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Already Seeking Us
Most of us think of the spiritual life as our search for God. We pray because we are looking for him. We come to Mass because we want to draw closer to him. We read Scripture because we hope to hear his voice. We struggle through doubt, grief, and confusion, trying to find some sign of his presence. Today’s readings gently turn that idea around. They remind us that before we ever began searching for God, God was already searching for us.
The first reading from the Song of Songs begins with longing: “On my bed at night I sought him whom my heart loves.” The woman rises and goes out into the city. She searches the streets and squares. She asks the watchmen whether they have seen the one she loves. Her search is persistent because it is driven by love. That same longing appears in Mary Magdalene.
She comes to the tomb early in the morning, while it is still dark. She discovers that the stone has been removed. Later she stands outside the tomb weeping. Twice she is asked: “Woman, why are you weeping?” Her answer reveals the depth of her sorrow: “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where they laid him.”
Mary is searching. She searches the tomb. She questions the angels. She looks at Jesus himself but does not recognize him. She assumes he is the gardener and asks whether he has carried the body away. Mary is looking for the Lord, but she is looking for someone who is dead. Her love is real, but her expectations are still shaped by the tomb.
Then everything changes. Jesus speaks one word: “Mary.” That is the turning point of the entire Gospel. Mary does not recognize Jesus when she sees him. She recognizes him when he calls her by name. In that moment, the seeker realizes that she has been found.
Mary thought she was searching for Jesus. But Jesus was already there. He knew her grief. He had seen her tears. He knew exactly whom she was seeking. And before she could fully understand what had happened, he called her by name. This is one of the deepest truths of our faith.
Our desire for God begins in God’s desire for us. Our search for God is always a response to the God who first comes looking for us. Whenever we feel the desire to pray, God is already at work within us. Whenever we feel the need to return after drifting away, God is already drawing us home. Whenever we come to Mass burdened, distracted, grieving, or uncertain, we may imagine that we have come looking for God. But the deeper truth is that he has already come looking for us.
Like Mary Magdalene, we do not always recognize him. Grief can cloud our vision. Fear can keep us staring at the tomb. Disappointment can convince us that what has been lost can never be restored. Sometimes Christ stands very near, and we still mistake him for someone else.
Yet he continues to call us. Not merely as members of a crowd. Not anonymously. He calls us by name. The Good Shepherd knows his sheep, and his sheep recognize his voice. When Jesus says, “Mary,” her sorrow is transformed into recognition. But the encounter does not end there.
Jesus tells her: “Go to my brothers and tell them…” Mary moves from searching to encountering, and then from encountering to being sent. That is the pattern of discipleship: We seek. We are found. And then we are sent. Mary becomes the first witness of the Resurrection. She goes to the disciples with the simple proclamation: “I have seen the Lord.”
That is why the Church has long honored her as the Apostle to the Apostles. She is sent not because she understood everything immediately. She is sent because she remained. She remained near the cross. She came to the tomb while it was still dark. She continued searching even through tears. And when the Lord called her name, she responded. Mary Magdalene’s story is the story of every disciple.
We search for Christ in prayer, in Scripture, in the Eucharist, in the lives of others, and sometimes through long seasons of darkness. But the great surprise of the Gospel is that our search is always preceded by his. Before we called upon him, he knew our name. Before we found him, he had already found us. Before we reached for him, he was already standing near. Perhaps that is the grace we should ask for today. Not simply the grace to search more earnestly, but the grace to recognize that Christ is already searching for us.
And when we hear him call our name, may we respond as Mary did—not by remaining at the tomb, but by going forth to say with our lives: “I have seen the Lord.”
Image credit: Christ’s Appearance to Mary Magdalene after the Resurrection | Alexander Ivanon | Russian Museum | PD-US
A Pearl of Great Price
This coming Sunday is the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time. Pearls were as highly valued in the ancient world as they are today, and were a conspicuous way of displaying wealth (1 Tim 2:9; Rev 17:4; 18:12, 16). Huge pearls are the gates in the symbolic new Jerusalem (Rev 21:21). But there is a subtle difference between this and the preceding parable.
