Loading...As many of you are aware, Jeff and I have a garden. And you also know that I will make zucchini bread from our harvest. As a matter of fact, some of you request that zucchini bread be served at coffee hour. But today, it’s banana bread.
Well, this year, we planted zucchini seeds. And green beans, beet, carrot, radish, okra, and pepper seeds. We added in a few tomato plants, and it looked like it would become a nice, manageable garden. But …
Like last year, we have been harvesting volunteer leaf lettuce. We added some arugula seeds and some more lettuce seeds for some variety. We have herbs: basil, chives, lemon thyme, mint, and rosemary. And a few volunteer tomato plants that are thriving, too. Nothing all that surprising. But …
We are always, always surprised by plants that we did not plant. Sure, some are weeds. But this year, we have a lot of rogue squash plants. Some are still a mystery to us, because their leaves are so similar to one another. Using dirt from our compost pile, one never knows what seeds might be lurking there.
We debated whether we should pull some of these plants and transplant them where they could grow—or not—and we only transplanted one of them, so our little garden is looking very, very full, of very, very big green leaves.
You’ll be happy to know that at least one of these squash plants is, really, zucchini. And another is butternut squash. The biggest one just might be a pumpkin plant. Or maybe a melon of some sort. We will just have to wait and see.
Our gardens are a great place to spend time learning about how food grows and how we might think we have a plan, but sometimes, we are surprised by what happens.
The weather, the amount of time we can spend tending what we have planted, and the unknown residuals buried in a compost pile all can make gardening an adventure. And I am amazed to learn how some of the things growing in our garden have medicinal properties, even those I have considered to be weeds.
In our story today, Jesus talks about a wheat field that even though was carefully planted, as the story goes, “someone” vengeful decided to scatter bad seeds into the soil, making what was supposed to be easier to manage a bit of a mess. Weeds were now growing with the wheat. The thing about weeds is that sometimes you can’t really tell that they are weeds until they get big enough to identify. And by that time, it might be just too risky to pull them—especially if pulling them could dislodge the young, desired plants.
So, in this story, the weeds stay in the field, comingling with the wheat. The people tending the field are told to let everything continue to grow, before they can address the mess of plants and root systems. When harvest time comes, the weeds will be removed before the wheat and then burned. I can’t even imagine how difficult sorting those plants would be.
Of course, this story isn’t about wheat or weeds. It is about how God works in this world. It is Jesus reminding us Who is in charge, about Who is the judge. And it’s not any one of us.
We might see this story as binary, as either-or, as one that separates good people from not-so-good people. That some are weeds, people to be pulled and destroyed, and others valued plants worthy of being saved. On the face of it, that makes sense. But …
What if, instead, the story was about the earth, the soil, the foundation that provides both the seeds and what is necessary for growth? What if this is about recognizing that we are the soil, capable of growing what is good, necessary, and just, AND growing what is less than, problematic, and unjust? What if this is a story about how we humans can make good and bad decisions, behave in healthy and unhealthy ways? What if it is about finding redemption that changes us and the ways we behave? What if that redemption results in the opportunity of healing relationships through reconciliation?
Not one of us does life perfectly. No community goes without conflict or discomfort. Yet we all are a part of the earth, the ground, that bears fruit. The thing is it sometimes takes time to recognize the fruit – or the weeds – for what they are.
I cannot (yet) know if that large, vine-y plant is a pumpkin or a melon. And I could pull it out, because I know it is going to become large enough to take over the ground it is planted in and beyond, and it could smother other vegetables and herbs, but I know that whatever it is, it will provide something more than I can imagine. So, I will let it keep growing, out of curiosity and hope.
Our soil, our dirt, if it is tended well, with water, fertilizer, compost, and love, has the potential to produce so much goodness. But we know from experience that even when we think we are doing all the right things, weeds, pests, weather, critters, and even unintentional neglect can impact all that we hope is good and healthy.
If we are the soil, our soil can include seeds that are weeds. We can behave poorly, harmfully. And we can choose what we want to feed or what we want to pluck out and burn. We can do as the story taught and allow the weeds to grow with the wheat—the bad to co-mingle with the good, so to speak.
We can let weeds take over, smothering the fruit-bearing plants, or we can decide, sooner or later, to rip out, what is getting in the way of what is good.
It’s why we Confess most Sundays. The purpose of Confession is to share honestly with God about our sinful mistakes, bad choices, brokenness, and regret. It’s why we confess and apologize when we have made a mistake or hurt someone. Confession gives us the opportunity to recognize that we can grow weeds just as easily as we can grow flowers, vegetables, and fruits.
It’s why we receive Absolution from the priest or bishop after our Confession. The purpose of Absolution is to receive assurance of God’s forgiveness through the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ. It’s our way of knowing that even when weeds grow in our garden, we are still beloved children of a loving God.
It’s why we offer Prayers of the People. The purpose of the Prayers is to ask God’s blessing and provision for communities throughout the world. It is a time to pray for the worldwide church, for our nation, the world, our local community, for those who are suffering, and who have departed this mortal coil. It is our opportunity to recognize both the brokenness and joy found in the people and places we live and breathe and have our being. It is our chance to see the sometimes desperate need for God’s presence in the world.
It’s also why we offer the Peace to one another each Sunday. The purpose of the Peace is to share embodied signs of reconciliation. It’s our moment to acknowledge our failings toward—and ask for forgiveness from—those who we have treated poorly, hurt, or neglected. It’s also a time to accept apologies from others when we feel we are treated poorly, are hurt by someone’s behavior, or feel neglected. The Peace is our opportunity to move toward Communion with a renewed sense of both humility and of community.
This is what Jesus is teaching through his story. That we are imperfectly complex, capable of making mistakes and of making beauty, of growing poison ivy and of growing tomatoes and mystery squash. Even so, we are given the capacity to choose to accept that we are a little bit of everything, and sometimes we need to adapt, reconfigure, dig up, and replant to try again.
If we are to believe we are the soil in this story, we are to recognize that throughout our lives, the soil is fertile soil. We are a little bit of everything that has come before. The good stuff, the not-so-good stuff, the seeds we want and the seeds we don’t. We are made of it all, and we get to choose what we let grow.
I invite us all to sit quietly for a couple of minutes before we continue the service to consider the health of your soil. Where is the beauty? Where are the thorns? Who needs your apology? Who do you need to forgive? What will feed your soil—your soul—and provide you inner peace?
Let us pray.
Lord, as the poet wrote in today’s Psalm: you have searched us out and know each one of us; you know our sitting down and our rising up; you discern our thoughts from afar. Help us to turn our soil, soil that grows seeds of goodness, kindness, mercy, and grace, and help our soil provide the greatest nutrient of all: love. For you alone are God. You know our frailties and our fears; our generosity and all the good we have to offer. Help us to nurture what is pleasing to you. In your life-giving name we pray. Amen.
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