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Exploring the word

19 Jul 2020 - Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

The kingdom of heaven is like a child accompanying her mother to the mall. As the mother peruses the rack of dresses, the little girl spies a basket of cheap bangles glittering on a low table under the phosphorescent lights. “Can I have one?” the girl cries. To keep her daughter amused while she shops, the mother replies, “Yes, but only if you find one that fits.” The child immediately commits herself to the task of trying on every bangle in the basket. First she extends her arm in the air and slips on a red one, followed by a purple one, and then a gold one, until there are some dozens of bracelets covering her arm from her wrist to above her elbow. Then she lowers her arm, and the row of shiny hoops slip easily over her small hand and crash into a pile on the floor. Her lips tremble with the threat of impending sobs. The bracelets are simply too large. But she does not cry. Instead, she sits down on the carpeted floor and examines the sparkling jewelry intently for a long time. Then, taking off her shoe, she slides the bangles one by one over her foot until her leg is adorned from ankle to knee. Replacing the shoe, she stands and dances around, the metal hoops producing jangling music. “Mommy!” she cries. “They fit!” Hidden in plain view Follow children around for an hour and you’ll witness a parable or two in action. They seem to invent them with every step. As Jesus noted, children are the natural heirs of the Kingdom and seem to have an instinct for how Kingdom reality ought to go. All it takes to enter a parable of your own is a bit of imagination, a willingness to see familiar things in a new way, and determination to achieve your prize. It could be a harvest, a pearl, or something as simple as a loaf of bread that you’re after. But even in the case of a loaf of bread, it takes imagination to believe that a spoonful of yeast could make a bowl of flour rise into new and greater life. A friend offers this parable about driving along a highway with her granddaughter in the back seat. The child had been silent for a while, and the grandmother naturally assumed she was sleeping. But suddenly, from the back seat came this mystical declaration from the little girl: “The diamonds are coming, and the rubies are going,” she said. With great authority. What could it mean? The grandmother, intent on the traffic all around her, could not give this much thought. It was a Sunday night; the six-lane freeway was a streaming sea of cars heading in both directions, all the drivers intent on getting to their respective destinations. The grandmother had to be mindful of the road. There was no time to engage her granddaughter in fanciful conversations about treasure. The diamonds may well be coming and the rubies going—but the grandmother had to keep her eyes on the road. And then, all at once, she saw it: the headlights streaming toward her in the three left lanes, and the taillights ahead of her in the three right lanes. The diamonds were coming, and the rubies were going. For those who had eyes to see, the night was not a tiresome ocean of relentless traffic, but a treasure to be wondered at. We see what we believe Popular wisdom tells us that seeing is believing. But to those of faith, believing is also a way of seeing. What we believe opens our eyes to the same old world in new and life-giving—even life-saving—ways. In fact, I would go so far as to say that how we view reality is more significant than the reality we are viewing. How we interpret events—with hope or cynicism, with compassion or blame—determines the outcome of the events themselves. Do we see the mustard seed as absurdly insignificant, or do we dream of the day when it will be a tree large enough to shelter birds in its branches? How we look at social problems, or our own relationships, shapes our perspective on what has been done and can be done to heal them. Those who insist that nothing can be done will likely do nothing to solve them. Whereas those who trust that an answer exists are much more likely to find one. This is not to say that the Kingdom itself is a fantasy that we might dream into being with enough imagination. To say that “believing is seeing” means we acknowledge the role that attitude, intention, and will play in the story of human history. For the one who views life as a web spun around us in which we are hopelessly caught fast, there is not much incentive to struggle toward freedom. Yet human liberty is presupposed by Kingdom reality. The householder who sows good seed is free to do so, as well as the enemy who comes at night to sow weeds. The original sower has many choices to make in his response to this attack, and what he chooses—to leave the sorting for the final harvest—is crucial. If he had chosen retaliation on his enemy, or a premature uprooting, much would have been lost in his own planting. The householder trusts the process; which is to say, God trusts divine justice and judgment. Do we? Applying the word Seeing with Kingdom eyes Developing our ability to see as God sees requires, above all, patience. It takes time for the wheat and weeds to grow toward harvest time, just as it will be a while before that mustard seed produces a tree with branches capable of harboring songbirds. Even bread cannot be coaxed to rise any faster than it does. All of the images Jesus uses speak against impulsive action. The justice of God is mixed with clemency, as the Book of Wisdom reminds us. That’s a delicate mixture, and if we are not entirely sure of the components of divine judgment, we ought not to try this at home. Leave the judging to God, Jesus tells us. In the meantime, look for the diamonds and rubies all along the way. Related scripture links Imminence of the Kingdom: Mark 1:15; Matt. 3:2, 4:17, 5:3-11, 6:10; Luke 4:18-21, 17:20-21 Belief more powerful than appearances: Mark 10:51-52, 11:22-24; Matt. 17:19-20; Luke 11:9-13; John 14:12-14; 2 Cor. 5:7 Patience as a Kingdom virtue: Luke 21:19; Gal. 5:22-23; Rom. 8:25 Judgment is God’s: Isa. 28:6, 30:18; Matt. 5:21-41, 7:1-2, 10:12-15, 42, 12:36-37; Luke 3:17; Rom. 2:1-8