The man, likely a hired workman, who obtains the buried treasure risks everything to possess it, but he gains wealth upon which he can live. The pearl merchant is presumably a person of some substance already having great wealth. He impoverished himself to acquire something supremely beautiful and valuable which he could admire and display but could not live off unless he sold it again.
What the two parables share in common is the issue of priorities. The fact that what the dealer had to sell included presumably other, lesser, pearls might however have led the hearers to reflect on the value of the kingdom of heaven in relation to other competing ideologies; once you have it, you need no other. Hence the emphasis on the fact that this is just one pearl, whose value eclipses all others put together.
Image credit: The Pearl of Great Price, by Domenico Fetti, 17th century |Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, Bilddatenbank | Public Domain
On this day in history….
Neil Armstrong became the first person to step foot on the moon…It used to be a given that people remember the day that man first walked on the moon on July 20, 1969, watching black-and-white images on television. But now most Americans don’t know where they were because the 61% of Americans hadn’t been born yet.
What we ask of the Shepherd
The prophet Micah closes his book with a prayer that is both simple and deeply moving: “Shepherd your people with your staff, the flock of your inheritance, that dwells apart in a woodland, in the midst of Carmel. Let them feed in Bashan and Gilead, as in the days of old.”(Micah 7:14)
At first glance, these ancient place names Carmel, Bashan, and Gilead may seem like little more than points on a map. But to the people of Israel they stirred the imagination. Carmel was known for its beauty and fertile slopes. Bashan was famous for its rich pasturelands where flocks could graze in abundance. Gilead was remembered for its healing balm and its lush countryside. Together they formed a picture of life as God intended it: a flock that was safe, well-fed, and flourishing under the care of its shepherd.
What is remarkable is that Micah prays these words after a long book filled with warnings, injustice, and the consequences of Israel’s unfaithfulness. After exposing the people’s failures, the prophet does not end with condemnation. He ends with hope. His prayer is not, “Lord, punish your people.” It is, “Lord, shepherd your people.” That difference tells us something profound about the heart of God.
Throughout Scripture, the image of the shepherd is one of God’s favorite ways of revealing himself. The shepherd does not simply own the sheep; he knows them, protects them, searches for them when they wander, and leads them to places where they can flourish. God’s deepest desire has never been merely to correct his people, but to guide them into the fullness of life.
As Christians, we cannot hear Micah’s words without thinking of Jesus, who called himself the Good Shepherd. He came not only to rescue the lost sheep but also to lead them into abundant life. He knows the paths that lead to peace, even when we insist on wandering into places that leave us weary and hungry.
Perhaps that is why this ancient prayer still speaks so powerfully today. Many people feel as though they are wandering through a woodland—surrounded by uncertainty, noise, loneliness, or fear. We long for solid ground, for green pastures, for a place where our souls can rest.
Micah reminds us that God’s answer is not first a place but a person. The answer is the Shepherd.
The Christian life is not simply about finding our own way through the forest. It is about learning to recognize the Shepherd’s voice and trusting him to lead us. When we do, he brings us to places of nourishment we could never have found on our own. Not only the rich pastures of Bashan or the beauty of Carmel, but the deeper pastures of faith, hope, mercy, and peace.
In the end, Micah’s prayer becomes our own: “Shepherd your people.” It is a prayer our world still needs. It is a prayer our families need. It is a prayer each of us can whisper every morning. And it is a prayer the Good Shepherd delights to answer.
Image credit: iStock | BogdanV | photo ID:1651309580 | downloaded July 20-2026
Hidden Treasure
This coming Sunday is the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time. “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” Buried treasure is the stuff of popular stories in every age and while out “pirates” no longer sail the Seven Seas we seem content with stories of lottery winners. Given Israel’s location at the crossroads of major powers to the north and east and to the south (Egypt) there is a long history of wars and rumors of war playing out upon the promised land.
“Buried treasure” was a realistic possibility. Before banking was generally established, to hide wealth in the form of coins, metals or jewels in a jar or box in the ground was a recognized way of securing it, especially in times of crisis; the famous Copper Scroll from Qumran Cave 3 lists the locations of huge caches of precious metals and other buried treasure. But consider Mt 25:25, where a talent of gold is buried. The “talent” was equivalent to almost 20 years of daily wages and would have been a “treasure” worth finding.
