
Sunday’s Gospel in the Vetus Ordo… read for many hundreds of years so that we would know it well, so that it would be part of our Catholic marrow.
As I read the Gospel again for this Sunday, I am minded of what has been going on in the Church for a while now. It is chilling to see. However, we have the assurance from the Lord that He will sort things out in the end.
Let’s see the Gospel. Read aloud if you want! It’s the Word of God.
Another parable he put before them, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field; 25 but while men were sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. 26 So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared also. 27 And the servants of the householder came and said to him, ‘Sir, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then has it weeds?’ 28 He said to them, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The servants said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ 29 But he said, ‘No; lest in gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them. 30 Let both grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Gather the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’” (RSV)
One of the themes of artwork depicting the Parable of the Wheat and Tares is the indolence of those who should be tending to the field. In the image above shows the workers not only asleep, but also in a state of post-debauch. Right click it for larger. Not only are they debauched, there is a goat nearby symbolizing what they’ve been up to, a horse is untethered showing their lack of care, there’s disorder in the equipment. A horned figure is in the field.
Here’s another. Large HERE

The Latin couplets at the bottom:
Segnitiem ut fugiant, sitque ut vigilantia cordi
His, quibus imbellis Christi concreditus est Grex;
Admonet, en, placidae Sator indulgere quieti
Dum satagit, mox hostis adest, qui subdolus inter
Germina legitimae segetis sparsum iacit illam
Ut lolium infelix sterili pessundet arista.
Another great image, and along the lines of the theme I will push on, below. The background in the building are various figures of different walks of life. In the privileged place is someone with a three-fold tiara. Who could that be? There is also a man in the background with a cardinal’s galero. There are a couple of bishops and a man with a scholar’s cap, like a Dominican friar. There are a few religious. Everyone’s hanging out, lying down, leaning on things, snoozing. Meanwhile, the ugly figure going about, clearly demonic, is a parody of all of them, with its two miter like horns and the religious tonsure.

To get at the serious nature of this parable, which would have made Christ’s listener’s blood run cold, we have to grasp the nature of the crime, the sowing of “tares” in an enemy’s field.
Above ground they look just like the wheat. Below ground they twine around and suffocate other root systems.
Above – benign. Below – deadly.
A field sown with tares, darnels, cockles, zizania, a rye grass Lolium temulentum … call them what you will… would be useless for a long time. That would be financially devastating because of the loss of crops. It could endanger people with famine.
The sowing of tares was so serious that the Romans made it a crime to sow them in enemy fields.
You can sense the desperate conversation that might have taken place amongst the servants until the master of the house makes the call.
“How could be? Isn’t our field good? Isn’t our seed wonderful?”
“How could this have happened?”
“We were just asleep for a little while and look what happened!”
The householder hearing it all, including that part about them being asleep says:
“An enemy has done this.”
On a micro level, we must consider vigilance. We note with Gregory the Great that, “If by habit we become acquainted with venial sins, we shall afterwards not be afraid of falling into great ones.” It doesn’t take long for sins to root and choke. An examination of conscience is critical in getting out of this mess.
On a macro level, we must examine – the Church. The Church is in the state that it is in… why? Clearly “we” were not vigilant. We were asleep. Athenagoras, addressing the problem of false teaching which contradict true doctrine said,
“false opinions are an aftergrowth from another sowing.”
An enemy has has sown deadly seed in the fields of the Church.
It has always been so. St. Augustine used the image of the wheat and the tares when dealing with the Donatist controversy. The Church is a “corpus permixtum malis et bonis… a body mixed-through with good men and evil.”
It has always been so. Out of the Twelve, there was one.
The Church today? An enemy has done this. An enemy has always done this.
And it seems like we always always always going to sleep and letting him sow.
We can’t go back in time, only forward. We can bring the correctives of the past forward to the present. The tried and the true must be the starting point, the reference. Corrections are needed.
Harvest time will come. The reapers will one day reap. There will be gathering, separating and, without question, burning.
Gathering, separating and burning is what we do in an examination of conscience and a good confession. That which is burned is gone. Sins confessed and absolved are GONE.
Gathering, separating and burning is what we are going to have to experience in the Church for it to pass from its present state. An enemy is planting weeds that choke off the good.
It is no small matter to be asked to stand by and watch as the wheat struggles in its battle with the enemy, in the form of suffocating, life thieving tares.
There is only so much that can be done as individuals except in one’s one sphere of weeding, and then with great care for the wheat.
Do not sleep. Be vigilant. Examine your conscience. Weed your plot. Gather your tares. Take them to the fire, the raging and unquenchable fire of God’s love.
GO TO CONFESSION.
Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.
Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have taken and given honour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.
Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children’s children
When the time of sorrow is come?
They will take to the goat’s path, and the fox’s home,
Fleeing from the foreign faces and the foreign swords.
Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel’s consolation
To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.
According to thy word,
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints’ stair.
Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.
(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also).
I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.
Let thy servant depart,
Having seen thy salvation