Preaching Paths 19 July 2026

Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary

Today’s gospel lesson (Mt 13:24-30, 36-47) presents the parable of the wheat and weeds and Jesus’ interpretation. The parable, unique to Matthew, trades in tropes familiar to Matthew’s audience: agricultural and eschatological imagery, and a stark divide between good and evil actors. Although such imagery is less familiar today, the story’s effect is to challenge norms of our time and that of Jesus’ original audience.

The story’s fable-like plot presses the outer limits of plausibility. An enemy comes “while everyone was sleeping” to spread (in a single night?) darnel seeds across a landowner’s wheat fields. Darnel is a noxious visual “twin” of wheat until harvest when the seed pods appear.  The fields of a slave-owning landholder would be vast; that they would be poisoned in a single night stretches credibility. Oddly, the slaves recognize the invader seedlings, although at this stage they would look like wheat. If recognized, weeds would be eliminated immediately; yet the landowner insists the darnel will only be pulled and burned at harvest.

Jesus’ explanation several verses later takes the shape of an eschatological narrative. It includes standard tropes of Jewish apocalyptic: a clear division of children of God/children of evil and final judgment by a “Son of Man” (see Daniel 7:13), a title Jesus applies to himself in Mt.

Three striking themes worthy of a sermon arise from the story of the wheat and weeds. First, distinguishing the truly good from the truly evil is a task beyond humans. Yet, in every corner of the world we find extremist figures devising extra-juridical processes whereby they act as judge, jury and executioner to exterminate the evil “other.” There is no doubt that injustice matters. We need to challenge and change oppressive systems. Vulnerable groups need protection; bad actors need to be held to account. But ultimate judgment is the business of angels, not fear-mongering human beings driven by fear, fantasy and greed.

Second, it is not clear what the “field” represents: is this all of humanity, the church, or perhaps even each human heart?  Notably, the apostle Paul ponders in Romans 7 why the evil must coexist with the good in each of us. In every case, the evil cannot be torn out without destroying what is good. And if we ourselves are the “field” in question, this is not divine mismanagement, but mercy.

Third, we may find offensive the blunt dualism of good and evil in apocalyptic passages such as vv. 41-43. Nuance is absent, here:  some are labelled “children of the evil one.” Yet, we cannot deny that there are ghastly evils perpetrated on the innocent in our world. One day, Jesus promises, there shall be a reckoning. Ask any mother or father in Ukraine, Syria, or Gaza whose children have died in a bomb blast whether that matters. Ask victims of genocide. Ask any whose loved one has been torn away far too young by incurable disease. Ask victims of torture or sex trafficking. Jesus gives us hope that one day, such life-destroying horrors such be no more.

Since the beginning, there have been powerful figures, religious or political, who insist that they are qualified to identify an ethnic or religious group that is fundamentally “evil” and must be purged. These parables warn us against such hubris. Was not Jesus himself defamed because of the “sinful” company he kept (Gentiles and sinners)? Jesus reveals a God whose love excludes no one—a God who redeems even the worst of us, and the worst in us. For such mercy, thanks be to God!