Sermon Illustrations For Proper 11 | Ordinary Time 16 (2020)
Illustration
Genesis 28:10-19a
Joy in Minutiae
I love questions like, “ How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?” I realize that speculative exegesis, like angelology, is not everybody’s cup of tea. It is so easy to dismiss these kinds of question as idle speculation that edifies nobody. But, for me, it is exactly these “idle questions about stuff that doesn’t matter” that have revealed some of the most earth-shaking and paradigm-shifting theological insights.
This passage about “the stairway to heaven” is a perfect example of this kind of speculative exegetical exercise that results in an awe-inspiring theological revelation. In the Talmud, the rabbis ask this question about the stairway to heaven that Jacob saw in his vision at Bethel, “ How wide is it?” (Babylonian Talmud, Chullin 91b) Using philology, they argue that there must have been two angels ascending the stairway as two angels were simultaneously descending, since the verbs in Hebrew for “ascending” and “descending” are both plural. The rabbis then use the description of an angel in Daniel 10:6 to estimate each angel’s relative size as 2,000 parsangs. Thus, four angels at 2,000 parsangs each require a stairway of 8,000 parsangs in width.
At first glance, this conclusion seems like a waste of time. Who cares if the stairway is 8,000 parsangs wide? After all, what even is a parsang? It is so easy to dismiss this entire conversation as a bunch of idle banter by a bunch of out of touch old men. But here is the secret: a parsang is a little over three miles, let’s say about 3.11 miles.
8,000 parsangs time approximately 3.11 miles/parsang = 24,880 miles.
Now, have you ever wondered, “How many miles is the circumference of the earth?”
In answering the question, “How wide is the stairway to heaven?” the rabbis were not only making a historical claim about the actual stairway to heaven Jacob saw, but also a theological observation about God’s presence on earth. Thus, while the text of the Bible suggests that the location of the stairway is limited to a place called “Bethel” (Beth = house, El = God), the rabbis knew that the true house of God could not be contained to a singular earthly location. Indeed, the whole world stands at the foot of that divine stairway to heaven.
M T.
* * *
Genesis 28:10-19a
John Wesley made an interesting observation about this lesson. He suggests that the ladder might “represent the providence of God, by which there is a constant correspondence kept between heaven and earth... Providence does this work gradually and by steps.” (Commentary On the Bible, p.48) Wesley offered another image for understanding the ladder:
He [Christ] is the ladder. The foot on earth is His human nature, the top in heaven is His divine nature... All the intercourse between heaven and earth since the Fall is by this ladder. Christ is the way. (Commentary On the Bible, p.48)
Martin Luther adds to this point that Christ descends the ladder and lives with us (Luther’s Works, Vol.5, p.250). No, we don’t climb up the ladder; He comes down for us. And then we can sing the last verses of the African-American spiritual, not so much about “Climbing Jacob’s ladder,” but instead singing about:
Sinner do you love my Jesus?
Sinner do you love my Jesus?
Sinner do you love my Jesus?
[He’s makin’ you a] Soldier of the Cross.
Mark E.
* * *
Wisdom of Solomon 12:13, 16-19
The Apocrypha is not often found in the lectionary readings but when it is, I always try to pay special attention to the words therein. This reading talks about the character of God — judging justly, strength in righteousness, the ability to rebuke and yet mildness in judgement and great forbearance. I have found this reading to reinforce my need to walk in these footsteps — to look for justice, to act in righteousness, to judge with mildness and to offer forbearance to all around me. These characteristics call me to love my neighbors — the ones I agree with and especially the ones with whom I have vast caverns of disagreement. To do anything else is to act in insolence. God help me to walk in the ways of Jesus.
Bonnie B.
