Readings (Track 1)

If we’re feeling some whiplash after today’s combination of readings it means we’ve been paying attention. They mostly go in different directions—so let’s attend to them separately.

Genesis. Last week we watched Jacob get Esau’s birthright in exchange for a serving of stew. Since then, that strange scene (equal parts farce and tragedy) in which Jacob, dressed up to smell and feel like Esau, tricks his blind father Isaac into giving him Esau’s blessing. Since then, all Esau’s fantasies have focused on ways to kill Jacob, so Jacob’s been sent off to the relatives until Esau’s anger cools. And in all this God has said nothing to Jacob.

Doubtless, Esau would have had plenty of suggestions as to what God might say—or do. “Oh, that you would slay the wicked, O God!” (v.18 from our psalm). What God does say: a reiteration of the promises made to Abraham and Isaac, and “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”

In short: “I love you; I have hopes for you; I look forward to what we can do together.” (Paul talks about hope in our second reading; we’re not the only ones who hope!) Scripture as a whole encourages us to hear these words to Jacob as God’s address to each one of us. Take today’s lessons home and reflect on these words during the week. Imagine God expressing that love to you. In today’s psalm (v.13): “I will thank you because I am marvelously made; / your works are wonderful, and I know it well.” Texts like today’s Genesis reading help us believe that.

We let the Genesis reading run a bit farther than the Lectionary assigned to hear the rest of Jacob’s reaction. It’s pure Jacob, that Jacob that’s part of many of us. God’s promise is too general: Jacob wants it nailed down: “If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat and clothing to wear, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace, then…” This distrust doesn’t serve Jacob well, but it’s part of the package, part of the package that God—unsurprised—is dealing with. “Lord, you have searched me out, and known me” applies also to Jacob. And perhaps Jacob’s distrust is part of the futility that Paul talks about that we bring to the table.

Romans. There’s a lot we could notice here; for today I’m focusing on futility. ‘Futility’: Paul uses the word the Greek translation used for the hebel ‘vanity’ that the preacher wrestles with throughout the book of Ecclesiastes. Paul describes it—in passing—as being God’s choice. If asked to explain, I think Paul would say that faced with human disobedience and valuing human freedom, God chooses to let the history play out, including the effects of these disobedient choices, a divine choice that admittedly brings significant pain. “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate” (Gen. 3:12) says Adam, and so sets the stage for patriarchy. And, since—as the ecologists keep reminding us—everything is connected to everything—human choices damage all creation, so that, as Paul puts it “the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now.” So an important take-away: if groaning is part of our present experience, it’s not because we lack faith, or have hit a particularly rough patch (although these things could also be true), but because that’s an appropriate response to our situation, a situation survivable, as Paul reminds us, only by hope.

Matthew. Two weeks ago, we hit the question: if Jesus is “the one who is to come” (John the Baptist’s words), why isn’t there more visible progress? And we heard Jesus’ answer: the “wise” and “intelligent” wouldn’t recognize the Kingdom if it was right in front of them; come to me (all of you!) and I will give you rest. But, since it’s not a simple question, we heard another answer last week: even the divine word is at once powerful and vulnerable: the soil really matters. So “Let anyone with ears listen!”

And because it’s not a simple question, we hear another answer in today’s reading: the Son of Man isn’t the only one sowing seed. (This is another dimension of the futility Paul mentions!) Perhaps the clearest echo of this parable is in our baptismal rite:

Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?

I renounce them.

Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?

I renounce them. (BCP 302)

As soil, we need to choose which seed to welcome, and keep choosing.

Equally relevant is the interchange within the parable:

Then do you want us to go and gather them?

No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them.

As other New Testament texts show, in some circumstances “Let both of them grow together” is not the end of the conversation. But it’s a standing warning that attempts to separate weeds and wheat bring their own dangers. Recall Joseph McCarthy and the red scare in the 50s or the church conflicts over women’s ordination and sexuality. It’s relevant on the personal level. Star Trek TNG fans may recall the episode “The Tapestry.” Captain Picard’s artificial heart is failing. He has an artificial heart because of an impetuous decision in his youth. The character named “Q” gives him the chance to go back in time and make a different decision. But as a result of the different decision, he turns out to be a colorless ensign quite unfit for any command. Wheat and weeds: not always so easy to distinguish.

Psalm 139. The psalms are tools for both prayer and reflection. Tools for prayer: there are circumstances in which what’s in our hearts can only be expressed by verses 18-21 (“Oh, that you would slay the wicked, O God!”). Prayer is not the place to pretend we’re other than we are. And since God knows who we are (the rest of Psalm 139)… For that matter, wheat and weeds: if “the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God” don’t move me to anger, something else is wrong. So the verses are there—but precariously. The psalms as tools for reflection: Jesus’ example (“Come to me, all you…”) warns me that my “restless thoughts” and “wickedness” (at the end of the psalm) might relate to vv.18-21 in uncomfortable ways. Both vv.18-21 and 22-23 may have their roles: vv.18-21 to guard against assuming I’m so “advanced” that these would never cross my lips, vv.22-23 to guard against getting stuck in my anger.

How do we wrap this up? Maybe like this. The psalm’s v.13: “I will thank you because I am marvelously made; / your works are wonderful, and I know it well.” That points to our past and present. At the end of today’s Gospel: “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!” That’s the future God hopes for for each of us. With Jacob, we might find it too general, not nailed down enough. Nevertheless, it does give us our marching orders: “Let anyone with ears listen!”