To fight ‘weeds,’ we must be as tenacious and persistent

Nature and I have a lovehate relationship. I love the beauty of a sunrise or sunset, the bountiful harvests celebrated in recent weeks through “fair season,” and Connecticut’s mountains and seascapes.

But nature can get aggressive. I’m not talking about Hurricane Ida, with its loss of lives and property, although that is quite sad and a subject for another day. I’m talking about weeds.

Even as the growing season has slowed, weeds abound. In my recent retirement, I have become a more active volunteer on the Valley Railroad along the Connecticut River. Much of my work has been cutting back weeds and growth that impinges the rail line. Left unchecked, it would surely take over. The work reminds me of the old bromide of the preacher who told the farmer, “God and you have a mighty fine spread, farmer.” “Yes, preacher,” came the reply, “and you should have seen it when just God had it.”

All of this suggests that the ministry of lay and clergy — that is, living the Christian life and being the Church — is weed-whacking.

Ministry is weed-whacking. Sometimes that is literal. A colleague began his ministry nearly a half-century ago, clearing the grounds of his small church in Maryland near Washington, D.C. He challenged the people: “What does this unkempt appearance say about you?

To me, it says you don’t care.” I recalled his story when assigned to my last church, enlisting volunteers and rolling up my sleeves to clear parcels on either side of the church entrance that were so weedchoked that one neighbor said he thought the church was abandoned. Today both patches are clear, mulched, and one holds a prayer garden. Prayers are wonderful things to plant. And God does the harvesting!

Sometimes the weedwhacking is spiritual. All manner of insidious growths can thwart our best intentions. Pride, envy, ill-will, prejudice and bigotry rise up in the midst of our individual lives and corporate congregations, muting some of the good we do and choking out other goodness entirely. British philosopher John Stuart Mill’s 1867 inaugural address at the University of St. Andrews pithily observed: “Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.” We do well to address the weeds when they first arise, rather than waiting to hope they might disappear (they never do) or that someone else might do it.

Jesus’ story of the wheat and the tares (Matthew 13:24-30) reminds us that weeds can get in with the best of seed. “An enemy has done this,” so the parable states. The weed, Darnel, can look an awful lot like wheat. So Jesus’ counsel in the parable is to wait until the harvest to do the weeding, lest the good be lost with the bad.

This is challenging to weed-whackers like me. I’m the good seed, right? I’m one of the good guys, right? Truth is, there’s a bit of weediness in all of us. Jesus’ admonition to wait is a word of grace, giving the “lost” a chance to come home and the self-righteous a chance to come to their senses. Or the other way around. Perhaps the hymnist expresses it best:

“All the world is God’s own field, fruit as praise to God we yield;

wheat and tares together sown are to joy or sorrow grown;

first the blade and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear;

Lord of harvest, grant that we wholesome grain and pure may be.”

— “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come,” verse 2

So clear the weeds. This year. Just don’t be discouraged. Because they’ll be back. As infuriating as they are, their tenacity and persistence is impressive. So let’s adopt tenacity and persistence of our own! Pray and work to be individuals and communities of wholesome and pure grain for the Lord of the harvest.

Bodt