I may have preached on[1] the Genesis story, but it's the gospel lesson from last Sunday that I can't stop thinking about (Matt 13:24-30,36-43). That happens a lot with Jesus' parables. Far from simplistic morality tales, they operate on multiple levels, keeping you thinking.

The parable from last Sunday is about a crop of wheat, into which "an enemy" sowed weeds. The servants offer to try and pull out the weeds, but the master prevents them: "'No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest." And so, the wheat and weeds are left alone, each growing side by side, until harvest time.

Later, when Jesus unpacks the parable, he invites his followers to see ourselves as the wheat, growing up in a world that the Evil One has sowed with very different seeds. Which means that God's people are not promised a separate place in which to grow, and life in Christ does not mean we are transported to some sort of holy greenhouse, safe and protected. We live in the same world as everyone else, where all sorts of other things are growing – some of it opposed to us and happy to see us languish. And yet, in spite of that hostility, God nevertheless desires us to grow and thrive.

But how? How can we be wheat in a world full of weeds?

Well first, it doesn't help to worry about the weeds. Too many Christians spend too much time worried about other people, and they are more than happy to condemn the ones they deem to be growing improperly. But Jesus warns us away from such behavior. It is not our job to judge the value and virtue of others, and we are definitely not supposed to use our energies to hurt those we think "don't belong here." We are wheat, not weeders, and besides, even with the best of intentions, if we try digging into other people's lives, there will always be collateral damage – wheat that gets uprooted along with the weeds, so to speak.

The best thing we can do to grow strong and healthy, even in a world of weeds, is to follow the wisdom every gardener and farmer knows: cultivate deep roots. That way, even in adverse conditions, even if we find ourselves in a hostile environment, we will be able to flourish. There is a tale told of one of the desert fathers, the spiritual sages who lived in the wilderness of Egypt and Palestine in the early centuries of the Church. One day someone approached this desert monk with a question. "Abba, what should I do when I struggle to feel God's presence, and I feel nothing but dry and empty inside?" Pointing to a thriving desert plant nearby, the monk said, "To find the water, sometimes we must go deeper."

Which reminds me of the tree I wrote about last week, the one that grows from a boulder. It may not appear to have grown much over the years, but that's because we can't see the roots spreading deeply below. Other trees may live in easier conditions, and thus have grown far taller, but this tiny, graceful tree endures through the decades by focusing its energy on its roots.

This is how we live as wheat in a world filled with weeds. Not by raging against the weeds sowed nearby and trying to pull them up, nor by competing against those weeds in the shallow soil, but by focusing on the strength and depth of our roots. The deeper we choose to go in our life with Christ, the richer the harvest of goodness and godliness we will put forth. Because when our roots are anchored in the deeper places, no matter what may surround us or who may oppose us, we will not be overcome.

[1] Eight-Sunday-After-Pentecost-2023-Sermon