In the face of a rumor of war or war itself, a family might well bury their valuables. If no one survived the battles or sieges, there was indeed buried treasure to find. There were also rabbinic guidelines for what one did when finding such treasures. Even if you were the rightful owner of the land, you were obligated to make a reasonable search for the rightful owner of the buried valuables. Failing to find the original owners, the land owner could rightfully take possession of the treasure.
Presumably in this story the current owner of the field was unaware of it. The finder (presumably a worker employed by the land-owner) really has no immediate rights to the treasure even after he legally purchased the land. But he understands what is at stake and sells all that he may obtain the treasure. Many commentators have noted that it is the same with humanity – we have no right to salvation – it is an unmerited gift from God – so when it comes, grab it without hesitation or qualm.
It seems that the man’s action is dictated by pure self-interest, as would be the person who opts for the kingdom of heaven. The “sacrifice” of all that is sold is no hardship: it is done out of “delight,” not out of a sense of obligation. Once the kingdom of heaven is truly understood, nothing else can compare with it in value. One should also noted the OT theme of wisdom as being like hidden treasure (Prov 2:4; Job 28; cf. with a rather different twist, Sir 20:30). [France, 2007, 541]
Image credit: The Pearl of Great Price, by Domenico Fetti, 17th century |Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, Bilddatenbank | Public Domain
Walking in the World
There are times when I think groups within the Church offer us a false choice: opposition between liturgy and justice, or between ritual and discipleship. The Church has always taught that both are essential. Today’s readings for Mass pair Micah and Matthew which together have some food for thought about all this so that as the faithful we never mistake external expressions of faith for the whole of faith.
Micah imagines someone sincerely asking: “With what shall I come before the LORD?” (Mi 6:6) The answers become progressively more extravagant. Should I bring burnt offerings? year-old calves? thousands of rams? torrents of oil? Or even my firstborn? Micah is not dismissing sacrifice. Afterall, God himself commanded sacrifice through Moses. Rather, Micah asks: Can external acts of religion substitute for an interior life that reflects God’s own heart? His answer is unforgettable: “You have been told, O man, what is good, and what the LORD requires of you: Only to do the right and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Mi 6:8)
Notice that Micah does not replace worship; he reorders it. The sacrificial system only has meaning when it flows from justice, mercy, and humility.
Jesus faces a similar problem. The scribes and Pharisees ask: “Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.” (Mt 12:38) At first, this seems reasonable. But Matthew has already recorded numerous miracles: lepers that were healed, storms calmed, sight restored and demons cast out. The issue is not lack of evidence. It is a lack of receptivity. They want another sign because they have not allowed the earlier signs to change them. So Jesus points not to another miracle but to the repentance of Nineveh and the wisdom sought by the Queen of the South. Both responded to far less than what now stands before Israel.
Again, the issue is not external. It is the disposition of the heart.
These readings speak with surprising clarity to the Church where there is a renewed appreciation for reverent liturgy, Gregorian chant, Eucharistic devotion, sacred silence, traditional vestments, kneeling, Latin, beautiful churches, and careful observance of rubrics. Much of this renewal is genuinely good. The Church has always taught that beauty leads us toward God. The danger is not these practices themselves. The danger is thinking that they are sufficient.
Micah would ask: does your reverence at Mass make you more just? Does it make you kinder? More patient? More generous? More truthful? More humble? Jesus might ask if the beautiful liturgies and devotions have led you to repentance? Have they made you more like Christ?
It is a challenge that cuts both ways as the readings speak the faithful no matter where they exist on the spectrum. These same questions can be those who emphasize: social justice, outreach, and inclusion while being less attentive to the beauty of more traditional practices. Are these members rooted and grounded in liturgy, prayer, the Sacraments, adoration, or these more?
I think the readings caution us against confusing signs of holiness with Holiness itself. Someone may kneel beautifully, know every rubric, sing every chant, receive Communion on the tongue, pray in Latin, and still be impatient, unkind, self-righteous, unforgiving, or indifferent to the poor. Conversely, someone whose external devotional life is simpler may quietly embody Micah’s words every day. That is not an argument against reverence. It is an argument for ensuring reverence reaches the heart.
