Wheat & Tares

[a sermon preached by the Revd Piers Northam]

19 July 2026 – Trinity 7  
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

‘The wheat and the tares’

As the Lectionary takes us through Matthew’s Gospel, we come to the Parable of the Good and Bad Seed – or the Wheat and the Tares.  The gardening or farming theme continues – I suspect Jesus could well be a fan of Gardener’s World or Farming Today – so last week we had the Parable of the Sower where the Sower sowed seed extravagantly, broadcasting widely, so that it fell on a variety of different types of ground.  In today’s story however, Jesus focuses on the contrast between the good and bad seed; or between the wheat and the tares as some translations have it.

Historically and in biblical texts, a tare is a plant called Poison Darnel (or Lolium temulentum if you’re BBC TV Gardener, Monty Don).  The thing about this particular plant is that it grows to look exactly like wheat in its early stages – it’s pretty much indistinguishable – and of course that’s why the Master doesn’t want his servants to pull up the weeds, for in doing so they might pull up the wheat too.  And every grain, every seedling is precious to him.

Of course when the disciples later ask for the parable to be unpacked, Jesus explains that the field is the world, the sower is the Son of Man and he refers to the wheat as the children of the kingdom and the tares as the children of the evil one.  I have to admit, there’s a part of me that struggles with this, for I think there’s a temptation from this to assume that the world is simply divided into good people and wicked people, with the good ones destined for heaven and the baddies destined for hell.  Almost as if there’s no choice or agency in the matter.

But I think it’s a wee bit more complicated than that…  For a start the good and the bad are indistinguishable – the tares look just like the wheat: so much so that the workmen in the field would have a hard time telling them apart and might finish by uprooting the wrong ones.  What Jesus says is that the moment of sorting and judgement will come later.  And anyway, it’s not for us to judge, for there is only One who can judge and who can truly discern what lies in people’s hearts.
There’s a warning here – not to think that we can take a glance at someone and simply write them off as being what we might consider to be a bad seed.  I think anyone who’s experienced being marginalised at some point in their lives will have a sense of what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that.  Yet of course, in these polarised times, that’s what we’re constantly being encouraged to do, isn’t it?  To make judgements about others; to decide whether they’re in or out.  And if we don’t like the cut of their jib or the way they think or live their lives, then we’re encouraged to consign them to the fire, pronto.  But that’s not what the Lord of the Harvest would have us do.  No, he says, let them grow together…

And by the same token, it can be all too seductive to simply assume that we’re the good seed – that somehow, we’ve got it right and that we’re just fine and dandy as we are.  But again, I think we’re being invited to look deeper than that. 

Because as I pondered further on this story, it seemed to me that both the good and the bad seed can sit within each of us.  There are times when the fields of our hearts are full of ripening corn; when they are yielding good fruit for the kingdom.  But there are other times when the tares grow up and diminish the potential harvest.  When the Evil One gets to us and sullies the crop.  When we get seduced or distracted, or pulled away from God.

St Augustine, in a sermon on this parable, puts it rather beautifully:

“Listen, dearest grains of Christ; listen, Christ’s precious ears of wheat; listen, Christ’s dearest corn.  Take a look at yourselves, go back to your consciences, interrogate your faith, interrogate your love, stir up your consciences.  And if you discover that you are good grain, let the thought occur to you, ‘Whoever perseveres to the end will be saved.’ 

Any of you who, on shaking up their consciences, finds themselves among the weeds must not be afraid to change.  The command hasn’t yet been given to cut, it isn’t the harvest yet; don’t be today what you were yesterday, or at least don’t be tomorrow what you are today.”  [1]

‘You must not be afraid to change.’  Augustine is encouraging us to take a good look at ourselves and our motivations; to see where our hearts lie,  But he also sees in each of us the possibility to change.  For tomorrow comes with a new dawn. 

There may be times when we realise that the tares are taking over, but the Good News is that nothing is irredeemable with and through Jesus, for our God is the God of new beginnings and new life; of forgiveness and fresh starts; always ready to plant seed afresh in the fields of our hearts.  Perhaps that’s also why letting the two grow together is important – because in God’s economy, tares – through the power of Jesus – can become wheat.  There is the potential in all of us; none of us is a lost cause to our Father in heaven.

