Mtthw 13:24-30;
July 20, 2008
Rmns 8:18-25
Patrick Preheim
Thistle, Dill, and other Character Flaws
I have spent my fair share of time this summer on my knees. This posture has
been more pragmatic than pious. I am talking about weeding. Weeds-- let me tell
you about my garden and the curse of Adam (Gen 3:17-19). The weeds require
constant vigilance. If I leave for a week-- say a Mennonite Conference in
Winnipeg—I find the thistle, dill, quack grass, and even the raspberries have
tightened their circle around the plants I have seeded, and threaten to cut off
their water and light. I have learned to be grateful, however, that I do not yet
do battle with the dreaded “portulaca”. On two visits this week I heard hosts
bemoan the invasive quality of that little “seed of the enemy” (to quote our
scripture) which can fill a garden space. Unchecked, each of these little weed
monsters have the capability to destroy a potentially fruitful vegetable garden.
John Elias even recalled a low German folk song commenting on the unending work
of weeding. Ever the one to include arts and world languages in worship I asked
him to share it with us [John’s piece]. [Patrick loosely translates ballad after
John finishes]. My guess is that many of us have spent time on our knees this
summer taking care of the various weeds mentioned in this song. Gardens, church,
society and our souls are all fields in which there is a balance between weeds
and wheat. Weeds are unproductive elements that deplete nutrients from the soil
and choke out wheat. Wheat, naturally, is that which sustains us and bless
others-- it is the key ingredient of a communion loaf. As we witness this
struggle between wheat and tares in ourselves and the world there are a couple
of lessons for us from Matthew’s parable.
Lesson one is that weeds are a part of life. I have seen how meticulously some
keep their gardens and hear some silent gasps: “Weeds?, in my garden?, in me?”
Unless you garden and live in Eden you better believe that like me you have
weeds. We are God’s field who are filled both with seeds of the Kingdom as well
as weeds sown by God’s enemy. We can neither expect perfection from ourselves or
others. If you are a perfectionist, get over it. Our imperfections, or the
imperfections of others, should not paralyze us. One piece of good news from
this parable is that God accepts us as we are—weeds and all. God has sown in us
seeds of the kingdom and will not jeopardize that potential on account of a few
weeds. Darnel, the particular weed alluded to in our parable (Robert Capon, The
Parables of the Kingdom, p101; Richard Gardner, Matthew- Believers Church Bible
Commentary, 214), might help us understand the fine line between seed and weed
present in any garden.
Darnel is a poisonous plant that looks nearly identical to wheat when the plants
are young. Robert Capon, an Anglican Priest, rightly wonders about the
similarity between this weed and wheat, poison and promise (ibid). We see the
fine line in our souls and in society. There are many things in our world which
pass themselves off as spiritually satisfying which, in fact, are sheer poison.
This poison cloaks itself as joy and blessing because most people tend to avoid
toxic elements. Christian spiritual writer Richard Rohr reflects, “Evil and
darkness have only one way to influence our life and take control of it. They
have to disguise themselves” (Richard Rohr, Experiencing the Enneagram, p. 5).
Most advertising promises us contentment, wealth, beauty or affection if we but
try their product. If I subscribe to the Rogers phone plan I will be a business
success or favourably impress potential mates. If I drive a certain car all my
worries will disappear. On the surface this may look a bit like something that
can sustain me, but it is only an appearance of something nourishing. In the end
it will poison me and other consumers of the toxic weed.
While it might be easy to take shots at the advertizing world I want also to
consider the narrow distinction between good seed and weed within us.
Spiritualists through the centuries have understood that the conflict between
weed and wheat is as much internal as external. Ironically, our strengths can be
our greatest weaknesses and vice versa. Our wheat, if not properly tended, can
become a tare. And our weeds, as the children’s time noted, can become something
useful. Richard Rohr puts is more poetically: “Our sin and our gift are two
sides of the same coin. To see the one we must simultaneously see the
other...And when our sin has been transformed and redeemed, it will become our
greatest gift” (Richard Rohr, Experiencing the Enneagram, p. 8). God does not
want to root out the tares within us because in the miraculous world of the
Kingdom these tares can be transformed into wheat. Ralph Waldo Emmerson, a life
long gardener, once said “that a weed is simply a plant whose virtues we haven’t
yet discovered” (quoted in Michael Pollan’s “Weeds are Us” From Second Nature: A
Gardener’s Education reprinted in Summer: A Spiritual Biography of the Season,
75). Weeds are a reality, and most of us fail to understand the power of God to
bring something good from a weed. The manner with which God approaches the weeds
of our parable is also constructive and the second lesson of our parable.