James 2:18, “I will demonstrate my faith to you from my works,” is often cited as a grounding for social justice action and activity. Repurposing James’ comments: “You do well, but even non-believers do these things.” Are they signs of holiness that point to an interior Holiness? Can one authentically emphasize social justice, outreach, and inclusion while neglecting prayer, the sacraments, adoration, or reverent worship?
The Catechism speaks to all this when it says that the liturgy is the “summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed” and the “font from which all her power flows” (CCC 1074). Notice the image. A fountain exists to send water outward. The Eucharist is meant to become Christian life. The Mass should form us into people who “do right, love goodness, and walk humbly with God.”
Micah is not replacing worship with ethics. Nor is Jesus replacing signs with moral effort. Rather, both insist that worship and life belong together. The Mass without charity becomes a hollow ritual. Charity without worship loses its deepest source.
Micah and Jesus are calling the fullness of religion to fulfill its purpose. Beautiful liturgy is a gift. Reverence is a gift. Tradition is a gift. But the measure of every Mass is not only how beautifully it is celebrated. The deeper question is: What kind of people does it send back into the world? If the Eucharist truly forms us, then we should become more just, more merciful, more humble, more forgiving, and more like Christ. For in the end, God is looking not only at how we worship, but at what our worship is making of us.
Image credit: created with Dalle-3 | downloaded Jul-18-2026 | prompt: “Based on Micah 6:8, please prepare a 1200 by 675 px image of walking in the world with Micah”
More Parables
This coming Sunday is the 17th Sunday of Ordinary Time. We continue to listen to more parable from the Gospel of Matthew. Again we are presented with a doublet: the hidden treasure and the pearl of great price.
Matthew 13:44-52 44 “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. 45 Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls. 46 When he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it. 47 Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net thrown into the sea, which collects fish of every kind. 48 When it is full they haul it ashore and sit down to put what is good into buckets. What is bad they throw away. 49 Thus it will be at the end of the age. The angels will go out and separate the wicked from the righteous 50 and throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth. 51 “Do you understand all these things?” They answered, “Yes.” 52 And he replied, “Then every scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old.”
These two parables are unique to Matthew, following immediately upon the parables of the mustard seed and the yeast, and, in some cases, a narrative about Jesus’ use of parables.
| Parable of the Sower | Matthew 13:1-9 | Mark 4:1-9 | Luke 8:4-8 |
| Reason for Parables | Matthew 13:10-15 | Mark 4:10-12 | Luke 8:9-10 |
| Interpreting the Sower | Matthew 13:18-23 | Mark 4:13-20 | Luke 8:11-15 |
| Purpose of Parables | Mark 4:21-25 | Luke 8:16-18 | |
| Parable of the Weeds | Matthew 13:24-30 | ||
| Parable of the Mustard Seed | Matthew 13:31-32 | Mark 4:30-32 | Luke 13:18-19 |
| Parable of the Yeast | Matthew 13:33 | Luke 13:20-21 | |
| Jesus’ Use of Parable | Matthew 13:34-35 | Mark 4:33-34 | |
| Interpreting the Weeds | Matthew 13:36-43 | ||
| Parables of Hidden Treasure and Pearl of Great Price | Matthew 13:44-46 | ||
| Parable of the Net | Matthew 13:47-50 | ||
| Parable of Treasure New and Old | Matthew 13:51-52 |
There is some discussion among scholars whether these parables were shared publicly or only given in private to the disciples. There is some support that since these unique parables follow a private explanation of the Parable of the Weeds without indication of a change of scene or audience, the simplest explanation is that somewhat a change of pattern, Jesus is preaching to the disciples. Many scholars also point to the similarities between these parables with that of the Weeds and the Net, then suggesting they are doublets meant to drive home Jesus’ point.
In any case, our gospel continues the themes of the kingdom parables which began with the start of Chapter 13. The first two parables (Hidden Treasure and the Pearl) continue the development of the theme of whole-hearted response with which the parable of the sower concluded. The third parable (the Net) is closely related to the parable of the weeds, and emphasizes again the division which the preaching of God’s kingdom brings.
The “day of parables” ends with a saying that expresses well the ideal to which the evangelist aspired: “Then every scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old.” The disciples need to understand the radically new act of God in Christ in the light of the Old Testament tradition. Such a person understands the relation between the new (Christ) and the old (Jewish tradition).
