about God, truth about heaven,

truth about our world, truth about the ways humans,

you and I, do live

and are called to live.

Today we heard one of Jesus' parables, the parable

of the wheat among the weeds, or sometimes referred

to as the parable of the wheat and tares.

But here's the interesting thing for us today.

Instead of this parable originating from

a question, this parable leaves

us with questions.

And in this, we are not alone. The disciples themselves, when they heard

this confounding story, this story about a sower sowing

good seed and then an enemy who sows bad seed while

the sower sleeps, only to leave it grow side

by side until harvest time when both are collected and sorted

out. Even the disciples had questions and they asked Jesus

this, they said, Jesus, explain to us the

parable of the wheat of the field, the wheat of the

field. So Jesus does,

or at least he explains what different parts of the parable represent.

He explains how the one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man.

The weeds are sown by the evil one. The reapers in

the story, well, those are the angels, and the harvest is

the end of the age, a cosmic ending,

when the harvesters will chop down both wheat and weeds,

the good and destined for God's kingdom and the bad as

fuel for the fire.

And I don't know about you, but even with this explanation,

I'm still left with some questions, maybe even more than

before. And these aren't easy

questions, but hard questions that interrogate the very meaning

of life, of existence,

the meaning who God is. Questions like,

why can't we pull up the weeds ourselves?

Why does it seem like evil is ignored?

Why does God allow evil to grow in the first place?

So, I'm going to be a bit like Jesus here.

Because what does Jesus do when confronted with a tough question?

He tells a story. So,

I'm going to tell a story, a parable, not a true

story, but a story that points to the truth, the truth,

capital T Truth, of what Jesus is trying to teach us this morning

as we live in our world of wheat and weeds.

And a big shout out to Leanne Thomas, wherever you are.

This story actually comes from a children's book; it's called Zen Shorts.

And I was writing this sermon the other day and I had the children's

book beside me and Eliza comes up and she goes, what are you doing

with that children's book? And I said, I'm using it for my sermon. So I

actually had to take a break from my sermon and read that book to her.

So if what follows doesn't make any sense, it's her fault; she interrupted

my train of thought. No, no, no, no. It's called Zen Shorts and

it's a collection of ancient Chinese folk stories and here's one of them.

The story goes like this: There

once was an old farmer who had worked his crop for many years.

One day, his horse ran away. Maybe you've heard this story

before. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to

visit. Such bad

luck, they said sympathetically.

Maybe, the farmer replied.

The next morning, the horse returned, bringing with it 2 other wild

horses. Such good luck!

the neighbors exclaimed.

Maybe, replied the farmer. The following day,

his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown off,

and broke his leg. Again, the neighbors came

to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.

Such bad luck, they said.

Maybe, answered the farmer. The day after that,

military officials came to the village to draft young men into

the army to fight in a war. Seeing that the son's leg

was broken, they passed him by. Such good luck,

cried the neighbors. Maybe,

said the farmer. Maybe.

Maybe. It's the acknowledgment that we are not

at the end of the story but somewhere

in the middle. Maybe is a way of saying that

there are forces in the world at work that we cannot ever claim to understand.

Maybe is sometimes the only answer we seemingly

get about our lives. Maybe is sometimes

all we can utter from our one small mortal

place within it all. And like the farmer in

the folktale, we aren't quite sure if what we're looking at is good or bad,

if it's fortunate or fatal,

if it's wheat or tares. Maybe it

is, maybe it isn't.

That is exactly what Jesus is teaching in the parable of the wheat and the

weeds. You see, the servants, they see weeds

and immediately they want to act, cast judgment about what is

good or bad. Go ahead, rip out the weeds.

Now, how often are we like those servants?

Or the neighbors in the parable casting judgment without seeing the whole

field or how the story ends.

You know, we see suffering and sickness and

we assume God has abandoned us.

We see injustice and we wonder where God is.

We see evil flourish and question whether goodness even

matters at all. We see conflict

in our families, communities, nation, and we want God to remove every weed

immediately. Yet Jesus reminds

us that appearances in the present are

maybe not the final word.

And it is exactly this that Jesus acknowledges in his parable

of the wheat among the weeds, and he does so with a little bit of

ancient botany. You see,

what Jesus is most likely referring to as a weed in his parable

is a plant commonly called darnel or cockle,

a troublesome weed found in grain fields that closely resembles

wheat and was plentiful in ancient Judea. And here's the

kicker: while the two of them are growing up, while they're just

shoots coming out of the ground, it's almost impossible to tell the difference between darnel

and real wheat.

Instead, you have to wait.

The difference is evident only when the plants mature

and the ears full of grain appear, because that's when something

special happens. The ears of real wheat,

the fruit on the stalk, is heavy with

goodness. And will droop closer to the ground, while the

ears of the darnel, this imposter plant,

are light. They stand straight up revealing their

deceit. You know, we want to start

ripping up what we see to be right or wrong.

What we fail to see is that God is patient and

allows the fruit to come to bear.

Into our haste and want for swift answers in the present,

Jesus is clear that— he's clear, a harvest will come.

There will be a day when justice is complete, the weeds will be gathered,

and the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of

their Father. Evil will not get

the final word, suffering does not get the final word, sickness does not,

not even death. And it's

the cross that teaches us that truth.

You see, when Jesus was upon the cross, the disciples and I think the whole

world looked upon it that day and they truly believed that it

was the end of the story. It looked like defeat,

it looked like failure, it looked like the triumph of evil.

Alright, imagine if the neighbors from our little folk story were there that day

looking up at the cross. They would have said,

such bad luck.

And to that, God says,

maybe. Because as

we know, on Easter morning, what looked like the end of the story and the

triumph of death became the greatest moment of victory.

And so it is with us and our lives. Sometimes what appears

to be weeds today becomes part of the story through which God grows our faith.

Maybe the painful seasons deepen compassion.

Maybe seemingly unanswered prayers teach perseverance.

Maybe waiting shapes our character more than receiving immediate

answers ever could. Now, we don't

always understand why God allows weeds to

grow beside the wheat.

But we do know who owns the field.

And because we know him, we can trust him, even when the stalks

of wheat and tares have not yet sprouted.

As people of faith, what Jesus' parable finally teaches

us is that if we trust, if we trust the promise of the sower

and if we believe and cling to the promises of God,

We, unlike the farmer in that folk story,

can actually say more than just maybe.

Maybe it is wheat. Maybe it is tares.

Maybe, but God knows.

When life looks like it's falling apart, sometimes all we

can say is, Maybe,

but God knows. When sickness overwhelms

us and we don't know what to do, we say, maybe,

but God knows. When evil seems to prosper,

maybe, but God knows.

Unlike the old farmer, our hope

is rests not in uncertainty,

but in the promises of Christ. We know

there will be a harvest. We know goodness will prevail. We know

God's kingdom will be fully revealed.

And until then,

we live faithfully in our field of maybes.

Sowing goodness, sowing love, sowing forgiveness,

sowing trust,

because we know that the field belongs to

God, and by His

grace, so do

we.