Lesson Two explores weed control in God’s field. In this parable God chooses the
unconventional method of inactivity to address a weed infestation. The servants
of the sower want to barrel into the field pulling plants in an effort to create
a garden without “spot or blemish” (Ep 5:27). The household owner has a
different tactic-- do nothing. Michael Pollan, author of An Omnivore’s Dilemma
and part time gardener, can attest to the futility of attacking certain plants.
I quote from an essay of his.
I was prepared to tolerate the fleabane, holding aloft their sunny clouds of tiny...flowers, or milkweed, with its interesting seedpods, but bully weeds like burdock, Canada thistle, and [brennestle] had to go. Unfortunately, the weeds I liked least proved to be the best armed and most recalcitrant. Burdock, whose giant clubfoot leaves shade out every other plant for yards around, holds the earth in a death grip. Straining to pull out its mile-long taproot, you feel like a boy trying to arm-wrestle a man. Inevitably the root breaks before it yields, with the result that, in a few days’ time, you have two tough burdocks where before there had been one. All I seemed able to do was help my burdock reproduce. I felt less like an exterminator of these weeds than their midwife. That pretty vine with the morning glory blossoms turned out to be another hydra-headed monster. Bindweed, as it’s called, grows like kudzu and soon threatened to blanket the entire garden...Here too my efforts at eradication proved counterproductive...put a hoe to it and it breaks into a dozen pieces, each of which will sprout an entire new plant. It is as though the bindweed’s evolution took the hoe into account. By attacking it at its root—the approved strategy for eradicating most weeds—I played right into the insidious bindweed’s strategy for world domination. Michael Pollan’s “Weeds are Us” From Second Nature: A Gardener’s Educatio;n reprinted in Summer: A Spiritual Biography of the Season, 78-79)
I will grant that the “practice of not pulling out weeds until harvest is no
way to run a farm...[S]uch neglect insures [a]...choking out of the good plants
[and]...guarantees a bumper crop of unwanted weed seeds to plague the next
season’s planting” (Robert Capon, The Parables of the Kingdom, p97). Yet, as
Michael Pollan can attest, there are some weeds which need a different touch.
What do we do with those nasty weeds called resentment, manipulation, jealousy,
self contempt or the other blights in our gardens? It seems the more vigorously
we hack at some of these weeds the more pervasive they become. And what do we do
with a thistle called Robert Mugabe or Omar Hassan al-Bashir (who share some of
the qualities found in the plant species called Saddam Hussein)? It seems this
kind of weed has roots that run deep and spread out of control if not handled
well. All these internal and external weeds cry out for attention lest they ruin
our lives and world, and the question is what kind of action will that be.
Ironically, our parable suggests inactivity (like the householder) rather than
aggressive pulling (like the servants) as the route to go. I want to give three
examples of what inactivity might look like in relation to the weeds I just
mentioned.
The first is the way of subtraction (via nagativa). There are certain things we
can’t fix regardless of how many things we try. I can’t make myself holy and I
can’t make myself worthy. Adding more spiritual disciplines or adding more
troops to Khandahar province will not bring peace. There is hope, however. God
can bring peace to my soul and peace to people regardless of the politics of
their government. I simply need to subtract things from my life and
consciousness so that I can see me the way God sees me. God loves me. God loves
you. And sometimes we need to subtract all our busyness to hear that message.
“[M]ost of the great world religions have discovered the same three exercises of
fasting, almsgiving, and prayer. All three are ways of letting go, ways of
subtraction, not addition. Fasting means letting go of what my body thinks it
absolutely needs; almsgiving means letting go of what my thirst for security
thinks it needs; and real prayer...means letting go of what my understanding and
emotions think they need. [We] need to practice this, because prayer too has
been turned into a spirituality of addition, instead of a spirituality of
subtraction” (Richard Rohr, Experiencing the Enneagram, p. 7-8). What would
happen if we subtracted our troops, arms shipments, and markets from the
national leaders who behave badly—a type of global time out? What would happen
if we could curb our desires so that we only bought locally produced goods? What
would happen if we subtracted one television show a week so that we could simply
meditate on God’s love? I will tell you what might happen, weeds might become
wheat.
A second example of inactivity is singing. I know singing is active, but we
don’t tend to view it as such. And believe it or not, singing can change a weed
into something good. During a worship service at the Mennonite Church Canada
sessions a little over a week ago music guru Marilyn Houser Hamm said something
profound. She said South Africa was not liberated from apartheid through
political action, demonstrations, or armed revolution. It was freed through
music. At funerals, family gatherings and in public places people sang. These
songs bound them together and reinforced their awareness of God’s presence.