* * *
Romans 8:12-25
Dayton, Ohio, has had many protest signs posted around the city in recent years. The mayor, Nan Whaley, saw countless “DaytonStrong” messages during a turbulent year of 2019 in which the city endured a tense Ku Klux Klan rally, devastating tornadoes, a mass shooting in which ten people died, and the fatal shooting of a police detective. But, according to the mayor, those signs were organized. During the coronavirus, in April 2020, the signs appeared spontaneously. Some signs offered encouragement: “Strong Together.” Some signs were spiritual: “Have faith.” Some signs were humorous: “United We Stand - Six Feet Apart.” Some signs were provocative: “April Distance Brings May Existence.” Then of course, there were the teddy bears that people put in their windows and on their porches for children to spot as they walked the streets with their parents. The mayor offered her understanding of this spontaneity when she said, “These are deeper, reaching out for connectivity. This thing is particularly lonely and so it’s almost a shout of ‘Look, I’m putting myself out here and that makes me connected, and someone else will stumble upon it, and it will be meaningful to them.’”
Ron L.
* * *
Romans 8:12-25
Paul speaks about receiving a spirit of adoption. What does this mean to the Roman community of house churches? To the Macedonians in Thessalonica? The military retirees in the romanized city of Philippi? To the Celts addressed in the letter to the Galatians. To the rich and self-satisfied population of Corinth?
Each community has a sense of itself that it is bringing into the family of God. Rome is the seat of the Empire, and the cosmopolitan population is used to thinking of itself as the center of the world. To be adopted is to admit with some humility that despite everything, they need more.
The Macedonians are a hard-scrabble lot, poor, but fiercely willing to give to Paul’s special offering at a greater level than others, enough that Paul can use them to shame the Corinthians. For them, adoption may mean welcome into a home where they are loved and respected for who they are and not judged according to what they don’t own, and also affirmed because they have something to offer.
Philippi was considered Rome, and the people who lived there had all the privileges of a citizen of Rome without ever having seen the eternal city. It was filled with retirees from the Roman legions, perhaps suffering from PTSD no doubt from having seen too much and done too much. Since they had citizenship in a city they had likely never seen (Rome) they were ready to receive adoption and citizenship in heaven, which they also had never seen. Perhaps they could find healing as a part of a new community in Christ.
The Celts did not think, act, or live like the Romans. Like resident nations of Native Americans in the US or First Nations in Canada, Celts did not necessarily write books, but they sang songs and preserved oral histories in the form of stories that recalled the glories of time past. They charged naked and wild against the ranks of Rome, terrifying them. They knew nothing of Greek theoretical science but developed practical science, inventing eye salves, dyes, and the curing of hams. For them, the line between the divine and human was razor thin. The gods traveled through that barrier as they pleased and humans saw beyond it as vision was granted. To them the idea of God made human was the most natural thing in the world.
Ah Corinth. Located on the spit of land that separated the Peloponnesean peninsula of Greece from the European mainland, they grew rich by moving cargo, and sometimes whole ships across that isthmus. Rich looked down on poor, Greek and Jew looked down on each other, and now suddenly all were supposed to be part of the same Christian family — for eternity. Corinth? Problems, problems, problems.
So often we think of ourselves as a Christian island, sisters and brothers in name with Christians around the world, but just a little bit better than all the rest, especially the other Christians in our community. Let us not forget that we are not allowing the rest of Christendom to join us, to be like us, to act like us, to talk like us. We are supposed to be grateful to be adopted into the family of Jesus Christ.
Frank R.
* * *
Romans 8:12-25
I watched an adoption in our county’s courthouse not long ago. A husband and wife had been waiting twelve years to have a child but couldn’t. After much prayer, they decided to adopt. They stood before the judge, eager to adopt a little girl. The judge startled them by first asking, “Is anyone coercing you to adopt this little girl?” After they assured him that they were not coerced, but doing so out of love for her, he made this statement. “From today on, she is your daughter. She may disappoint you, even grieve you, but she is your daughter. Everything you own one day will be hers and she will bear your name.” Then he looked to the clerk and gave this directive. “Order a change in this child’s birth certificate and may it reflect that these are the parents of this child.” It was a wonderful time of celebration. The theme was clearly, “Welcome to the family.”
I thought about that scene again when I read this text. Paul writes, “For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” God was not coerced into adopting us into his family. He willingly chose to adopt us through Jesus Christ because he loves us. We stand, as joint heirs with Jesus, to inherit far more than we can imagine. God’s message to us in much the same as it was in that small Missouri court room. “Welcome to the family.”
Bill T.
