Pentecost 9, Proper 11, Year A

Wisdom, 12:13, 16-19
Romans, 8:18-2
Matthew, 13:24-30, 36-43

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In early June we had an evening class here on Anglican Spirituality. ⁽¹⁾ We began by recognizing that Anglicans tend to fall into three rough categories or parties: Catholics, Evangelicals, and Liberals. Each of these claims to be the 'real' heir of the classical Anglican tradition. And despite my personal identification with the Catholics, my profound belief, and deep self-interest, in the way of the Catholics, the truth, of course, is that each party has a valid claim and that each party makes an important contribution to our common life.

In sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the first couple centuries of the Church of England, before Anglicans considered themselves Anglicans, these groups emerged to influence the Church's self-understanding, to shape her identity. The catholic wing emphasized the need to preserve the three-fold, apostolic ordained ministry (bishops, priests, and deacons) and to retain spiritual and sacramental continuity with the early Church. They wanted to create a reformed, non-papal Catholicism without the medieval corruptions of Rome. The evangelical wing declared the scriptures to be the supreme authority and warned against placing absolute confidence in the external, visible institution of the Church as the guarantor of wholesome faith. And the liberal wing observed that the Church of England didn't confine itself to doctrinal or confessional statements of belief and that faith did not rest wholly on scripture and was open to the insights of scriptural criticism, reason, and experience.

Each of these three parties, while quite different in some ways, has much in common with the others and benefits from them. At least until recent decades, Anglicans of most varieties have generally had some qualities in common. One of the defining qualities of Anglican Christianity has been its skepticism, a belief, or maybe an instinct, that some doubt and reticence may deepen a lively faith.

There are two types of skepticism. One is a form of self-protection, a defense against being made to look like a fool. This type of skepticism come from a fear of being deceived. It encourages us to be reserved in expressing opinions and in committing ourselves. It's aloof. It comes from timidity. It doesn't trust. It doesn't allow for vulnerability. It's not open to growth. The ultimate purpose of this kind of skepticism is self-aggrandizing. This kind of skepticism doesn't build up our relationship with God.

The other kind of skepticism encourages doubt not to avoid looking like a fool, but because we know that we are often foolish. We should be skeptical not because of what others think of us, but because we often deceive ourselves, because our passions and our self-interest distort our judgment. This kind of skepticism - traditional Anglican skepticism - is self-questioning. Anglican skepticism encourages us to be reticent out of humility, because we get things wrong. Anglican skepticism recognizes that our interpretations are often wrong, and we need to rely upon history and upon community. A healthy spirituality requires us to be very patient, listening to others, being open to others, depending upon others. This kind of skepticism is essential for a dynamic, deep faith and for understanding scripture.

Today's gospel is a parable. The word 'parable' comes from the Greek word parabol, which means 'that which is tossed alongside,' implying a comparison or an illustration. ⁽²⁾ Jesus' parables come from nature or ordinary life, but they leave us "in sufficient doubt about their precise application." ⁽³⁾ Parables tease the mind and provoke thought. When we hear a parable, we naturally try to interpret them, to make sense of them. Jesus taught in parables because they make the hearers think and they make the hearers take responsibility for their own faith. Jesus wanted to challenge his followers, not lead them like dogs. Speakers who want to control their hearers don't use parables; they give simple, direct commands; they don't allow for ambiguity. ⁽⁴⁾

In his parables, Jesus doesn't tell us directly what to believe, what to do. Life is too complex, too full of subtlety and mystery and gray areas, for simple commands to guide us all of the time. Jesus' parables require us to interpret and to make decisions for ourselves. His parables are poetic, elusive, evocative. We receive insight and guidance only inasmuch as we engage with the parable. Jesus treats us like adults. He expects something from us; he's doesn't spoon-feed us. So, to some extent, the hearer determines the meaning of a parable and, thereby, internalizes it.

In today's parable, a man sowed good seed in his field, but his enemy came and sowed tares, a type of weed that looks like wheat. If the tares are not separated from the wheat and if the tares are milled with the wheat, the wheat flour will spoil. Before the wheat is harvested, the tares can not be pulled up - not only do they look like wheat, but their roots are intertwined with the good wheat. Pulling up tares would also pull up wheat and ruin the harvest. After the harvest, the reapers will separate the wheat from the tares. The wheat will be brought into the barn, and the tares burned.