Music enabled them to steadfastly resist the giant pig weed known as apartheid.
Another illustration of music changing lives comes from Whoville. In the
timeless Sues classic “How the Grinch stole Christmas”, it is the song of the
burglarized Whos which melts the heart of the Grinch. Music changes lives,
attitudes, and politics. So if you are discouraged, surround yourself with and
sing songs from camp Shekinah, or songs from HWB, or songs that are otherwise
grounded in the transformative power of God.
A final action of inactivity comes directly from our parable. The first word of
verse 30 in most of our English bibles is translated as “let”. This is, however,
but one choice for a translator of the Greek text. In the New Testament this
first word of v. 30 appears 156 times, and in a third of the cases the scholars
chose a different translation. That other choice is “forgive”, as in forgive us
our sins as we forgive those who sin against us (Robert Capon, The Parables of
the Kingdom, p106). With legitimacy the first section of verse 30 could be
translated, “Forgive, so that both can grow in the same company until the
harvest”. Forgiveness is powerful non-action. It can change individuals and
societies. The Amish of Nickel Mines, PA (USA) can attest to the healing and
power of the inactive response of forgiveness (see Amish Grace: How Forgiveness
Transcended Tragedy) .
I acknowledge that sometimes even our inactivity will not lead to a conversion
in ourselves, those we love, or people of the world. Meditation, songs, or
forgiveness do not guarantee a conversion of the weeds. Sometimes healing will
only come in the life to come. Creation itself, we are told, groans while it
waits for redemption. Let us take comfort from the assurance that the Spirit
helps us in our weakness, that the Spirit intercedes for us, and that in all
things God works for good. Our God is master of creation and the garden. Our God
will tend to all things in the present world and in the age to come. Amen.
JEMIES
VEGETABLES
[a more-or-less literal translation into English without any attempt
at rhyming or conveying the beauty of the original—John Elias]
De Somma enn ons Goade doa waust sou väl Jemies,
In summer, in our garden, so many vegetables grew,
Riddiestje, Dell en Sucka Schoute, Schauble, Sipple, Peas,
Radishes, dill and sugar peas, beans, onions, peas,
Bloume Kommst en aundra Kommst jebruckt toum Kommstborscht koake,
Flower cabbage (cauliflower) and the other cabbage which is
used to cook cabbage borscht,
Jalmeare en Postanak en Tjarps toum Tjarpspei moake.
Carrots and parsnips, and pumpkins to make pumpkin pie.
Oba Onkrut wia sou väl eendount waut wie uck deede,
But weeds were (always) so many (plentiful), no matter what
we did,
Emma wort ons dan jeschetjt "na Jung dan go doch weede."
Therefore we were always sent (ordered), “Hey, boy, then go
weeding.”
Päpakrut en Peetaselje, Erbüze en Meloune,
Summer savoury and parsley, watermelon and melons,
Bockeljhonne en Sche'ssnikj, Sse'lot en groute Boone,
Tomatoes and garlic, lettuce and big beans,
Gurkje wiare seeja väl, tjleene en uck groute
Cucumbers were very plentiful, small ones and also big ones.
Beete, Wrucke, Eadschocke, en Korn en Papaschoute.
Beets, turnips, potatoes, and corn and pepper pods.
Fatehahn en Säajenkool, Tauschtjekrut en Kjwäakj,
Portulaca and sow thistle, stinkweed and quackgrass,
Musste hacke mank daut Krut, sas Doag enn 'e Wäatj,
We had to hack (hoe) among those weeds, six days of the week,
Willahadritj, Säajelkrut, Loodikj en Driekaunt
Wild mustard, sourdock, sourdock (two LG words for the same
weed) and buckwheat,
Willa Howa wou daut waust daut es junt gout bekaunt.
Wild oats, where that grows, that’s well known to you.
Tjeestjekrut en Buttabloume en dan noch Schwaunshoble,
Pineappleweed and buttercup (or marigold), and then yet
foxtail,
Emma tjemmt doa meeja Krut dee Distel es misrobel
Always more weeds come, the thistle is miserable.
Tjraikt sou senn wie Mensche uck, jieda dach em Läwe,
Just so are we people also, every day of our lives,
Aul daut Unkrut tjemmt von selvst, doaweijen mott wie schträwe.
All those weeds come of their own, therefore we must
(constantly) strive.
Du hast Fäla, etj ha Fäla, Fäla ha wie aula,
You have flaws, I have flaws, all of us have flaws,
Weede mott wie jieda dach, de waich es mau 'en schmaula.
So every day we must be weeding, for narrow is the way.