* * *
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
A few weeks ago, I saw an online post by Erna Kim Hackett, who is part of InterVarsity’s Black Campus Ministries in Portland, Oregon. She wrote,
White Christianity suffers from a bad case of Disney princess theology. As each individual reads scripture, they see themselves as the princess in every story. They are Esther, never Xerxes or Haman. They are Peter, but never Judas. They are the woman anointing Jesus, never the Pharisees. They are the Jews escaping slavery, never Egypt. For citizens of the most powerful country in the world, who enslaved both native and black people, to see itself as Israel and not Egypt when studying Scripture is a perfect example of Disney princess theology. And it means that as people in power, they have no lens for locating themselves rightly in Scripture or society — and it has made them blind and utterly ill-equipped to engage issues of power and injustice. It is some very weak Bible work.
I want to set aside Hackett’s critique of white Christianity, specifically, and focus instead on her concept of “Disney princess theology.” I had never heard this term before, and as a girl I never identified with Disney princesses (by the time they made Mulan, I was too old for Disney movies). However, I think her point about putting ourselves in the place of the “hero” in Scripture is an important one.
In Matthew 13, Jesus tells the assembled crowd the parable of the weeds among the wheat (24-30). Later, his disciples ask him to “decode” the parable for them. Jesus explains,
“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.”
As we read the Scripture, it is so tempting to immediately “know” that we are the good seed, the children of the kingdom, and those who disagree with us must certainly be the weeds, the children of the evil one. But I wonder if our “Disney princess theology” that leads us to automatically associate ourselves with the good seed is exactly what puts us in danger of becoming weeds.
Most importantly, I think we need to take a hard look at ourselves and ask, “Have I been acting like good seed?” Has my growth been from God’s bounty of the sun and the soil, or have I been a weed, growing at the expense of others, taking nutrients from the roots of the seeds, and thrusting myself outward to absorb all the sunshine? Have I been standing in solidarity with my fellow wheat, or have I been growing at the expense of the wheat?
Hackett’s call to refuse a “Disney princess theology” that automatically casts us in the role of the hero is an important one. Instead of reading Scripture like a book that is supposed to make us feel good, we need to see Scripture as a way of keep us accountable to who we say we are. If we say that we act as Christian, do our actions line up with our words? Or, are we the weeds?
M T.
* * *
Matthew 13:23-30, 36-43
The parable of the weeds – an exploration good for all pastors. I can sow the seeds of grace, of love, of blessing but I have no idea if they will take root or if someone else will sow weeds among them. I can remember having a conversation with my eldest grandson, who calls himself “unreligious,” about why I have faith in God. We talked for nearly two hours on a road trip from the bus station where I picked him up to my house. He told my why he didn’t believe. We talked together. At the end of the ride he said to me, “it’s good to talk to you. When I talk to other Christians, they just tell me I am going to hell.” Weeds sown in among the seeds of grace, love, and blessing. What will be stronger?
Bonnie B.
* * *
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
Commenting on this text’s meaning, John Calvin once wrote:
So long as the pilgrimage of the Church in this world continues, bad men and hypocrites will mingle in it with those who are good and upright, that the children of God may be armed with patience, and, in the midst of offences which are fitted to disturb them, may preserve unbroken steadfastness of faith. (Calvin’s Commentaries, Vol.XVI/2, p.119)
Martin Luther picked up on this theme and observed the guidance it gives the church today, contending that just as the body having waste is a sign of health, the church today is not healthy without its impurities (Collected Sermons, Vol.5, p.268) We need to be content with this situation, he claims.
... for in this matter he who errs today may find truth tomorrow, Who knows when the Word of God may touch his heart? (Collected Sermons, Vol.1/2, p.102)
This attitude that wheat and tares belong together undergirds an observation made by prominent 20th-century social ethicist and an influential political advisor Reinhold Niebuhr which is a great word in this campaign season for the presidential elections:
... all these provisional judgments stand ultimately under the truth of the parable of the wheat and tares. “Let both grow together until the harvest.” If we had more modesty about this perhaps there would not have been such a debate between pure individualism and pure collectivism. (Justice & Mercy, p.58)
Appreciating how wheat and tares belong together, how you need politely to bear with the views of those who don’t see the world like you do, makes you a lot more modest and less certain about the “truth” of your own favorite political positions. Can we use more of that way of thinking in American politics?
