The Rev. Dr. Brandon Perrine
Proper 11A
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
July 19, 2026
He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field, but while everybody was asleep an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No, for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest, and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’” Then he left the crowds and went into the house. And his disciples approached him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their God. Let anyone with ears listen!
~o~
I sure do wish that Jesus would stop explaining his parables! If this reading sounds a little bit familiar, it’s likely because last week we heard another of Jesus’ planting parables—the one about the foolish farmer haphazardly scattering seeds all over the place. Today’s farmer is the shrewder sort and he apparently sowed his good seed in rich prepared soil. The workers, however, report that he has a weed problem. The only possible explanation? A fiend stole into the field under the cover of night and sowed weeds among the wheat. The farmer resolves to sort the weeds from the wheat at harvest time—storing the wheat in his barn and burning the weeds in the fire.
From a preaching perspective, this is good material. I could work with this! But, a few verses later, Matthew returns to the wheat and weeds with the disciples once again asking Jesus for an explanation. I really wish he hadn’t. As I mentioned last week, there are only two parables in the gospels for which Jesus supplies any kind of explanation: this one and last week’s. Once again, I find the interpretation more challenging than the parable itself.
Jesus explains that he’s the farmer planting good seeds—children of the kingdom—while the devil is sowing weeds in the same field. In the end, Jesus promises that the two will be separated and the weeds will be burned. It’s lucky we’re all wheat, isn’t it? Or are we?
I think we’re meant to wonder. Parables introduce an element of ambiguity. They require thoughtful interpretation. They’re meant to make us think. In fact, one scholar warns that our reaction to a parable “should be one of resistance rather than acceptance . . . [I]f we hear a parable and think, ‘I really like that’ or, worse, fail to take any challenge, we’re not listening well enough.”1
Anyone sitting there thinking, “Well, I really like that”? No hands? I can think of at least a couple of reasons why that is.
One, you’re not entirely sure whether you’d be counted as a wheat or a weed in this scenario.
Or two, even if you’re supremely confident about being wheat, you’re still uncomfortable with the fate of the weeds. After all, weeds are just plants out of place, right? The morning glories in my asparagus patch make me crazy, but would be a welcome addition to someone else’s flower garden. They’re not categorically bad. They’re just bad for my asparagus patch and unusable to me as food.
The workers are anxious to rid the field of the weeds, but the farmer, he urges caution—patience—lest the wheat gets pulled out alongside the weeds. Sometimes, especially when the plants are young, it can be hard to tell the difference. And by the time you’re certain, you’ve often already done the damage by pulling too soon.
Earlier this summer, my very frustrated sister called to tell me that my niece had not only pulled all the weeds in a flowerbed where she’d been asked to work, she also pulled all the little Zinnias my sister had raised from seed indoors before transplanting them outside. Without the flower to identify them, we can quickly discover that we’ve uprooted exactly what we were hoping to save!
I think Jesus knew that. And as the farmer in the story, he encouraged patience. He knew the risk to the wheat was greater than the reward of pulling out the weeds. But like the workers, we want to get those weeds out right away. So the farmer says, “Wait. Let both grow together until the harvest. Don’t destroy the field trying to purify it. Be patient.”
Sometimes, I need to hear that message. Be patient. Be patient with our neighbors. Be patient with our nation. Be patient with our world. There are harmful things there. There are beautiful things there. And the truth is, we’re not nearly as good at telling the difference as we’d like to believe. Protect the wheat.
We live in a time when people are literally obsessed with collating, categorizing, sorting, and labeling. Who’s in. Who’s out. Who’s worthy. Who’s dangerous. Who’s a real Christian. Who’s a real American. We want to restore order. We want to pull weeds. But Jesus says, “Be patient. Be careful.” People aren’t weeds. And our human zeal for ordering things, for pulling weeds, has a long history of uprooting wheat. So don’t rush it.
The explanation to the parable ends with the words, “Let anyone with ears listen!” If we’re honest, that’s harder than it sounds. Listening means resisting the temptation to jump into the field and start pulling weeds—deciding too quickly who belongs and who doesn’t. Listening means accepting that life is messier than we’d like. Listening means acknowledging that we’re really not all that good at telling the difference between weeds and wheat.
So instead of pulling the weeds, we focus on the wheat. We plant. We nurture. We feed. We forgive. We make peace. We grow wheat. The sorting can wait. The growing cannot. Let anyone with ears listen. May it be so. Amen.
1 Amy-Jill Levine. Short Stories by Jesus: The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi. San Francisco: Harper One, 2015.
