Pastor Mark

Weeds, Wheat, God's Work and Ours

Weeds, Wheat, God's Work and Ours
Pastor Mark Havel

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

[Jesus] put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may compared to somebody who sowed good seed in his field, but while everybody was asleep an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went away, so that when the plants grew and put forth grain, the weeds appeared as well. So the slaves said to the householder, “Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where then did these weeds come from?” He replied, “An enemy has done this.” They said to him, “Do you want us to go out and gather them?” He said, “No, for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat, as well. Let them grow together until the harvest and at the harvest I will tell my reapers, ‘Go and collect the weeds first and bind them into bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”

Then Jesus left the crowds and went into the house. His disciples came and said to him, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He said to them, “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 evildoer; 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 thrown into the fire to be burned, so it will be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels to collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers and they will be thrown into 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!”


Many of you know I spent the week before last with a dozen of our high school youth, over in Ohio. Most of our time was spent at Bellwether Farm, an Episcopal camp and retreat center, that includes a fully operational farm with pigs and goats and cattle and chickens. (One of the sows gave birth to her first litter of 11 piglets the night before we arrived, which was pretty cool.) They also grow a lot of the food, which they serve to guests and campers by way of their farm-to-table kitchen – and very capable and skilled chef, Kevin.

So, while we fed some pigs, collected eggs from the chickens, and milked a goat, our first farm chore of the week was to pull weeds – so many weeds – from around the pepper plants growing in one of the very wet fields behind our sleeping quarters. I couldn’t help but think of this when I got back to reality and this parable of the weeds of the field was on deck for this morning. We experienced, first-hand, what the householder in Jesus’ parable was talking about when he warned against uprooting the good stuff along with the weeds.

First of all, most of us needed to be told very clearly about what we were to pull and what we were to leave behind – what the pepper plants looked like and what the weeds were; and that it was actually okay to pull the stray tomato plants that had made their way into the plot of peppers, too. Secondly, it had rained so much the week before we arrived at the farm that – the soft soil was so wet – that it was very easy to “uproot the good plants along with the weeds,” if you weren’t very careful. In fact, if you were doing it right, you almost had to hold the good plants you wanted to leave in the ground with one hand, while pulling the weeds around them out with the other. (I learned after-the-fact that some of us were better at that than others.)

My wife will be the first to tell you, I’m not much of a gardener. I’ll water a plant when I’m asked. I will pull weeds in the mulch around the flower beds at my house. But gardening isn’t my thing as much as it is hers. I certainly wouldn’t mess around with weeding someone else’s garden, without an invitation and very clear instructions, like the ones at the farm with the kids, because I’d have a hard time knowing what I should pull up and what I should throw away and what I should leave well enough alone.

And that’s something like what Jesus’ parable is all about this morning.

His disciples want to know about how they should handle this allegorical, cosmic sort of weeding project he was describing. We know – and the disciples finally figure out – that the weeds in Jesus’ story represent the evil that springs up in the world, and Jesus wants them – and us – to think about those weeds – and all the sin and evil they represent – differently than we’re inclined to most of the time.

What I mean is, our first intention, our first temptation, our first desire, too often, is to determine who is or what are to be considered “weeds” and who is or what are to be considered “good seed.” When we talk about heaven and hell, about the end of time, about the coming of God’s kingdom, about “the harvest” as it were – our great desire is to be on the right side of that proverbial fence; to be on the winning team; to choose up sides, so that we aren’t one of the ones who gets “left behind.”

And this leads to even greater and scarier temptations. Temptations to point fingers and decide who’s right and who’s wrong. Temptations to make decisions about who’s worthy and who’s not. Temptations to judge – by our standards – who’s good or bad, who’s saved or damned, who’s forgiven or not, who’s welcome or not, who’s loved or loveable or whatever, or not.

And we know how ugly this can become. In Jesus’ time, it was the Pharisees who did a lot of the finger-pointing. They worried about who was eating what, or who was working on the Sabbath, or who wasn’t following the law to the letter. These were well-intended, God-fearing, faithful people and based on their fears and worries, they pretended to determine who should be in and who should be out.

And, while the Pharisees get a bad rap so much of the time, we don’t have to look very hard to find instances in our world – or in our own circles – or in our own heart of hearts – where people take it upon themselves to make decisions about who should be in and who should be out – decisions about “pulling weeds from wheat,” as Jesus might say.