Mark E.
Joy in Minutiae
I love questions like, “ How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?” I realize that speculative exegesis, like angelology, is not everybody’s cup of tea. It is so easy to dismiss these kinds of question as idle speculation that edifies nobody. But, for me, it is exactly these “idle questions about stuff that doesn’t matter” that have revealed some of the most earth-shaking and paradigm-shifting theological insights.
This passage about “the stairway to heaven” is a perfect example of this kind of speculative exegetical exercise that results in an awe-inspiring theological revelation. In the Talmud, the rabbis ask this question about the stairway to heaven that Jacob saw in his vision at Bethel, “ How wide is it?” (Babylonian Talmud, Chullin 91b) Using philology, they argue that there must have been two angels ascending the stairway as two angels were simultaneously descending, since the verbs in Hebrew for “ascending” and “descending” are both plural. The rabbis then use the description of an angel in Daniel 10:6 to estimate each angel’s relative size as 2,000 parsangs. Thus, four angels at 2,000 parsangs each require a stairway of 8,000 parsangs in width.
At first glance, this conclusion seems like a waste of time. Who cares if the stairway is 8,000 parsangs wide? After all, what even is a parsang? It is so easy to dismiss this entire conversation as a bunch of idle banter by a bunch of out of touch old men. But here is the secret: a parsang is a little over three miles, let’s say about 3.11 miles.
8,000 parsangs time approximately 3.11 miles/parsang = 24,880 miles.
Now, have you ever wondered, “How many miles is the circumference of the earth?”
In answering the question, “How wide is the stairway to heaven?” the rabbis were not only making a historical claim about the actual stairway to heaven Jacob saw, but also a theological observation about God’s presence on earth. Thus, while the text of the Bible suggests that the location of the stairway is limited to a place called “Bethel” (Beth = house, El = God), the rabbis knew that the true house of God could not be contained to a singular earthly location. Indeed, the whole world stands at the foot of that divine stairway to heaven.
M T.
* * *
Genesis 28:10-19a
John Wesley made an interesting observation about this lesson. He suggests that the ladder might “represent the providence of God, by which there is a constant correspondence kept between heaven and earth... Providence does this work gradually and by steps.” (Commentary On the Bible, p.48) Wesley offered another image for understanding the ladder:
He [Christ] is the ladder. The foot on earth is His human nature, the top in heaven is His divine nature... All the intercourse between heaven and earth since the Fall is by this ladder. Christ is the way. (Commentary On the Bible, p.48)
Martin Luther adds to this point that Christ descends the ladder and lives with us (Luther’s Works, Vol.5, p.250). No, we don’t climb up the ladder; He comes down for us. And then we can sing the last verses of the African-American spiritual, not so much about “Climbing Jacob’s ladder,” but instead singing about:
Sinner do you love my Jesus?
Sinner do you love my Jesus?
Sinner do you love my Jesus?
[He’s makin’ you a] Soldier of the Cross.
Mark E.
* * *
Wisdom of Solomon 12:13, 16-19
The Apocrypha is not often found in the lectionary readings but when it is, I always try to pay special attention to the words therein. This reading talks about the character of God — judging justly, strength in righteousness, the ability to rebuke and yet mildness in judgement and great forbearance. I have found this reading to reinforce my need to walk in these footsteps — to look for justice, to act in righteousness, to judge with mildness and to offer forbearance to all around me. These characteristics call me to love my neighbors — the ones I agree with and especially the ones with whom I have vast caverns of disagreement. To do anything else is to act in insolence. God help me to walk in the ways of Jesus.
Bonnie B.
* * *
Romans 8:12-25
Dayton, Ohio, has had many protest signs posted around the city in recent years. The mayor, Nan Whaley, saw countless “DaytonStrong” messages during a turbulent year of 2019 in which the city endured a tense Ku Klux Klan rally, devastating tornadoes, a mass shooting in which ten people died, and the fatal shooting of a police detective. But, according to the mayor, those signs were organized. During the coronavirus, in April 2020, the signs appeared spontaneously. Some signs offered encouragement: “Strong Together.” Some signs were spiritual: “Have faith.” Some signs were humorous: “United We Stand - Six Feet Apart.” Some signs were provocative: “April Distance Brings May Existence.” Then of course, there were the teddy bears that people put in their windows and on their porches for children to spot as they walked the streets with their parents. The mayor offered her understanding of this spontaneity when she said, “These are deeper, reaching out for connectivity. This thing is particularly lonely and so it’s almost a shout of ‘Look, I’m putting myself out here and that makes me connected, and someone else will stumble upon it, and it will be meaningful to them.’”