Image credit: The Pearl of Great Price, by Domenico Fetti, 17th century |Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, Bilddatenbank | Public Domain
Weeds, Wheat and Choice
Note: by the time you read this I should be on the way back from the Friar’s meeting. This was posted three years ago.
The “enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat.” We really should not be surprised. It’s the way it has always been. The “enemy” – a nice term for Satan, the devil and all the evil minions – are just doing what they have always done – offering us a choice.
In the Garden of Eden, humanity had it pretty good. Everything we could want. God came and walked with us in the cool of the afternoon. We were in communion with God. Imagine that, little ol’ us in communion with the one who is infinitely good, infinitely loving, infinitely just and so much more – and what God seeks is communion with us. God only asked one thing of Adam and Eve: eat of the tree of life, but do not eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Along comes the enemy to offer us a choice.
Adam and Eve could have chosen to remain in communion with God or they could grasp at control in order to decide what is good and what is evil; to set aside the moral compass that points to the goodness of God and have our own compass that points any way we choose. The enemy did not make anyone choose. The choice was ours. And so it remains today. The enemy is there hoisting up choices. And we hear it playing out in our thoughts, in what we tell others, or what others tell us. “It’s only a small thing.” “No one will ever know.” “What’s the harm?” “Don’t pretend you’re some holier-than-thou saint.”
I love the passage in the Gospel where Jesus quotes a Psalm: “I will open my mouth in parables, I will announce what has lain hidden from the foundation of the world.” Yup, since the foundation of the world we have been continually faced with the choice between the One who is Goodness and the source of all Good or giving in to the pursuit of some less good, or no good at all.
So when the enemy comes to sow weeds all through the wheat of our lives, the enemy is doing what he does – offering a choice. But in this gospel passage it’s not an easy this-or-that choice. Early on you can’t tell the difference between the baby wheat and the baby weeds. Later on when you can tell the difference the roots are all tangled up together, so if you try to uproot the weed, you’re pulling out wheat also. In the parable, Jesus is saying, this is the way the world will be: weeds and wheat together – because some will choose to be weeds and sow weeds throughout the kingdom. So, we are not to judge, but let it be and the harvester will take care of it: “collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barn.”
I guess we have no choice in the matter. Doesn’t Matthew 7:1 say, “Stop judging, that you may not be judged”? True, in so far as it is not our role who decides who will be bundled for burning and who ends up in the barn. But we do have a choice. Consider Matthew 18: “If your brother sins [against you], go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.”
You are in that situation of choosing when you think or say, “I thought they were my friend.” “How could they do that to me?” You know what the gospel says – go and talk to him or her. Want for them exactly what God wants for you – community. This is when the enemy offers you choices: “It’s no big thing. Let it slide.” “Just ghost them.” “Cancel them!” If you are the one whispering this to another, perhaps you are unwittingly acting as the enemy’s minion … just saying… In any case, this is how the harmony between you and that person begins to erode and perhaps the harmony between that person and God is also eroding. What are we to do?
The first reading from the Book of Wisdom reminds us, as does the gospel, that in the end God’s justice to God’s self demands a reckoning. God is justice, power and might – as so the scribe reminds us: “For your might is the source of justice; your mastery over all things makes you lenient to all.” Lenient to all who call upon God. Lenient, clement, merciful, kind. This is the character of God so beautifully expressed in Exodus 34:6: “… a merciful and gracious God, slow to anger and rich in kindness and fidelity.” Fidelity – that loyal love.
But though you are master of might, you judge with clemency, and with much lenience you govern us; for power, whenever you will, attends you. And you taught your people, by these deeds, that those who are just must be kind; and you gave your children good ground for hope that you would permit repentance for their sins. (Wisdom 12:16-19)
Clemency, mercy, grace, loyal love, kindness, hope – all these things are offered to us when we choose wrongly, rejecting the moral compass of God and choosing our own designs. This is what we are keeping from the friend to whom we won’t engage and reorient them to God’s design. This is what we need to offer our friend in the words and the way we speak: mercy, loyal love, and kindness.
This is what is waiting for us when our own moral compass is misdirected. It awaits us in prayer! “But, Father, I’m not sure I know how to pray when I feel so far from God.” You, me and St. Paul:
The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because he intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will. (Romans 8:26-27)
Pray for yourself, pray to know how to best approach that other person and know the clemency, mercy, grace, kindness and loyal love of God is right there with and for you.