- The Ohio and Indiana highways to and from my road trip with the kids last week are littered with billboards warning drivers to repent, to get ready, to follow Jesus or else – to “turn or burn” like so many weeds, I suppose.

- Someone set an Israeli flag on fire in Zionsville a week and a half ago, in what looks like a hate crime, they say.

- Our Lieutenant Governor has doubled-down on his disdain for Muslim people and their calls to prayer.

- Too many Christian denominations continue to treat women like weeds, preventing them from preaching or leading in meaningful ways. The list goes on…

So what I hear in Jesus’ parable is that there are too many of us choosing not to grow alongside too many others of us. And I believe Jesus is challenging us with this parable, to remember that weeding the field of God’s world is not our work to do; it’s not our garden to tend; it’s not our Kingdom to cultivate, all by ourselves.

Whether we do it out of fear or out of love… out of genuine concern or out of ignorance… with all the Biblical scholarship and well-reasoned theology or not, Jesus tells us that this sort of thing is not our job, when it comes to the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus tells us God is the one – “The Son of Man will send his angels” he says, and then “at the end of the age.” What that means to me – at the very least – is that we’re to leave the weed pulling and the weeping and the gnashing of teeth, for another time – and to more capable hands.

Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting we “live and let live” to the point that the weeds of hatred, intolerance, racism, willful ignorance, and injustice are given a pass for the sake of “going along to get along.” I’m not suggesting we bury our heads in the sand … that we live and let live … and leave well enough alone. I’m saying that we may not have weeds to pull, but there are other chores to tend to: there are pigs to feed, and eggs to collect, and goats to milk. There are churches to build, people to feed, neighbors to love, and enemies to forgive.

I’m hopeful that the good seeds of the work of justice, love, and grace; the good seeds of mercy, forgiveness, and transformation, will grow boldly and bravely, faithfully and resiliently alongside all of those weeds – in spite of all of those weeds – and until all of the world’s weeds – are transformed to bear fruit worthy of God’s Kingdom “on earth as it is in heaven.”

That is hard, holy work for sure. And some of us – people of privilege, mostly – have some heavy lifting to do, in this regard.

If the weed is racism, those who benefit from racist systems have some growing alongside to do…

If the weed is sexism, good men in our culture have some growing alongside to do…

If the weeds are willful ignorance, intolerance, systemic injustice, or greed, many of us have some learning, and repenting, and growing alongside to do…

And this “growing alongside” is hard and holy because it looks like humility and change and forgiveness and persistence. And it is God’s call to the Church, because it is much more Christ-like than all the world’s weeping and gnashing of teeth can muster. It’s harder to “grow alongside” … and to bear fruit among the weeds … and to trust that God’s way of grace will win the day. But I believe it will, in the end, for the sake of the world. I believe we can do this work precisely because God’s grace has – already – won the day, through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Amen

Unburdened for Mission

Unburdened for Mission
Pastor Mark Havel

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

[Jesus said,] “But to what shall I compare this generation? They are like children in the market places, calling, ‘We played he flute for you and you would not dance. We wailed and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking and they said, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking and they said, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard. A friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ Yet, wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”

At that time, Jesus said, “I thank you Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and you have revealed them to children, for such was your gracious will. All things, in heaven and on earth, have been handed over to me by my Father. For no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”

“Come to me all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”


Can you think of a time recently when a burden was lifted for you? Or when your load was lightened in some way – literally or figuratively? Maybe it was a worldly, practical kind of lifting… or maybe it was a deeper, more spiritual sort of unloading you needed…

I’m getting ready to leave for the summer trip with the High School Youth tomorrow morning. We’re heading to Ohio, stopping by Capital University for a tour of my favorite Lutheran college campus, we’ll spend a couple of days working, learning, and unplugging on a farm, north of there, then we’ll have a day at Cedar Point before coming home. Pastor Cogan did the initial, heavy-lifting of setting the itinerary, renting the van, reserving the rooms, and what-not before taking off for his paternity leave. And I’ve been grateful for that as the trip has gotten closer.

Dianne Kaucher has agreed to be here on Wednesday to make sure things are ready when the kids show up for our Summer Reading Program, since I can’t be here. And on Friday, Donna Kuffner said she’d take care of getting the snacks for that day, knowing I had a lot on my plate getting ready to be gone.

Many of you’ve heard that our annual Camp @ Church program canceled on us and I’ve been grateful for those of you who’ve offered to step up and help me make that program happen, anyway.

