16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)
Readings: Wisdom 12: 13, 16-19; Psalm 85 (86): 5-6, 9-10, 15-16; Romans 8: 26-27; Matthew 13: 24-43
Picture: By Natalia Marcelewicz on Unsplash
How many of us have ever witnessed a baby being born? What does it feel like? It depends, right? For one thing, it depends on where we happen to be. I remember visiting the old Singapore Science Centre as a child, and being captivated by a video of a human birth. But watching a recording is very different from actually being in the birthing room itself. And even in the room itself, there are different possible points of view. That of the midwife or doctor is different from that of the mother, which is, in turn, different from that of the little one being born. Nor does our point of view vary only with where we happen to be. Doesn’t it also depend on when? At the beginning, just before the contractions start? Or at the end, when the freshly sponged and tightly swaddled newborn is safely placed in its mother’s arms? Or right smack in the messy middle, when all the excitement and action, the pain and confusion, is still going on?
And isn’t this true not just of childbirth, but of other experiences as well? Our point of view depends on our particular location, both in space and in time. It’s helpful for us to keep this in mind today, as our scriptures draw us to ponder another experience. Not exactly the birth of a child, but the coming of the kingdom of heaven. Isn’t this what Jesus is describing, in those three parables? The kingdom of heaven may be compared to… first, weeds (or darnel) among the wheat… second, a mustard seed in a field… and third, yeast mixed with flour… And in each of these comparisons, there are different possible points of view, depending on one’s specific location.
For a start, there are at least three possible locations in time. A calm beginning and a peaceful end, as well as a messy middle. Both at the start and at end of the first parable, the wheat and the weeds are neatly separated. It’s only in the middle, when they are mixed, and easily confused, one for the other. Similarly, although it starts out very small, the mustard seed already enjoys a useful existence. It can spice up our food. Just as the mature plant can offer shelter to birds. It’s only in the middle, when things get messy. When the seed has to struggle to survive and grow, wherever it’s been sown. And can’t the same be said about the yeast and flour? For we know that, the mixing of yeast into dough involves a process of great agitation. Plenty of kneading and pounding, folding and flattening. Which is difficult enough for the one doing the work. But think of what it must feel like for the dough, which has to suffer the agitation… Or what it must feel like for the tiny mustard seed, fighting to grow… Or the fragile wheat, struggling to avoid being strangled by its dangerous parasitic impersonator. Against which it has to carefully guard itself in order to survive…
And yet, as challenging as these experiences are, Jesus’ parables invite us to see them as part of the coming of God’s kingdom. Just as labour pains are part of natural childbirth. To accept the struggles and trials, the dangers and risks of the messy middle, convinced that they will lead to a fuller life in the end. But isn’t this easier said than done? Especially if one has lost one’s family in war, for example, or one’s life-savings to a scam, or one’s childhood innocence to abuse, or one’s mobility to a drunk driver, or one’s reputation to gossip, or one’s freedom to addiction… In such situations, and wherever our lives may otherwise be touched by evil, isn’t it natural to take the point of view of an unsuspecting baby, in the midst of being born? Forced to suffer the rude shock of being expelled from its mother’s body? Without any inkling of the new life that awaits beyond? Feeling as if the process must lead only to death? How then, and from where, do we find the strength to carry on?
The scriptures address this question by offering us a glimpse into yet another point of view. One that transcends space and time. No less than the eternal perspective of God. Calling us to believe that if God permits the presence of evil in our world, it’s not out of malice or negligence or incompetence, but an expression of power mingled with mercy. As the first reading reminds us, God shows strength when (God’s) sovereign power is questioned… And God’s power is what enables the mustard seed to grow into a tree, and the yeast to leaven the dough. Yet God is also mild in judgement. Giving ample opportunity for sinners to repent. Patiently waiting till harvest time, before eradicating the weeds, so as avoid destroying the wheat. Even more, God’s power and mercy is shown especially when God humbly shares our own fragile human point of view. Isn’t this what brought Jesus from heaven to earth, to Cross and grave, and then back from whence he came? And isn’t this also what the Spirit continues to do even now, for us and in us? For when we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit…expresses our plea in a way that can never be put into words…
But in order for us to keep clinging to God’s perspective in times of trial, we need the ability to look beyond our own obvious points of view, to what so often remains hidden. We need the three virtues that we prayed for at the start of this Mass, when we asked God to make us fervent in hope and faith and charity, so that we may be ever watchful in keeping (God’s) commands. Fervour in hope, faith and charity. By which we may keep seeking the good and resisting evil. So as to enjoy rebirth, into the fullness of life in God’s kingdom. Sisters and brothers, how is God helping us to receive this precious grace anew today?
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