Parable of the Wheat and the Tares

The Gospel reading today was the Parable of the Wheat and the Tares. I find the “official” interpretation a little troublesome because I don't like the idea that some people are children of evil and just have been and always be. So I was thinking about what one of the previous clergy of my church would always say about the Parable of the Sower, that there isn't necessarily just one correct interpretation and that it's okay to sort of play with the parables and see how else they might speak to you.

So here's my thought: what if instead of the field being the whole world, it's each of our hearts? In that case, we can think of the wheat as our good impulses and the weeds as sinful ones. We can certainly ask God why it is that we have both kinds of thoughts. Why do we even have to struggle with sin if God created us good? And then we get the answer ,“An enemy has done this,” which sort of makes sense along the lines of original sin. It doesn't necessarily matter whether you think of there being a literal devil involved; there's still the reality that we have both kind and noble ideas and cruel and selfish ideas.

So what do we do about it? Should we try to root out all the evil inside of us and not do anything else until that's done? In the parable, the servants ask if they should go out and pull up the weeds, but the master says to wait because they're in danger of pulling up the wheat at the same time. Now I don't think this means we should just follow every impulse we have without concerning ourselves with its morality. But I do think it may be the case that we lack the wisdom to perform psychospiritual surgery on ourselves. I've struggled with this sometimes with my own personality. I can be stubborn and impulsive in ways that aren't always good, but those traits seem to have the same mental root as my optimism and enthusiasm about life. This doesn't mean that I shouldn't try to control my actions – of course I should. But it might also mean that I can't fully avoid the bad without shutting down some of the good; in unguarded moments, I'm likely to be both joyously enthusiastic and stubbornly opinionated. I can learn to keep my mouth shut in order to avoid hurting people, but I don't have the subtle control to eliminate my core intensity when it's harmful and keep it when it's positive. But I think maybe God does. And I think maybe, even in the areas of my own self-control, there's work that's mine and there's work that's God's. It's my job to think before I speak, to consider whether my words will hurt someone. It's not my job to make sure those thoughts never even enter my head. I can, to some extent, make myself act more gentle, more tolerant, more loving. But only God can make me truly be so. And I think it's better for me, and for all of us, to live and stumble through our confusing, messy lives than to spend all our time fretting about how our motives aren't pure.

I think this may also be a good thing to keep in mind to help me be more tolerant of others. (And here I'm making up examples rather that searching for real life ones, so to anyone who's reading, know that I'm not talking about you.) Perhaps what seems to me like shallowness is tied up with the easy laughter that I love in a friend. Maybe someone's perpetual gloominess comes from a powerful ability to empathize with those who are suffering. The same person who strikes me as self-righteous one day may be inspiring the next, for reasons that look the same from inside that person's head. So I think maybe God calls to be patient with the mixture of wheat and tares we find within our neighbors as well, and to remember that it's not up to us or to them to insist that they be perfect now, but that perfection will happen in God's time. And who am I to say what traits God does or doesn't want in a person anyway? Maybe that stirring up that annoys me is needed to shake my own complacency, or maybe that slow deliberation is only irritating because of my impatience. My wheat, your wheat, my tares, your tares – I can't tell, so I'm best off leaving it to God.