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At
my first church there was a field behind the building that was tilled
each spring for the congregation's gardeners. After the plots were
planted, you could not distinguish which belonged to the master gardeners
and which belonged to the rank amateurs. But by midsummer the difference
was apparent.
Noble Frederick's
garden was a horticultural masterpiece filled with tall stalks of
sweet corn, vines heavy with fat tomatoes, and cantaloupe the size
of bowling balls. He was there almost every day, watering the plants
and manicuring the immaculate, weed-free rows.
Then there was
Marilyn's garden. Right after the field was plowed, she went in
with her turbo-charged rotor-tiller and worked the soil to the consistency
of flour. After she planted her seeds and starts, Marilyn bid farewell
to her plot until late July. Her's was a non-invasive method of
gardening. She didn't water it or weed it. She was content to let
the weeds and her plantings co-exist. By the time she returned to
see how her garden had grown, the garden couldn't be seen. The weeds
were taller than she was!
From my study,
I saw Marilyn disappear into the thicket with buckets in case she
found any produce in the jungle. If an hour passed without seeing
her, I worried that she couldn't find her way out.
I couldn't help
but think of Marilyn as I studied the parable of the wheat and the
weeds, or, as some of you know it, the wheat and the tares. We are
in the portion of Matthew's gospel that contains a number of Jesus'
parables. Jesus didn't teach with abstract, ethereal lectures. His
used familiar, everyday images the people could understand. The
word parable comes from the Greek, para-- which means, "in
front of," and holein-- which means, "to throw down."
In other words, Jesus put stories down at people's feet so they
could pick them up, soak them in, and take root in their hearts.
"This is
what the Kingdom of God is like," Jesus said. One day a farmer
sowed good seed in his field. He finished by day's end and went
home. That night as he slept, despicable men crept into his field
and sowed weeds-- that's right… they sowed weeds in his wheat
field. The weed was called bearded darnel. In its early stages looked
just like wheat, but it wasn't wheat. Even a trained eye couldn't
tell the difference.
Weeks later
it was apparent that something was wrong with the wheat. The hired
hands asked the owner, "Didn't you plant that good DeKalb seed?"
"I did. Why do you ask?" "Your wheat is full of weeds.
Do you want us to pull them out?" The wheat and darnel were
intertwined. A pulled weed took wheat with it. "No, no, don't
do that," he said, "Let them grow together. We'll separate
them at harvest, burn the weeds and put the wheat in the silo."
This parable
had a general and a particular audience. It was for the masses,
but it was to one group in particular-those who spoke with certainty
about God; those who knew the difference between good and bad and
always chose the good; the pious ones who spent hours in prayer,
their hands folded just right and their posture just so; those who
only associated with good folks… like themselves; those who
didn't hesitate to weed out unseemly and unsavory people. It was
for the Pharisees, but they didn't get it. The planks in their eyes
that they got from pointing out the specks in other's eyes kept
the message from sinking in.
This is a parable
about the final judgment-the day of reckoning, the final audit at
which God will judge between the good and the bad. This theme of
separation is repeated in Jesus' other parables. A fisherman hauls
in a net full of fish. Since the net cannot choose the fish it catches,
the fisherman sorts them, keeping the good and throwing away the
bad. In Matthew 25, God separates the sheep from the goats. The
sheep cared for the sick, the hungry, and the hurting and are destined
for eternity with God. The goats have hell to pay because they saw
people in need, but looked away. Good fish and bad fish, sheep and
goats, wheat and weeds. One shall be separated from the other.
I recall the
story of the old man who listened to a revival preacher rant and
rave about the eternal gnashing of teeth that awaits the unrepentant.
Trying to get a rise out of the preacher, the old man said, "Well
preacher, I must be exempt. I don't have any teeth." The preacher
replied, "Teeth will be provided!" Woven throughout the
Bible is the reality of final judgment. There are no exemptions.
Here has ramifications for hereafter. What we do or don't do has
eternal significance.
This is a parable
of judgment. It is also a parable about opposition. Sowing darnel
in someone's wheat field was punishable under Roman law. Darnel
is toxic, and if processed with the wheat and consumed it caused
severe illness. When the owner discovered what happened, he reached
an immediate conclusion-"An enemy has done this."
C. S. Lewis
said, "We live in enemy occupied territory." Long before
weeds were sown in landowner's garden, an enemy sowed discord in
God's garden. "Eat from every tree, EXCEPT the tree of knowledge.
If you do, you will die," God said. Then along slithered the
slick-talking serpent that said, "God didn't really mean it.
Go ahead. Try it. You'll like it."
Regardless your
conception of evil, whether personified in Satan or as a malevolent
force at large in the universe, there is opposition to God's will.
It was there in Eden. A death cloud hung over Jesus from his birth
on. Since it's beginning, the church has faced opposition, especially
when it has been faithful to Jesus. We shouldn't take it personally.