Image credit: Parable of the Weeds among the Wheat, attributed to Isaac Claesz. van Swanenburg, 1590 – 1610, Public Domain
The Mustard Seed and Yeast
This coming Sunday is the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time. In this post we move away from the parable of the “Weeds among the Wheat.”
31 He proposed another parable to them. “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a person took and sowed in a field. 32 It is the smallest of all the seeds, yet when full-grown it is the largest of plants. It becomes a large bush, and the ‘birds of the sky come and dwell in its branches.’” 33 He spoke to them another parable. “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch was leavened.”
The mustard seed is an annual herb whose incredibly small seeds produce a plant that is normally 2 to 6 feet in height (possibly as tall as 10 feet) but it would not be mistaken for a tree. I mention “tree” because in the Greek the word dendron is used, which typically means “tree” but can refer to a large bush. So where the NAB ops for “becomes a large bush” other translations opt for “becomes a tree.” There is a case to be made for both. The tree motif reflects the symbol of the imperial tree found in representations of empires including the apocalyptic imagery of the Kingdom of God (see Ps 104:12, Dan 4:9, Ezek 17:23). It is imagery that persisted into the medieval age and appears in St. Bonaventure’s’ Tree of Life which birds of the sky come to dwell.
Some folks comment that Jesus is lampooning the apocalyptic view of the Kingdom. Perhaps, or rather continuing with the idea presented in the wheat/tares parable, the presence of the Kingdom here and now can be overlooked in its smallness and simplicity. One should remember the King of Kings entered Jerusalem on a donkey rather than a warhorse.
In the parable about the “yeast that a woman took and mixed with three measures of wheat flour ” Many commentaries focus on the yeast as a symbol of evil being mixed to the “wheat flour” of the proclamation of the Good News of the Kingdom. The word that is used (zymē) is better translated as “leaven.” The most typical course of making bread was to insert into the new dough a small amount of old, fermented dough reserved from the previous baking; it is this “leaven” (or sourdough) rather than “yeast” proper which the woman is here using. Our translation takes the Greek enkryptō and translates it as “mix” which is a viable translation. Equally viable is “hide” which is used in many modern translations. Retranslated, the passage becomes “leaven that a woman took and hid in three measures of wheat flour.” I would suggest that this translation is more aligned with the meaning of the other parables.
The three measures of flour (about 60 lbs) is an exaggerated amount, but even a small bit of leaven can have a great effect. The kingdom of Heaven might be insignificant when one considers the leaven, but the end result is mighty and wondrous.
There is much debate over the meaning of these two short parables. Some Christians believe that the imagery of the parables is meant to portray the presence of evil within professing Christendom. This is due primarily to an understanding of the Kingdom of Heaven as a “mystery” encompassing Christendom, understood as organized Christianity. Christendom as a whole contains evil elements mixed with the good, so both parables are usually viewed as picturing that evil. The birds nesting in the mustard tree are unbelievers. It is also pointed out that yeast is often a symbol of evil (Exod 12:15, 19; Matt 16:6, 11–12; 1 Cor 5:6–8; Gal 5:9; but see Lev 7:13–14; 23:17) and asserted that the parable of the yeast portrays the growth of evil within Christendom. This view of the parables is often held in conscious opposition to a view which understands the images of the growth of the Kingdom in the two parables as indicating the ultimate conversion of the world to Christianity before Christ returns.
There is good reason to disagree with the view that emphasizes the presence of evil. First, its understanding of the Kingdom of Heaven as the mystery of evil within Christendom between the two comings of Jesus is doubtful. Rather, the Kingdom in Matthew is the rule of God, inaugurated through the words and works of Jesus and consummated at his return. Second, it is very doubtful that straightforward statements that compare the Kingdom of God to yeast or to mustard seed should be understood as a portrayal of evil. After all, it is the growth of God’s rule, not Satan’s, which is being portrayed. One need not assume that birds or yeast must always be viewed as biblical symbols for evil—consider that the imagery of a lion portrays Satan in one context and Jesus in another (1 Pet 5:8; Rev 5:5). The parables of the mustard seed and the yeast speak of the deceptively subtle yet dramatically significant growth of God’s Kingdom. Despite frequent fruitless responses to the Kingdom message, it does bear much fruit in many cases (13:23). Even John the Baptist may doubt its advance, but it is advancing just the same (11:1–6). The strong man is being bound, and his goods are being plundered (12:29).
