Homily

In this sixteenth Sunday of after Pentecost, we continue reading chapter 13 in Matthew’s Gospel begun last Sunday. It is the “chapter of the parables,” all of which are centred on the image of the “kingdom of heaven.” It is a central topic in Jesus’ preaching and thus decisive for the very understanding of the Gospel and of God’s will for humanity. With three parables, the Kingdom is compared first to the stalks of grain obliged to live together with the weeds, then with to a microscopic seed, that of the mustard, which however becomes a great tree and, finally, to a little bit of yeast which is able to leaven a great amount of dough.
Listening to these Gospel words brings about a broadening of the heart and intelligence so as to be able to judge and live the events of human life. The parable of the weeds has perhaps been decisive in some historical moments when religious persons saw the rights of the truth threatened and felt the need to defend them. It can be said that Christians who have a long history of waging religious wars, have found principally in this Scripture passage an occasion to reflect, rethink and doubt the goodness of their approach. The owner of the field, in fact, has a very peculiar way of behaving. He becomes aware that an enemy has sown weeds where he had sown good seed. And yet, he prevents the servants who bring this to his attention from cutting the weeds that are bad.
Why does this landowner stop the zeal of those who after all want only to defend his work? The question introduces us into the abyss of the mystery of God’s love. In the Book of Wisdom (the first reading) one reads, “Although you are in strength, you judge with mildness…because you give repentance for sins.” Human justice should pause before the mystery of mercy. We could say that the history of Christian tolerance, as well as that of its betrayal begins with this parable. It is a parable that cuts at its root the truly evil weed of Manichaeism, of every possible discrimination between good and evil, just and unjust people. Here in a nutshell is the invitation not only to unlimited tolerance, but also to respect for one’s enemy, even when he is not only a personal enemy, but an enemy of a just and holy cause, of God, of justice, of the nation, of freedom.
This parable, so far from our logic and behaviour, establishes a culture of peace. Today, when we witness the proliferation of tragic local conflicts and the facile race to scapegoat (when one feels stronger), it is necessary to pose once more this Gospel word so that we may give privilege to, or at least not exclude, the time for dialogue and negotiations. To seek dialogue is not a sign of weakness or of yielding; it is giving every person the possibility of going down deep into his or her heart in order to find anew the image of God and His righteousness. This requires the intelligence and cleverness of looking our enemy in the face, and of recognizing his or her good faith and the same sincere desire for peace. This is how one overcomes the logic of enmity.
The parable does not say that there are no enemies. Quite the contrary! It indicates a different way of treating them: rather than violently mowing them down, which runs the risk of tearing up the good wheat, we are encouraged to wait and select patiently. It is a great wisdom that contains an incredible force. Truly, this parable of tolerance and peace is like that little mustard seed and that handful of yeast. If we let it grow within us and in the depths of the human story it will defeat enmity and the spirit of war. The decision of the owner of the field, if embraced, can transform all humanity. The fact that an evil plant grows should not frighten us. What counts is to make the good plant grow as much as possible. Thus the Kingdom of Heaven is made firm already on the earth.