23 July 2023 – Eighth Sunday after Pentecost
Below is a TRANSCRIPT of the homily. It may vary considerably from the prepared version. Please do not cite without permission.
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in thy sight. Oh God, mother and father of us all. Amen. Please be seated.
As some of you know, a couple of months ago, I fell and broke my wrist. In the early days of my healing, I received an email from a dear friend, with whom I have spent hours talking about our relationship with God and God’s relationship with us. Along with her commiserating that she suggested I had a couple of options to consider. One option was that I could just wallow in my pain. The second option was that I could use this time of pain and healing to develop a deeper relationship with God. As I have said publicly several times, since receiving this email, I hated both of her suggestions. Find God amidst all this pain, nonsense. Then a couple of days later, when my pain truly seemed unbearable, the thought came to me. Gosh, what I’m feeling now is nothing compared to the pain that Jesus felt on the cross. You know, whispered a voice in my ear.
You could use this time to develop a better relationship, a deeper relationship with God. Another day when I was speaking with a friend, I felt a sharp pang of irritation when she didn’t seem to understand what I was saying. I said to myself, poor Jesus, he may have felt something like this when his disciples struggle to understand the meaning of his teachings. Hmm. I said to myself, closer relationship to God. Maybe. So, come along with me to a quiet room, where after Jesus has finished teaching and preaching for the morning, he and his followers gathered for their midday. Midday Meal is blessedly cool in the room after the blistering heat outside. Sunlight filters softly into the room. The men are hot. Their faces are glistening with sweat, their stomachs rumbling with hunger. They’re delighted to escape the crowds and enjoy good food, cold wine and each other’s company as opposed to meal drowsiness descends, one of the 12 says to Jesus in a tone of puzzlement and curiosity. Master splain to us again what you were talking about this morning. And I can imagine Jesus feeling a sharp pang of irritation. After all, he made a point of using agricultural examples, hoping to relate to these people who had such a close connection to the land. So take into your taking a deep breath. And with a sigh he says the one who sowed the good seed is the Son of Man.
The field is the world and the good seed stands for the people of the kingdom. The weeds are the people of the evil one. And the enemy who sells them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age and the harvesters are angels. Why don’t you get it? He might have thought as our eyes adjust to the light in the room, we noticed that in another part of this room is a group of women who travel with Jesus. I can’t see them too. who clearly in the light in the dim light, but I’m thinking that they could be Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and John Joanna, Susannah, all women who follow Jesus and supported him, both materially and financially. One of the women, I’m guessing it was Mary Magdalene, because she loved to engage in heated discussions with Jesus says quietly to her sisters. You know, I believe and do my best to follow the teachings of our Master. But sometimes my thoughts travel in a different direction. The other women look at her with confusion, and with interest. She continues, I like weeds. Some of them are quite beautiful. Goldenrod milkweed thistles. Some weeds are good for my garden. They provide moisture. they fertilize the soil. And sometimes we eat weeds, dandelions, chicory, violets, Clover, to be sure she went on. Weeds aren’t always good. But they’re not always bad. Sometimes they’re good to have around.
As the women think about what Mary has said, Suzanna speaks up shyly. A smile on her face. She says, you know, sometimes I feel like a weed. I snap at my children. I argue. I don’t do enough for other people. I’m critical of myself and pretty much everybody else. There’s a lot of weakness in me. Parts of me I don’t like and that some I’m ashamed of. The women are silent as they think about suzanis disclosure of her weakness. Their thoughts turn inward as they begin to create their own list of greediness. Let’s face it, we all have Weeds don’t be some may be pretty like Queensland’s place. Some may provide us with food at the table. But if you’re like me, you’ve got weeding as you’re not crazy about. Here’s a very short list of my greediness. I invite you to create yours as you’ve listened to mine. I’m quick to anger. I have a hard time listening to people with whom I disagree. I worry all the time. So what do we do with our weightiness? The first thing is to acknowledge it. We may not like it. But like it or not, it’s a part of us. For me, what makes the confession of the prayer of confession, such an essential part of my prayer life is it a provides me with the opportunity to confess my weakness. I confess that I have sinned against you in thought, word and deed by what I have done and by what I have left undone. I have not loved you with my whole heart. And I have not loved my neighbor as myself. Sounds like an acknowledgement of weightiness to me. The second thing we can do with our wheat Enos is to decide if we want to keep it our weeding this may be milkweed. It may be chicory and we just assumed keep it around. Thank you very much. When we’ve decided what of our weightiness we want to keep then it’s time for us to do some serious discernment about what to do with the rest of our weeds. Through thought prayer, conversations with trusted friends. Journaling talking with Richard Anoma, Tammy now, not for nothing is my friends Some South Boston would say but there’s some good news here. And that’s the fact that we’re not just weeds. We’re also wheat.
What’s your wheat like? Wheat participates in community discussions about building schools, which carries Dunkin Donuts cards to give to people in need. Wheat listens patiently to a grandchild, extremely long, very detailed story of their most recent adventure. Wheat makes Manna casseroles. Wheat makes prayer cards. Wheat listens with interest and curiosity to someone’s whose opinions differ from theirs. We read rejoices in a friend’s success and weeps with their sorrow. It’s interesting to me that the tools we use to better understand our weakness are also the same that we can use to become more fully acquainted with our weakness, prayer, quiet time, dialogue with trusted friends and perhaps most important dialogue with yourself. So maybe when you take your dog for a walk in the morning, instead of composing your to do list for the day, you turn your thoughts to your weakness, or your weakness. Or when washing your car instead of listening to the Red Sox, you have a conversation with God about your fields of wheat and weeds instead of your Field of Dreams. A broken wrist, wheat and weeds. A room filled with believers and questioners all beckoning us to a closer relationship to God.
Amen.