While some may view this advance of the Kingdom over-optimistically, others view the present age too pessimistically because they do not acknowledge that the Kingdom was inaugurated and began its advance during the earthly ministry of Jesus. It may presently seem as insignificant as a mustard seed, but it will eventually be the largest tree in the garden. Its growth may be as imperceptible as the influence of yeast in a loaf of bread, but in the end it will be pervasive throughout the earth. The use of humble symbols like mustard seeds and yeast is appropriate for God’s humble servant who does not cry out in the streets (12:19) and who rides into Jerusalem on a donkey, not a stallion (21:1–5). The majority of scholars hold that these parables portray a contrast between the present reality and the ultimate destiny of the Kingdom. That which is now humble will be glorious. The realization that God is already at work and that there is a unity of the ultimate with the present should give all believers hope.
Image credit: Parable of the Weeds among the Wheat, attributed to Isaac Claesz. van Swanenburg, 1590 – 1610, Public Domain
Our Impatience with the Weed
This coming Sunday is the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The landowner (God) is quite patient and accepts that there will be “weeds” among the harvest – it is the lot of the human enterprises. Some people do not/will not/cannot hear the Word sown in their lives. The laborers in the parable are quick to want to eradicate the poison. I think history has shown that we reach beyond our calling – not to simply point out error – but to extinguish the source and root of that error. In the first centuries of the Church, when some of the epic battles over theological orthodoxy and heresy were waged, executions were not part of the Church’s response. There might be condemnation, banishment and loss of position, but people were not put to death. Yet a millennia later the island nation of England has its book of Protestant and Catholic martyrs as witness to our human reaction to “weeds” among us, despite the Gospel message.
Patricia Datchuck Sánchez nicely summarizes this point:
In marked contrast to the forbearance and patience of God, there is a tendency among his creatures to distinguish, discriminate and, all too often, to disparage and even to dispose of one another. Differences which are perceived as a measure of weakness or a diminishment of personal worth have unfortunately proven to be sufficient impetus for provoking some of the darkest periods in the history of humankind.
In an effort to separate “good” from “bad”, or the law-abiding from the insurgents, Claudius forced a separation and commanded all Jews to leave Rome (ca. 49-50 C.E.). Centuries later, Jews would be similarly expelled from Spain (1492). Later yet, and in an act of unique horror, Adolf Hitler attempted to definitively separate and annihilate every Jewish person in order to construct what he perceived to be a superior race. When he was finally stopped in 1945, only 3,000,000 out of a population of 9,000,000 Jews in Europe remained alive. Millions of non-Jews were also killed during the third Reich, their only crime being the fact that they were judged as different and therefore lesser than their persecutors.
During the Middle Ages (ca. 1150 C.E.), formal investigative tribunals were established with an eye to safeguarding the integrity and authenticity of the faith. But when Pope Innocent III declared heresy a capital time in 1199 C.E. and when the Fourth Lateran Council (1215 C.E.) provided secular punishment for heretics, all manner of cruelty and injustice ensued. Inquisitors were ruthless in their prosecution of those whose ideas ranged anywhere from the truly heretical to the merely diverse. Those alleged to be heretics had no rights; they were forced to prove their own innocence without benefit of counsel.
Similar attempts at separating those judged to be orthodox from those who were not resulted in the infamous witch trials which swept Europe from the thirteenth to the early eighteenth century and crossed the Atlantic to take hold in the Americas in the seventeenth century. Religious intolerance perpetrated the torture and deaths of actual practitioners of black magic, necromancy, etc. as well as others who were accused simply because they happened to have red hair, or who, because of nervousness may have stumbled through the Lord’s Prayer.
Segregation and separation of peoples because of their different ideas, or social mores, has been a blight on the visage of humanity for centuries.
Image credit: Parable of the Weeds among the Wheat, attributed to Isaac Claesz. van Swanenburg, 1590 – 1610, Public Domain
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