A 100, 60, 30 harvest in a weedy world

A few years ago, a church member came to worship in a tizzy.

In her hand, she tightly clutched some vegetation.

Rather than speaking to the chair of the Property Committee, she spoke to the student intern and the pastor. She held what the pastor believed to be Johnson grass. Apparently, 13 minutes before worship is a great time to talk to ministers about what was, actually, behiagrass. She knew her weeds. The classic V shape of the seed head of the forage crop was the tell-tale sign. “V does not stand for ‘victory!’ We are losing the battle. Do something!”

Behiagrass, like Kudzu, was a gift that was intended to prevent erosion. New highways were being cut; it was before the days of hydro-seeding. Post-Dust Bowl, farmers in the South were paid to plant the miracle vine that had “a healing touch.” Both Kudzu and Behia proved to be more than anyone bargained for. Horses and cows didn’t much like it. It took over Bermuda Hay and just about everything else. As a child, perhaps you were warned about sleeping near Kudzu as it was known to grow over children, overnight. It certainly could hide telephone poles and old motel signs.

Jesus tells three agricultural parables back-to-back. Lectionary churches using the gospel will hear all three. Ground conditions, weeds planted by terrorists, and small, but powerful, mustard seeds, are the basis for stories about faith, the call to evangelize, spiritual struggles, and the challenges of “bringing in the sheaves.”

Recently I have heard fine people of faith — people with good vocabularies and a general disdain for profanity — use “blue” words when talking about dandelions. These deeply tap rooted, large, low-growing-leafed beasts take over and smother the grass. Mowing them over only encourages them to send their roots deeper, or bifurcate, and come back with resolve. To remove the dandelion usually means damaging the grass around it. Jesus’ parable nails the frustration. To remove weeds has consequences.

At first, the parable seems to be of the wisdom type. Keep calm and water on…. God will take care of things.

Upon closer inspection, it could harken back to the book of Genesis and the consequences of apple eating. They became tillers of the (now) cursed ground. Thorns, thistles, dandelions and behia. Eating the apple did not bring about the victory the serpent promised.

All major religions have a time of self-reflection. In what way am I (or am I not) furthering peace and harmony? In what way am I (or not) making the world a brighter place? In what ways am I (or not) being a moral person?

Locally, we might reflect: In what ways am I sowing seeds of harmony, or racism and community strife? Me? Certainly not I!

Yet, as I think about dandelions and childhood, I recall the way the neighbors and I would take the lacy white orbs and blow on them, scattering the seeds. Such fun, especially in the fall light. Such innocence.

But now, fighting these beasts in the lawn, I ponder: “What was I thinking? Doing?”

May God grant us insight as to how to be good soil, to prevent erosion of soil and values, spread good seeds, deal with bad weeds, and have a bountiful 100 fold harvest. Even with leftovers to share.

This story was originally published July 21, 2017 at 9:00 PM with the headline "A 100, 60, 30 harvest in a weedy world."