Ron L.
* * *
Romans 8:12-25
Paul speaks about receiving a spirit of adoption. What does this mean to the Roman community of house churches? To the Macedonians in Thessalonica? The military retirees in the romanized city of Philippi? To the Celts addressed in the letter to the Galatians. To the rich and self-satisfied population of Corinth?
Each community has a sense of itself that it is bringing into the family of God. Rome is the seat of the Empire, and the cosmopolitan population is used to thinking of itself as the center of the world. To be adopted is to admit with some humility that despite everything, they need more.
The Macedonians are a hard-scrabble lot, poor, but fiercely willing to give to Paul’s special offering at a greater level than others, enough that Paul can use them to shame the Corinthians. For them, adoption may mean welcome into a home where they are loved and respected for who they are and not judged according to what they don’t own, and also affirmed because they have something to offer.
Philippi was considered Rome, and the people who lived there had all the privileges of a citizen of Rome without ever having seen the eternal city. It was filled with retirees from the Roman legions, perhaps suffering from PTSD no doubt from having seen too much and done too much. Since they had citizenship in a city they had likely never seen (Rome) they were ready to receive adoption and citizenship in heaven, which they also had never seen. Perhaps they could find healing as a part of a new community in Christ.
The Celts did not think, act, or live like the Romans. Like resident nations of Native Americans in the US or First Nations in Canada, Celts did not necessarily write books, but they sang songs and preserved oral histories in the form of stories that recalled the glories of time past. They charged naked and wild against the ranks of Rome, terrifying them. They knew nothing of Greek theoretical science but developed practical science, inventing eye salves, dyes, and the curing of hams. For them, the line between the divine and human was razor thin. The gods traveled through that barrier as they pleased and humans saw beyond it as vision was granted. To them the idea of God made human was the most natural thing in the world.
Ah Corinth. Located on the spit of land that separated the Peloponnesean peninsula of Greece from the European mainland, they grew rich by moving cargo, and sometimes whole ships across that isthmus. Rich looked down on poor, Greek and Jew looked down on each other, and now suddenly all were supposed to be part of the same Christian family — for eternity. Corinth? Problems, problems, problems.
So often we think of ourselves as a Christian island, sisters and brothers in name with Christians around the world, but just a little bit better than all the rest, especially the other Christians in our community. Let us not forget that we are not allowing the rest of Christendom to join us, to be like us, to act like us, to talk like us. We are supposed to be grateful to be adopted into the family of Jesus Christ.
Frank R.
* * *
Romans 8:12-25
I watched an adoption in our county’s courthouse not long ago. A husband and wife had been waiting twelve years to have a child but couldn’t. After much prayer, they decided to adopt. They stood before the judge, eager to adopt a little girl. The judge startled them by first asking, “Is anyone coercing you to adopt this little girl?” After they assured him that they were not coerced, but doing so out of love for her, he made this statement. “From today on, she is your daughter. She may disappoint you, even grieve you, but she is your daughter. Everything you own one day will be hers and she will bear your name.” Then he looked to the clerk and gave this directive. “Order a change in this child’s birth certificate and may it reflect that these are the parents of this child.” It was a wonderful time of celebration. The theme was clearly, “Welcome to the family.”
I thought about that scene again when I read this text. Paul writes, “For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” God was not coerced into adopting us into his family. He willingly chose to adopt us through Jesus Christ because he loves us. We stand, as joint heirs with Jesus, to inherit far more than we can imagine. God’s message to us in much the same as it was in that small Missouri court room. “Welcome to the family.”
Bill T.
