Yesterday I wrote about the foolishness of this Sunday’s
gospel lesson (Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43), questioning why any farmer would wait
until the harvest to separate the wheat and weeds. It’s time consuming. It
limits the yield of your harvest. It’s better to eradicate the weeds as early
in the growing process as possible. The point of the parable, therefore, is
that the only “farmer” who would do that is God. But that leaves us with a big,
tough question: why would God do that?
I’m especially fond of what Steve Pankey wrote yesterday
because, like him, I try my best to avoid allegory when interpreting parables.
Usually, when I try to make everything in a parable represent something in real
life, the image breaks down or fails to reflect the nuances of the story.
Instead, I like to treat parables as brain teasers that leave you wondering and
searching for answers rather than knowing exactly what is being said. (Unfortunately?)
Jesus doesn’t give us that chance because, for the second week in a row, he
gives us his own allegorical interpretation of the parable at hand: “The one
who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world, and the good
seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evil
one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil…” Don’t worry, however, as Jesus’
explanation leaves us with as many questions as answers.
Jesus declares, “the harvest is the end of the age, and the
reapers are angels.” Wait, what? The end of the age I understand. Weeds in the
hellfire. Wheat in the kingdom’s silos. Actually, I’m not sure I understand the
last judgment, but it’s a fairly familiar image to me. But angels? It’s times
like this when I wish I understood a lot more about the eschatology of Second
Temple Judaism and its first-century Palestinian variants. Maybe a later post
will delve into the intricacies of the role angels play in eschatology, but,
for now, let’s stick with wheat and weeds, heaven and hell.
Who is hell for? What purpose does it fill? This is one of
many sayings of Jesus that divide up the afterlife into a pleasant kingdom
experience we call “heaven” and a miserable torturous experience we call “hell.”
That each member of humanity is destined for one or the other seems to be Jesus’
understanding and expectation. But why? What purpose does hell serve? Does the
divine economy of justice depend upon some people suffering for all eternity because
of their sins? Not if you believe in the startling grace that is at the heart
of Christianity. Sure, maybe the abstract concept of punishment needs to exist
so that the reversed consequences of our brokenness can stand in our minds as God’s
clear victory, but we don’t really need hell, do we?
Actually, I think we do—or at least some of us do. In my
mind, the part of the parable that governs the whole image is 13:29-30a. When
asked by his servants whether they should go ahead and pull up the weeds (the worldly
logical approach), the master replied, “No; for in gathering the weeds you
would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until
the harvest.” That’s the real sticking point here. That’s the real kernel of
the parable. That’s the point at which the audience scratched their heads and said,
“Wait, what?” And that’s the part we’re supposed to focus on.
Why doesn’t God rid the world of “bad people?” Why doesn’t
he command that all of us “good people” build a flotilla of arks so that he can
flood the whole earth and start over as he did in Genesis? Well, because he
promised not to, which is to say that we recognize that God has the power and
the justification to do just that but still chooses not to. The world is full
of good people and bad people. And sometimes the good people feel outnumbered. Sometimes
the oppressed ask why God doesn’t just come in and pluck their enemies off the
face of the earth. Sometimes those who suffer wonder why God doesn’t just
strike their enemies down with a plague or a lightning bolt. But wondering and
asking and praying and hoping won’t make it so. Too often, justice isn’t to be
found in this world—only in the next.
All of us depend upon God’s promise that one day everything
will be made right. All suffering will cease. The prisoners will be set free.
The lowly will be lifted up, and the mighty will be pulled down. We look for
that day, but we know that we have to wait until “the end of the age” for it to
happen. And so we need hell—at least the concept of hell. We need to know that
someday oppression itself will be imprisoned. We need to know that torture
itself will be tortured. Does God need it to work that way? I don’t think so—otherwise
he’d go ahead and pull those weeds out. But those who will live their entire
lives under the threat of evil must cling to the hope that, in the next life, those
weeds will be thrown into the fiery furnace.
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