Authors Alice Camille

mustard seed separate the wheat from the weeds

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Homily stories

19 Jul 2020 - Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

My wife and I were young and naïve when we bought our first house. We moved into it in early spring, and soon discovered that the woman who owned the house before us had been a wonderful gardener. Each new day of spring seemed to reveal another flower, plant, or shrub coming to life. Luckily, the neighbors living on either side of our house were patient with us. These elderly couples were themselves great gardeners and, after watching us mishandle the garden chores for a while, began to offer gentle advice and instruction. My favorite memory is the day Olga leaned over the fence and said with a kind smile, “You know, that tall plant you keep watering every day? That one’s a weed.” And not only was I feeding the weeds, I was also yanking plants that, if they had been left to grow, would have blossomed into brilliant flowers. Today’s gospel talks about weeds and wheat and how to handle them. We all need spiritual neighbors who have learned a thing or two about the weeds and the wheat and how they crop up in our lives. Listen to the people who know. Cultivate sources of wisdom in your life—the sacraments, good spiritual reading, daily prayer—and pay attention to them. Because life isn’t just a bed of roses.

Authors Tom McGrath

Wisdom gardening separate the wheat from the weeds

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Homily stories

19 Jul 2020 - Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

Some Americans alive today can still recall the horror of Senator Joseph McCarthy’s paranoid hunt for communist infiltrators in the 1940s and ’50s, which ruined or stalled the careers of dozens of writers and entertainers who were labeled communist sympathizers. Only a handful of brave souls were willing to stand up against McCarthy and his anti-communist machine. Though most people objected to the senator’s intimidation tactics of insinuations and innuendos, few wanted to risk the severe consequences of going against him. Ironically, McCarthy and his minions had become like the enemy they feared: oppressive and destructive. The lesson of McCarthyism, which is the lesson of the Salem witch trials and the Spanish Inquisition, is that there is no easy way to separate the wheat from the weeds; leave it for the harvesters at the end of the age, Jesus advises us in today’s gospel, and in the meantime busy yourself with being a good seed. Those who try to sort out the sinners from the saints among us invariably get it wrong at least once or twice and end up condemning servants of God. What’s worse, in their zealous pursuit of evildoers, they may cause others to sin, which, in Jesus’ mind, is an evil in itself. A simple rule of thumb for every generation: Leave the weeding to the wiser One, please.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

mccarthyism judgment separate the wheat from the weeds

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Homily stories

19 Jul 2020 - Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

In one of the more affluent suburbs of Chicago, in front of an expensive home, there is a front yard that looks uncared for and virtually abandoned. It has made the news because the new owner has taken out the green, unmowed lawn and let the yard revert back to its natural, prairie state. This was done much to the chagrin of the neighbors who consider it to be an eyesore and a blight to the entire community. Next to their trimmed bushes and landscaped lawns, it looks strikingly different and a little wild. There are no lack of critics, not only of gardens and yards, but also of human behavior. They are quick to pass judgment about other people’s actions and preferences. They feel they are right no matter what anyone else says. And they want to set their way as the standard that all are expected to follow and aspire to live by. In so doing, they run the risk of throwing out what might be good with what they consider weeds. We are all of us human. We should let God be the judge of our actions. We have enough to do worrying about ourselves without trying to judge others at the same time.

Authors Father Dominic Grassi

judgment separate the wheat from the weeds

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