In hearing the parable, we can find lots of meanings. It suggests two things we can expect in life following Christ. First, we should expect opposition. The good seed of the kingdom will exist alongside evil seed. The sower, the householder has an enemy, who tries to destroy the good. We can't be naive and deny a conflict between good and evil. Second, while we face opposition, we know that ultimately the good is victorious. There is justice. Evil will not prevail. Evil eventually burns away to nothingness.

The parable also suggests a couple of things about what God expects from us. First, the sower expects his good seed to yield good fruit. The wheat may be mixed together with the tares, but that is not an excuse to fail to multiply and bring forth fruit. Conflict and struggle must not prevent spreading the gospel. Indeed, throughout the ages, the Church has always been full of strife, and yet the Church has always brought forth more fruit. Second, the sower expects his servants not to try to separate the good wheat from the tares. The servants need to obey the sower and not judge. The servants can not determine what is wheat and what is weeds. The judgment is not ours.

When we read just the parable, the first half of today's gospel, it emphasizes our need for patience. It is God's place to judge, and he will do that in his time, on his schedule, not ours. He doesn't need us to help him judge. We'll make mistakes. I like to think that not only can we not distinguish between wheat and tares, but with God all things are possible. Is it not possible that some tares become wheat? Is that not how grace works? Is that not what we hope is our own story?

There's a natural human longing for clarity in our world. We want to identify and separate the wheat from the tares. We want to know who can be trusted and who should be ignored, who is favored by God and who is out of favor. We need to remember that Jesus' ministry was to all people, the good and the bad, the respectable and sinners, Pharisees as well as tax collectors and prostitutes and lepers. Consequently, the Church itself is a collection of good and bad. We're a mixed bunch because each one of us, to some extent, is a mixture of good and bad. We can't decide who's in and who's out. That's God's place, not ours.

This means that the Church has all types of people, those we think are righteous and those we think are unrighteous. We can be sure that our judgment is less than perfect, that we make mistakes, that we don't know the hearts of others, and not even do we know our own fully. Despite whatever confidence we may have in ourselves, the distinction between the wheat and tares is not obvious. Therefore, we need to be reticent and patient and to be full of charity and humility in our relations with all people. We have to be skeptical about ourselves. Our self-interest distorts our perceptions.

The second half of today's gospel is one of the rare instances where Jesus provides an interpretation of one of his parables, and his interpretation both adds to the richness of the parable and changes the emphasis of the parable. His interpretation doesn't disqualify what has been said about our need for patience and reticence and forbearance. Rather it sounds another theme - a warning. Jesus emphasizes that judgment is an inescapable reality. At the end of time, the good and evil will be separated, the good to be with God and the evil to burn into nothingness.

Jesus' primary interest is not the future. It's the present. He spoke about the reality, the nearness of judgment so we'd take the present seriously. If we take judgment seriously, our lives change, our present reality changes. The future has implications and meanings for the present. The future reality means that we need to make a decision now, and at every moment, for God, for the gospel, for love, for hope. If we take God's future judgment seriously, we're far more likely to obey him now. We'll share the gospel and try to bear fruit. We'll not judge one another, but treat everyone we meet as a fellow son of God.

The parable alone implies that we need to be patient. God makes the judgment about who's in and who's out. We shouldn't get involved. Our job is to wait patiently. Jesus' interpretation of the parable, however, implies that we should be impatient about changing our own behavior. The urgency is not for us to judge other people, not to separate the good from the evil 'out there.' The urgency is for every person individually to judge himself, embracing the good and casting out the evil.

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

1. In the first five paragraphs, the substance comes from Love's Redeeming Work, Geoffrey Rowell, Kenneth Stevenson, Rowan Williams, eds., OUP (2001), pp. xxii-xxxiii.

2. Fred Craddock, Luke, John Knox Press (1990), p. 108.

3. C.H. Dodd quoted by Craddock., p. 108.

4. Craddock, p. 109.