* * *
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
A few weeks ago, I saw an online post by Erna Kim Hackett, who is part of InterVarsity’s Black Campus Ministries in Portland, Oregon. She wrote,
White Christianity suffers from a bad case of Disney princess theology. As each individual reads scripture, they see themselves as the princess in every story. They are Esther, never Xerxes or Haman. They are Peter, but never Judas. They are the woman anointing Jesus, never the Pharisees. They are the Jews escaping slavery, never Egypt. For citizens of the most powerful country in the world, who enslaved both native and black people, to see itself as Israel and not Egypt when studying Scripture is a perfect example of Disney princess theology. And it means that as people in power, they have no lens for locating themselves rightly in Scripture or society — and it has made them blind and utterly ill-equipped to engage issues of power and injustice. It is some very weak Bible work.
I want to set aside Hackett’s critique of white Christianity, specifically, and focus instead on her concept of “Disney princess theology.” I had never heard this term before, and as a girl I never identified with Disney princesses (by the time they made Mulan, I was too old for Disney movies). However, I think her point about putting ourselves in the place of the “hero” in Scripture is an important one.
In Matthew 13, Jesus tells the assembled crowd the parable of the weeds among the wheat (24-30). Later, his disciples ask him to “decode” the parable for them. Jesus explains,
“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.”
As we read the Scripture, it is so tempting to immediately “know” that we are the good seed, the children of the kingdom, and those who disagree with us must certainly be the weeds, the children of the evil one. But I wonder if our “Disney princess theology” that leads us to automatically associate ourselves with the good seed is exactly what puts us in danger of becoming weeds.
Most importantly, I think we need to take a hard look at ourselves and ask, “Have I been acting like good seed?” Has my growth been from God’s bounty of the sun and the soil, or have I been a weed, growing at the expense of others, taking nutrients from the roots of the seeds, and thrusting myself outward to absorb all the sunshine? Have I been standing in solidarity with my fellow wheat, or have I been growing at the expense of the wheat?
Hackett’s call to refuse a “Disney princess theology” that automatically casts us in the role of the hero is an important one. Instead of reading Scripture like a book that is supposed to make us feel good, we need to see Scripture as a way of keep us accountable to who we say we are. If we say that we act as Christian, do our actions line up with our words? Or, are we the weeds?
M T.
* * *
Matthew 13:23-30, 36-43
The parable of the weeds – an exploration good for all pastors. I can sow the seeds of grace, of love, of blessing but I have no idea if they will take root or if someone else will sow weeds among them. I can remember having a conversation with my eldest grandson, who calls himself “unreligious,” about why I have faith in God. We talked for nearly two hours on a road trip from the bus station where I picked him up to my house. He told my why he didn’t believe. We talked together. At the end of the ride he said to me, “it’s good to talk to you. When I talk to other Christians, they just tell me I am going to hell.” Weeds sown in among the seeds of grace, love, and blessing. What will be stronger?
Bonnie B.
* * *
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43
Commenting on this text’s meaning, John Calvin once wrote:
So long as the pilgrimage of the Church in this world continues, bad men and hypocrites will mingle in it with those who are good and upright, that the children of God may be armed with patience, and, in the midst of offences which are fitted to disturb them, may preserve unbroken steadfastness of faith. (Calvin’s Commentaries, Vol.XVI/2, p.119)
Martin Luther picked up on this theme and observed the guidance it gives the church today, contending that just as the body having waste is a sign of health, the church today is not healthy without its impurities (Collected Sermons, Vol.5, p.268) We need to be content with this situation, he claims.
... for in this matter he who errs today may find truth tomorrow, Who knows when the Word of God may touch his heart? (Collected Sermons, Vol.1/2, p.102)
This attitude that wheat and tares belong together undergirds an observation made by prominent 20th-century social ethicist and an influential political advisor Reinhold Niebuhr which is a great word in this campaign season for the presidential elections:
... all these provisional judgments stand ultimately under the truth of the parable of the wheat and tares. “Let both grow together until the harvest.” If we had more modesty about this perhaps there would not have been such a debate between pure individualism and pure collectivism. (Justice & Mercy, p.58)
Appreciating how wheat and tares belong together, how you need politely to bear with the views of those who don’t see the world like you do, makes you a lot more modest and less certain about the “truth” of your own favorite political positions. Can we use more of that way of thinking in American politics?
Mark E.