And finally, (because the more you ponder one of Jesus’ stories, the more viewpoints you discover…) we’ve thought about being the seed, but it’s also worth thinking about what sort of sowing we are doing.  How – and what – are we planting into other people’s lives?  Are we working for the Son of Man and planting seed that will yield a harvest; wheat with the potential to become the bread of life?  Or are we coming by night and sowing bitter tares in others’ fields?  When we pass judgement about people and spread negativity we’re sowing those tares; when we close our hearts and our minds to people, we’re sowing those tares.  We have to be vigilant to ensure that we’re always planting the good seed.

The raising and nurturing of plants is a long game.  Last week our preacher talked about how ‘much of God’s work happens beneath the surface.  Seeds spend a long time underground before anyone sees signs of life.’  And she went on to say that

‘God is often working beneath the surface long before we can see the results.  […] Our role is to cooperate.  […] Every act of kindness is tending the seed.  Every prayer is watering the seed.  Every act of hospitality is nourishing the seed.  […] we are cultivating the ground where God is already at work.’  [2]

Jesus calls us to sow good seed in our own lives and the lives of those around us; to beware being seduced by the Evil One into planting bitter tares; and to leave the final judgement to Him.

Amen.


[1] St Augustine – Sermon 73A on the Parable of the Wheat and the Tares

[2] Rachel Griffiths – sermon preached on the Parable of the Sower – St Mary-at-Latton 12 July 2026

Piers Northam teaches Interior Design at the Inchbald School of Design, London.
He is priest in The Church Of England and particularly serves at St Mary-at Latton- Harlow.

Meadowsweet

photo:Gill Henwood.

Meadowsweet
photographed in the English Lake District. Reflection by my friend Gill Henwood.

In a damp field, tall Meadowsweet has spread across from the track verge to the woodland.
Sweetly scented, attracting insects and humans alike, meadowsweet has been used for flavouring,
herbal remedies and strewing cottage floors. 
Once named ‘Bridewort’, the flowers were woven into garlands for summer brides, perfect to celebrate village wedding days

Every summer, I used to cut some meadowsweet from ditches for the church windowsills. Placed in simple tall jugs and jars, the scent perfumed the side aisle while south sunlight filtered through the beautiful soft flower plumes.
Now, I welcome meadowsweet in our garden dell, leaving the grasses and rosebay willowherb for insects and the elephant moth caterpillars.

The heatwave is bringing glory to the damp meadows too, with their roots deep into the wild soil. No sun reaches through to dry out the field, creatures have a sanctuary to hide in, owls and kestrels watch the tracks for small prey.

This wild field isn’t cut by humans, but manages itself. Badgers visit too, unseen by us. The mysterious life of one wonderful field.

Sweet Meadow Queen, bring peace into this space.
Like your frothy blooms, let turbulent thoughts drift away.
Heal the body, soothe the mind, and calm the weary heart.
May this flower bring love, joy, and comfort to my home,
Rooting me in the present moment.
So be it.

[GH 16th July 2026]

‘BELTIES’ at rest

My friend, Gill Henwood, has sent me this photograph of cattle resting from the heat near Coniston in the Lake District.
Here’s her short refection.

The Belties (Belted Galloway cows) and their recent calves have chosen deep shade on the felltop, where a cool breeze is lifting from Coniston Water up the hill towards them.

An essay on how to keep cool. A couple of mornings ago, they were down at the water edge of Tarn Hows. They are free range around the National Trust fells, choosing the best resting places for the young calves. As parents do. 

As our heavenly Father does when we listen in Creation to the wind and shade and the weather warnings…

Every blessing,
Gill Henwood

… for the people of Venezuela

We bring before you the people of Venezuela and the horrific earthquake
that has hit that country around the capital and beyond. 
We pray, almighty God, that their resilience will be strengthened
by your sheltering them under your wings. 
We pray for those who are still trapped, yet alive;
we pray for the souls of the dead and all who mourn the loss of loved ones.
Bless the search teams;
we pray for the sniffer dogs which can detect human life;
for the rescuers
as they prepare for finding any bodies, alive or dead;
we pray for the miracles whenever a person is found;
we thank you for the life of the baby that was found alive, and the child today.

Lord help us to hold all in our prayers and so touch them with our concern
and our love.
Into your gracious keeping we commend all in need, despair and without hope
at this time.
Amen.

{Ruth Howes}