And I’m grateful for every e-mail and decision Lance Oxley deals with where the building project is concerned, and every time I see Kent Kuffner mowing the labyrinth, or Steve Beebe digging a ditch, or Gayle gathering the troops for our 25th Anniversary festival, or any number of you cleaning the building. The list goes on. You get the idea.

It’s nice, isn’t it, when something gets removed from your litany of things to do? It’s a gift to move something from your full plate onto someone else’s. It’s a relief to be unburdened, to have someone help carry the weight of a task at hand or to remove a worry from you list. Which is what I hear in Jesus’ words from this morning’s Gospel. And, he’s talking about more, of course, than what’s on our everyday lists of things to do.

The passage seems disconnected, you might think, with all that talk about children in the marketplaces who play the flute but no one dances, or who wail but no one mourns. And when he talks about John the Baptist who was thought to be possessed by demons, because he didn’t eat and drink like so many others. But that when Jesus did the opposite – ate and drank like the rest of the world, with tax collectors and sinner, even – they called him a glutton and a drunk.

Jesus is comparing the people of his generation to little children, playing games with their faith. People didn’t like John because he didn’t eat and drink like the rest of them. And they didn’t like Jesus because he did. In other words, the people of his time were fickle and played around with notions of what God was, with who the Messiah might be, with what salvation was supposed to look like or who heaven could include.

And there’s nothing new under the sun, sadly. Christians and people of faith do the same, still. We add up sins – our own and those of others. We judge – ourselves and one another. We compare. We choose sides. We pick winners and we declare losers. We can be a fickle, faithless, lot of God’s children.

And just like even Jesus experienced, we realize, too often, that we don’t live up to the world’s standards and expectations. And we may have a hard time living up to the unrealistic expectations we’ve laid out for ourselves, a lot of the time, too.

So, heavier than anything on our “To Do Lists,” we bear these expectations like yokes – those heavy wooden bars laid across the shoulders of oxen and asses and other beasts of burden who plowed the fields in the days of Jesus. And we bear them, not just over our shoulders or across our backs, but in our hearts and in our minds and in every part of our lives:

Yokes of breaking or broken relationships…

Burdens of guilt or shame or sin…

Yokes of addiction…

Burdens of illness and disease…

Yokes of injustice, burdens of inadequacy, yokes of fear and worry…

And this way of living is tedious and overbearing. It’s tiresome and overwhelming. It’s impossible, really. And it’s enough to wear a person out, to wipe out a person’s spirit, to dry up a person’s soul.

And what we long for – whether we know it or not, or whether we’re slow to admit it – is for someone to call or stop by and to say, “Hey, let me get that for you?” “Why are you trying to do my job?” “I told you I would help, so why aren’t you letting me?” And along comes this Jesus.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Jesus knew we would try too hard, for too long, for too many of the things that would continue to leave us hungry and thirsty and without answers, without comfort, without satisfaction and without any kind of meaning or peace in this life.

Most of all, Jesus understood how tiring and weary and burdensome it could be for us to try to save us from ourselves, so he promises to do that for us. Jesus calls us to rest in the arms of God’s grace and to quit trying to win in the eyes of the world. And he shows us we can do that best when we know and believe and trust that we’ve already been won by the love of God, the Lord of heaven and earth.

But that’s not all. It doesn’t end there.

Because Pastor Cogan did so much of the planning for the High School trip… Because Donna picked up those snacks… Because Dianne will be here Wednesday… Because so many of you are committed to this new Camp @ Church mission… my plans, my agenda, my To-Do List? – it didn’t go away – it just changed, for the better.

I could finish a sermon, sooner than expected this week. I could take communion to someone at home. I could prepare devotions for the Youth Trip. I could begin planning new stuff for Camp. And I even found time for a break. And finished a book, too. I’m not gonna lie.

When someone lifts a burden for or from you, it frees you to do something else. Even if it’s just a matter of hours in your day, you’re all of a sudden freed up to accomplish something else in its place. And the freedom we have through God’s forgiveness in Jesus Christ is no different.

Jesus calls us to trust that the burden of our sin and shame is lifted, as far as our Creator is concerned, so that we’ll be free to get about the business of living differently as a result. We are unburdened. We are un-yoked. We are un-tethered from whatever weighed us down. And we are let loose on the world – set free – changed by God’s grace – and allowed to transform the world with acts of mercy, generosity, grace, gratitude, and the love of God, in return.

Amen