The mere act trying to live like Jesus means that toes will be tromped
on. The principalities and powers won't give up turf to God's Kingdom
without a fight.
When our efforts
at faithful discipleship meet resistance, we shouldn't act surprised.
Jesus told the disciples repeatedly that resistance wouldn't be
an exception but the norm. "I'm sending you out as sheep among
wolves…" "Blessed are you when people mock and persecute
you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account…"
"Remember the word I said to you, 'A servant is not greater
than his master.' If they persecuted me, they will do the same to
you…"
Don't be surprised
when your faith meets confrontation. Adversity comes to every one.
We are not singled out. Jesus said the rain falls on the unjust
and the just-- the weeds and the wheat. We live in enemy occupied
territory. It is not an excuse for curling up in a fetal position.
It's an opportunity to stand on the rock of our salvation and demonstrate
to others our belief that--- "Great is he who is in me, than
he who is in the world.
There is another theme in this parable. It has to do with who is
qualified to make judgments. The hired hands were ready to yank
the weeds out by the roots, but they couldn't tell which were weeds
and which was wheat. There is a reason we are not to judge. WE ARE
NOT GOD. Only God knows what is in people's hearts.
British police
have now identified the four suicide bombers who struck London last
week and killed 55 people. They ranged in age from 18 to 30. The
oldest worked in the public schools as a teaching assistant. Months
ago his picture appeared in the paper. He was recognized for the
outstanding work he did in helping children with disabilities-work
he did up until he put on a backpack filled with explosives.
The columnist
Sydney Harris was invited to debate the legendary communications
specialist, Marshall McLuhan before a huge audience in Windsor,
Canada. Harris said, "I knew McLuhan was the drawing card;
I was only his foil, something like a prelim boxer signed up just
to give the champ a chance to show his stuff."
So many tickets
were sold that the event was moved to a larger venue in Detroit.
The debate began, and Harris was totally put off by McLuhan. He
couldn't stay on the subject, he didn't respond to Harris's points,
he rambled on, putting thoughts together with no logical connection.
He obviously hadn't prepared. He just showed up to grab the honorarium.
Afterward, Harris told his family, "The man is a palpable fraud."
Three weeks
later while reading The New York Times, he saw a little headline.
"McLuhan Enters Hospital in Boston." Reading on, it said
that he had undergone several hours of brain surgery to remove a
large tumor. The next day, Sydney Harris wrote in his column:
The chastening
message I took from that was, first, not to make private assumptions
from public conduct, and second, if we have to judge, let our judgments
be provisional, not ultimate. We really do not know why people do
what they do.
Whenever I am
tempted-as I often am, being by temperament a judgmental person-to
pass a hasty verdict on unattractive or bizarre behavior, I think
back to that night in Detroit and the nervous figure pacing the
stage with that ugly thing growing minute by minute inside the delicate
brain. "Debate? It's a marvel the could stand at all."
Experience alone ought to be enough to show us that we don't have
the whole story about the actions and motivations of others. Appearances
are deceiving. Behavior can be misconstrued. The saint may be an
ain't. The person who ignites our ire may carry a cross undetected
by our limited sight and insight. There is a reason we must leave
the judgment up to God. We don't get it right, and more often than
not, end up doing more harm than good.
I was recently
called for jury duty. For me, it was a first. The defendant was
charged with a particularly loathsome felony, and on the basis of
the evidence given, we were to decide the defendants guilt or innocence.
We were given no information about prior arrests, only the facts
pertaining to the case that was before us. The evidence seemed conclusive,
and after two hours of discussion, we reached a verdict.
As we were seated
in the jury box in front of the defendant, I felt the weight of
our decision. Our guilty verdict would determine this man's future,
and even though I think our decision was correct, I have no stomach
for making final judgments. I used to think I know, but I don't
know which is which or who is who anymore. When it comes to deciding
the state of people's souls, God can have the job.
The Pharisees
spent a lot of time passing judgment on their neighbors while being
smug about their own squeaky-clean records. They wanted their houses
of worship full of other squeaky-clean people, which meant that
a lot of riff-raff had to be weeded out. Jesus didn't like it a
bit. What kind of church do you suppose we would have if we weeded
out all the imperfect, inadequate, and sinful people? An empty one,
that's what!
The church is
made of wheat and weeds. The more I consider it, the more I think
that Marilyn had it right, not as far as gardening goes, but when
it comes to being the church we leave the wheat and weeds alone.
We let them grow together. I am in no position to judge you. You
have neither the wisdom nor the right to judge each other. That
is why we must open the door wide to receive everyone and exclude
no one.
What are you?
Wheat or weed? If you are wheat, keep growing and bear a harvest.
If you're a weed, you don't have to stay one. You know what you
are and aren't. I hope you also know what you can become by the
grace of our good judge. Like those who heard this parable first
time, let's go home and think about it.
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